Young little puppies on New Year's Eve 1999 in NYC

I’m currently in DC visiting my best friend A., who I’ve known since I was 14 and we were besties in Alpharetta, Georgia, but who I now only get to see once or twice a year. She had a baby girl in June, and while many of my friends and cousins have already gone down the kiddie path, A. having a baby somehow feels dramatically different to me. 

After all, this is a girl who I met when we were overgrown children ourselves; who I giggled about Brad Pitt with during our Legends of the Fall-obsessed days in the mid-90s; who I traipsed around New York City with during college; and whose maid-of-honor I was, well, honored to be when she married. 

A baby brings it full circle and reminds me how quickly the sands are snaking through the center of the hourglass. Tick, tock! No time to waste! Life is waiting!

Remarkably, A. and I hadn’t chatted in detail about my mother’s death since A. visited her in the hospital a few days before Mama Jolie died. That’s the amazing thing about a life-long friend; you can (and often, probably, will) lose touch with them over the years, coming together at times both random and momentous–a death; a wedding; a quick work trip; a baby–but when you do reunite, it’s like no time has passed.

A. asked me how long it had been since my mother died–”About six or seven months, right?”–and we were both a little stunned to realize it’s been a year and a half: my god, how time flies. Of course, I’ve been soul-searching like nobody’s business in the interim, and I’m happy to report that I feel like I’m coming to the very end of the tunnel. A few months after Mama Jolie died, somebody told me that the first year is hard, but the second year is much harder, because everybody forgets about you, stops checking up on you, and expects you to be over it. Grief this far out is seen as indulgent, excessive. I’m sorry to report that it does, indeed, persist, and that the second year is, as promised, harder. At least, it has been for me.

Chin up, buttercup, though, because this year has also been wonderful, and praise sweet baby Jesus, the writer’s block that stopped me from working on my third book vanished recently, leaving me quivering with a desire to get it all out on paper! (I also have an exciting personal announcement around the corner, so stay tuned for that one.) Now we just need a hot little studmuffin to keep Jolie warm at night, and we’ll be all set…

But enough about that! I’m so grateful to have a friend like A. in my life; grateful, in fact, that I have several kick-ass women like her I’m blessed to call life-long gal pals. I should let them know more often how much they mean to me–after all, I learned with my mom that you can’t take the people around you for granted, because we sadly won’t be together forever.

Tell your people you love them! (Better yet, show them–actions, words, loudness demonstrated, you know the drill.)

Jordan takes a webcam photo of the two of us

Considering that the last 2 months have taken me to New York, Dallas, Acapulco, Santa Barbara (twice), Chicago, London and now Cancun, you’d be forgiven for thinking I have no problem with unplugging, relaxing, and letting the good times roll.

I’ve come to realize, however, that it doesn’t matter how easy-breezy-beautiful-Cover Girl I try to be; there are certain things I can’t help but get all control-freaky about, and constant, uninterrupted, 24/7 internet access is one of them.  This trip to the Park Royal Grand Cancun Caribe has been an embarrassment of riches and fun, but it’s also been a struggle to turn off the worry! worry! button and stop thinking about all the work I could be doing instead of having fun, taking cocktail classes, and swimming with dolphins.

A few months ago, I read The 4 Hour Workweek, and was especially inspired by The Gospel of Batching: you’ll save oodles of time by avoiding multi-tasking, instead grouping like-minded activities (blogging; responding to emails; making phone calls; opening all the mail from that week, etc) together.  It really works!  You will have so much more free time with which to obsess about all the other things you’re not doing!

Then, just last week (after seeing Knight and Day at the Grove with D.–the movie was surprisingly cute!), I bought The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, which I’ve been wanting to read for 2 years.  My mother bought me Tolle’s book A New Earth before she died, and it’s probably the single possession I treasure most in this world because  she inscribed it for me–when I open it, I see her handwriting and read her loving words of inspiration and kindness.

The take-away message from all these books is: live in the now…but, for God’s sake, live!  No, it’s not practical to expect a cotton-candy, fairy-tale existence consisting solely of vacations and dolphins, but it’s also not healthy to worry like a Jewish grandmother–fretting about this danger, and that failed task, and that missed opportunity, and this terrible outcome, and that off-kilter person at work who makes your tummy hurt.  (It’s equally unhealthy to be in paradise, and find your mind straying to your woefully-disconnected Blackberry every 20 seconds.)

Wherever you are, whatever your life condition is, will you promise me this?  Carve out some space for yourself this 4th of July weekend…let’s say just 15 minutes.  Take 15 minutes, and put away your phone, turn off the TV, disconnect the iPod,  and just be.  Enjoy.  Appreciate all that you have.  Ignore what you don’t.

Walk away from your worries for a few minutes.  They’ll still be there when you get back.

An old friend of mine just lost her uncle, and posted the following on Facebook.  I thought it was so beautiful and such an important message that I asked her permission to share it:

After singing at my uncle’s funeral today, some things were really put into perspective. I was reminded that what people remember about us when we die is not how much money we made, what kind of car we drive, or what a great career we had. What people remember is how we loved them. My uncle was a very wealthy and successful man, but no one spoke about his “accomplishments” today. They spoke about his character, and the impact he had on them personally.

My uncle, who found out that he was dying three years ago of ALS, did not regret leaving the corporate world behind, or even his house in Italy. Instead, he bemoaned the fact that he wouldn’t live to see his youngest son get married or watch his grand kids grow up. As his body literally shut down right before his eyes, he hated that he could no longer swoop his grandchildren up into his arms for a hug when they came to the door. As he saw his life coming to an end, he didn’t want more weekends at the office or money to spend on “toys.” He wished that he had been a better husband, more involved father, and more devoted friend.

It’s all about relationships. As tall of an order it is to fill, when I die, I hope to leave behind family and friends who felt loved. Hug so tight you can hardly breathe loved.

I’m leaving for Big Bear for the weekend, where I’m going skiing, hot-tubbing and vino-ing with a group of friends, so I’m signing off now until 2010.  Last night, I sat down and took stock of 2009 in my now yearly tradition, reflecting on the good, the bad, the triumphs and the sadness (on the whole, surprisingly, a very good year!), and just now a friend, the wonderful Sarah Klein of Sarah Klein Coaching, sent me the following.  I liked it so much that I wanted to share myself.  Here’s to a very successful, happy, fulfilling and loving 2010 for all of you!  I love you guys!  xo

“It’s not about the pose, it’s about your reaction to the pose.” Over and over I’ve heard this in yoga class the last few weeks. When my standing leg turns to jelly, when I quit while the rest of the class keeps going, or when my arm strength isn’t there and I plop rather than float to the floor, my wonderful, funny yoga teacher, Natalie, softly reminds me, “it’s not about the pose, it’s about your reaction to the pose.” When I lose my balance and topple sideways, Natalie cheerfully calls across the room, ”nice dismount, Terry!” Encouraged, I grin and quickly return to the pose. With her good humor and gentle guidance, I can focus on my present efforts, rather than gnash and thrash about what I didn’t do, how impossibly hard the pose is, or how I’ll never get it right.

If my arms are weak and I don’t pop up into full wheel effortlessly, or at all, it’s fine. My inability to hold chaturanga becomes almost as interesting as my graceful execution of a fully extended dancer’s pose. In that accepting, light-hearted environment, I can stay calm and strong, moving forward with less and less effort, steadily improving even as I topple, wobble, and flop.

Slowly and surely, I progress physically. Little by little, my balance and stamina improves, my legs lift higher, my headstands last longer and become more stable. But the most empowering aspect of this very challenging class is the transformation of my attitude, from one of competition and judgment to a powerful attitude of acceptance. It’s not about the pose.

This same concept will serve us well throughout the rest of the holidays and into the New Year. It’s not about what happens, it’s about our reaction to what happens.

When, despite your very best efforts, life’s challenges still arise (as they always will), what will your reaction be? When the weather changes and your eagerly anticipated plans have to change with it, when loved ones let your down, when life just doesn’t cooperate with you, how will you react? Will you gnash and thrash and struggle? Will you mutter under your breath that it’s too hard, not fair? Will you regretfully scold yourself, tell yourself you should have done better or you should have handled it differently? Will you give up?

Or can you smile, tell yourself “nice dismount,” and jump back in, renewing your efforts? Can you remember what you did well, how you showed up and reached out, how well you communicated, how you stayed calm under fire, took a risk, stayed in your truth, took responsibility, and aligned with your values?

And just as important, will you forgive yourself for the times you didn’t? When you fell out of the pose or didn’t do your best, when you didn’t reach out when you could have, when you were thoughtless and didn’t say the right thing, can you move forward without judgment? Can you let it go, and simply acknowledge that it’s not about what happened? Can you remember it’s always about how you respond this time, right now?

During this time of transition to the New Year, and new beginnings, let’s remind ourselves, over and over, it’s not about the pose. Over and over, we will have the opportunity to answer these questions: How do you want to react? How will you choose to respond?

By remembering this simple truth–It’s not about the pose, it’s about our reaction to the pose–we can stay peacefully empowered, eager to jump back in, ready for the next challenge, and fascinated by the wonder of it all.

Thanks for being here this past year, and have a wonderful, fun, and prosperous New Year!

Speakeasy bars have been taking over Los Angeles (after re-originating in New York), and I couldn’t be happier.  There’s something so fabulous about sealing yourself off in a wood-paneled hideaway while savoring hair-raisingly stiff concoctions.  Twirl those pearls, pucker your glossy lips and flip that bob, baby, because you’ve been transported to another world–one where the dames are fierce and the men are as likely to kiss you as kill you.  Life may have its daily struggles, the economy might be crashing and war raging seemingly endlessly (ah, historical parallels), but at least you’re tippling the meanest sloe gin fizz this side of Chicago…

Old glamour goes hand-in-hand with the enjoyment of Prohibition-era cocktails: sure, you can wander in looking like a college sophomore, but where’s the sophistication or enjoyment in that? Make like 1929, spend a little quality time with the curling iron, paint Vamp on your nails, and darken your pout with MAC lipstick in Dubonnet.  We’re going drinking, darlings.

Roger Room (370 N. La Cienega Blvd.):  Hands down my favorite bar in Los Angeles.  Roger Room is what nightlife should be all about: delicious drinks, sexy ambiance, gracious doormen, and an intimate, playful atmosphere.   (Circus murals adorn the walls, and it’s “Roger” as in “yes.”)  The fact that I’m here 3 times a week either means I’m a complete alcoholic or this has simply become my living room.  I choose to go with the latter!  Check out the Old Sport (a frothy gin and cucumber delight) or the Thug (whiskey with honey liquor and habanero bitters), but do come early.  While there’s zero pretention here, it fills up quickly.

Bar Marmont (8221 W. Sunset Blvd.): A native Angeleno escorted me into Bar Marmont my first weekend in Hollywood, and I instantly fell in love.  Like Roger Room, it’s chic and seductive, with low-lighting, endless expanses of wood, old fashioned red decorations that always remind me of Moulin Rouge, and a ceiling absolutely covered in butterflies.  Carolyn Spence, formerly of the Spotted Pig, ensures the menu is no joke, drinks both innovative and classic are on offer (I always get the French Martini, except for when a VeeV and Ginger is calling my name), and on more than one occasion, I’ve been impressed by the eclectic DJ mix.  Want to spot Jason Segal, Christina Aguilera, Rosario Dawson, or an endless parade of CW-starlets and British pop icons?  Enjoy.  It hasn’t been an official “hot spot” for years, and yet you still can’t take a sip without tripping over an incognito celebrity on the DL.  Here, I once hung with the members of Take That, which is highly exciting–but only to those who were English teenagers during the 90’s.

The Hall at Palihouse (8465 Holloway Dr.): This is where Kristen Stewart and Rob Pattinson briefly holed up last year while trying to escape the paparazzi.  It’s exceedingly popular with Brits, especially on Sundays for the British Brunch, features a trippy mad-chic decor that resembles your eccentric uncle’s study, and specializes in straighforward (but strong!) champagne cocktails, as well as a vodka, lime and cucumber drink called the Writer’s Block.  Upstairs is a to-die-for SW3-inspired hotel/residence popular with actors and glamour-types, and the food–French brasserie cuisine–is damn good, too. Even better: this place still seems to be (mostly) a secret.

The Varnish (118 E. 6th St.):  Okay, even people who know about The Varnish still can’t figure out where to find it!  Here’s the trick: enter Cole’s restaurant, ignore the diversionary Cole’s bar, walk to the back, and find the random door past the bathrooms that appears to lead nowhere.  Voila!  Inside, you’ll find a tiny gem of a space, only a couple of bartenders, and drinkers who mean serious business.  The menu itself features very few items, so your best bet is to clear your schedule for a few hours on a weeknight (this place is simply too small to sustain a weekend crowd), ask for a Bartender’s Choice, wait for them to painstakingly whip up something so beautiful and divine that you feel guilty drinking it…and then enjoy.

Jolie has a little flower-child hippie inside of her, as you might know, and she delights in readings and teachings that expand her consciousness, challenge her beliefs and just plain ol’ blow her mind.  (And apparently, she also loves talking about herself in the third person.)  The past couple of years have been up and down for me: I’ve been blessed by more once-in-a-lifetime experiences than anybody could realistically dream of, and have been humbled by crushing defeats, personal setbacks and emotional losses.  It’s been wild and big and messy, but I feel lucky on the whole. Much of my stability comes from lessons that I’ve been taught over the past year by my coach Sarah Klein, who I went to college with and who studied under Martha Beck (the Oprah guru).   What exactly is coaching, and how does it differ from therapy?  In Sarah’s words:

“Therapy’s focus begins in your life today and moves backwards through time to heal, understand and “have closure” on troubling events, attitudes or behaviors in the past. Coaching begins with your life today and moves forward, claiming the strengths, gifts, and insight you already possess. Coaching helps you learn about your own power and how to unleash your own potential. Therapy is about healing the past; coaching is about dealing with what is holding you back or causing you pain now and then moving forward into the great life you deserve.”

Sarah’s wonderful website is now up, and I cannot gush enough about how loving and supportive she is, and how grateful I am to benefit from her warm, witty and helpful advice.   Most people around the world increasingly seem to be more open to concepts of ego, the Universe, the Law of Positive Attraction and spiritual cleansing–but it’s the kind of thing that sounds feeble-minded, ridiculous and idiotic…until you experience the transformation that can occur when you open up, stop resisting, learn and really see. Long before my mother died, I was putting lessons into place that Sarah and I worked on, and after losing Mama Jolie, I’ve found tremendous personal strength that I didn’t even know I had, in large part due to teachings Sarah introduced me to.  If you’re a fellow seeker, or plagued by the nagging feeling that your life is out of focus, or sick of having good intentions that result in bad relationships and bad choices, take charge!  Each day is a chance for a fresh start, and I’m a firm believer that the life you expect is the life you get.  Sometimes, all is takes is a little push in the right direction (and maybe somebody gifting you a cute broom!) to clear the cobwebs out.