Last night my daughter Layla and I got in the car and ventured out in search of ice cream…or frozen yogurt. First we went to Pinkberry…closed…Yogurtland…closed…Ok…we’d go to a market and get a tub of something cold and icy. Closed. What were we thinking? We weren’t thinking.
A Jewess and a half Jewess on Christmas Eve. Not remembering…this is a special night. Everything is closed.
It’s special for me too—the Jewish girl who never had Christmas growing up—in envy of so many pals who had the fantasy of Santa, who I knew, even at a very young age, sadly, wasn’t real. :(
Layla and I kept our sense of humor—went home and had milk and chocolate chip cookies.
This morning, she woke up when it was still dark—a reflex leftover from her childhood—when she’d pitter patter into the living room in awe of so many more gifts under the tree than there were the night before. Santa must have come. At least I got to give her the fantasy.
I was a novice at Christmas at first. One year, I used the same wrapping paper as Santa and Layla was suspicious about this unlikely coincidence. I learned.
When we were all out of bed I made coffee, called up some Nat King Cole and we opened our gifts slowly. One at a time. Mommy, Daddy, Layla. Mommy, Daddy, Layla. It takes weeks to plan and buy and wrap…and then they’re all opened and the paper is strewn about by the time Nat King Cole sings the last word of the last song.
I made breakfast and got dressed for a workout. The holidays wreak havoc on my metabolism. Adam reminded me that the gym is closed on Christmas. Wahhh.
So I went out into the yard with my 10 pound weights. From the deck I could see the side of the Hollywood sign, a Tuscan-esque mansion that’s actually a rehab center, The Disney building, The Griffith Park Observatory and today…way in the back of all the mountains was another mountain capped with snow.
Thankful for this eye-full.
My dear friend Brendan Okrent recently sent me Abbie Britton's list (her yoga teacher) of 50 things we should do every day. One of those things is…stretch.
I found some Gregorian Meditative Chants on Apple Music.
Stretching, while looking up toward the sun and listening to Gregorian Chants feels like religion to me. This is where I am now.
My friend Gregg Sutton is coming over later. I met him 30 years ago when we were set up on a songwriting blind date. I still love his company. His sense of humor. His wisdom. And it won’t surprise me if we break into song at some point, for no other reason than to bond in the language of music. That's one thing we've always done well together.
Hopefully, we won’t veer onto the subject of pitching material or who’s looking for hits or streaming rates. Making music for the sake of making music. Imagine that.
While I wait for Gregg I’ll take the covers off of the outdoor furniture after 3 days of well needed LA rain. Thank you rain.
I’m taking stock of a year gone by on a day I believe I was given to take stock. Maybe I didn’t do all the things I promised myself I’d do last year. But at least I try. And I feel blessed that it appears there’s still time.
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