Dad. Pop. Old man. Whatever your favorite nickname for your father is, this weekend is the time to call him and thank him for all the things that he did for you.
As the sun set on a beautiful Saturday evening, about 75 people milled about the courtyard of the Santa Monica Main Library commenting on a trio of electric cars on display.
I’m in a movie. I can’t believe it. If this is what movie stars go through, I have a newfound sympathy for them. Seeing myself on a screen and knowing that those words were going to be permanently there, those images not subject to improvement, those verbal mistakes forever recorded, it’s nerve wrac
The surrealistic movie “Brazil” has a scene where the main character, Sam Lowry, is looking for a piece of information. He is sent to an office and when he asks his question, the condescending and slightly exasperated government official looks at him and states, “Oh, you want Information RETRIEVAL,
It’s hard to believe, but the reality of life is that we have yet another election coming up. Next week the state will vote on several ballot measures confronting the perpetual problem of our state’s budget.
I get accused of hating women — a lot. I understand it. I take a hard line with women. I expect them to be honest and fair and upright and most importantly, forthright.
I was walking my dog in Virginia Avenue Park last week, when I struck up a conversation with one of the city workers. He’s a young man who was so happy and proud that he just landed a full-time position with the parks and recreation department.
Two self-effacing and humorous journalists, a sold out Broad Stage, one major industry on the verge of collapse and two ex-Mormon boys makes for an entertaining evening for me.
I’m a smoker. Well, I used to be. I grew up in a household where my father and brother each smoked three packs a day of cigarettes. I grew up hating the smell, the dirt from the ashes, and the fact that my clothes smelled.
In August of last year I wrote about my belief that parents should be forced to take an equal division of time in their children’s care. I don’t think it’s fair or equitable that the lion’s share of child rearing falls to the mother.
Irony. I just love it as a tool to emphasize a point. It has many definitions, one of which is, “incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs.
The lavender, spotted flowers of my orchid are dying and falling from their stalk. They lie around the base of the pot they were raised in, looking tired and spent.
