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I Blame The Italians

Many times I've pondered over the origination of the high heel. This is not only because I've broken my right foot twice wearing heels, but because a heel is counteractive to our natural foot mobility. The more though I give it, the more elusive our reasoning for heels appears to be.

After my research I found that although heels were depicted in Egyptian murals on tombs and temples, our first evidence of heels comes from 200BC when the Roman tragic actors wore high wood or cork soles in their performances. Jump to the 1500's and heels were used by European nobility to keep their boots in the stirrups while riding horses. In the courts, wearing heels became the trend for men. The term "well-heeled" referred to a person who could afford costly shoes.

Heels fell out of the scene until the first officially recorded instance in 1533 when fourteen year old Catherine De Medici married the Duke of Orleans. She wore two inch heels made in Florence supposedly designed by Leonardo De Vince. Those damn Italians! A few years later a ridiculous 24 inch high, cork and wood heeled shoe named the Chopine became all the rage by Italian and French women. Servants were needed to help the ladies down from their shoes!

During the French Revolution heels disappeared, thank god, but then slowly resurfaced soon after. In 1950s the trendy Cuban heel, at 1 1/4 inches, is swapped for the Italian 4-inch stiletto which appeared in America in 1955. The 1900s carried us from pumps to wedges to pumps again to platforms to stilettos.

Now, maybe I wont toss my swanky heels out the window but I AM allowed to vent about the absurdity that they are. ;)

Here are reasons NOT to wear heels:

* they can cause foot pain
* they can create foot deformities, including hammertoes and bunions
* they can cause an unsteady gait
* they can shorten the wearer's stride
* they can render the wearer unable to run
* altered forces at the knee caused by walking in high-heels may predispose to degenerative changes in the knee joint
* Women who wear high heels frequently have a higher incidence of degenerative joint disease of the knees. This is because they cause a decrease in the normal rotation of the foot which puts more rotation stress on the knee
* Podiatrists often comment that 75 percent of their business is caused by females wearing tall high heeled shoes.

Aesthetic reasons to wear heels:

* they change the angle of the foot with respect to the lower leg, which accentuates the appearance of calves
* they change the wearer's posture, requiring a more upright carriage and altering the gait in what is considered a seductive fashion
* they make the wearer appear taller
* they make the legs appear longer
* they make the foot appear smaller
* they make the lower leg muscles more defined while wearing tight pants
* they make the wearer look flexibly strong

Magic Conundrum

My eyes closed. Magic pushed, pulled and rattled against my cage trying to escape me, trying to control me. Sitting in this obtrusive stillness, I feel it beckon me to move, get up, scream, make noise, forget about stillness. It wants me to obey. Instead I remain still, hold steady and breathe, observing the freak show performance behind my curtain. It’s thrashing go, go, go...you don’t need this silence it says. I remain still. A void burns inside my chest, a feeling all too familiar. Fire, streaks of pain, swollen clouds, black depths, twisting roads. I’m still. I observe. I watch.

In the darkness of magic’s tantrum, I wonder, is this void like the door’s lock? Each locked door opens wide with a key. What is the key to this void? By nature a void has no balance, something is missing or on the contrast there is too much of another. Because my void is cold, dark, electrifying, and unstable images of opposites flood my mind. Warmth, ground, soil, energy, purples, reds, chocolates, and the sun. A fearless child is held close to my chest and a shadow casts her face. The warmth is overwhelming. Expansion, space, a swirling stream of blue soothes the dark void and it dissipates.

Words form in mind, to love and be loved. Love. It dawns on me, love is the most concentrated magic. To give love is to be love, a paradox most mysterious to human conception.
Be wise with magic; Ultimately I have control over my magic rather than the magic casting it’s spell over me. This means the magic will win sometimes and this is how I learn it’s paths, tricks, and power. This is how I learn to play with magic.

Name Changes & Conversation

A grandfather's voice is prevalent in the mind regardless of his presence. My grandfather is not the average grandfather nor is he the average man. His words carry generations of meaning and were born from his shenanigans in our world's nooks and crannies. He drives Land Rover 80mph through Italian craters, orders 10 cases of Chandon champagne for his home in any given country he visits, and relates mostly to the artistically intellectual... a rare breed of humanity. Speaking with him as a child required a twist of endurance and a pinch of pride. Inferiority tastes sour.

I, the granddaughter, came to know my grandfather as "Dadio". Although "Dadio" was the name he offered to his grand-kids, recently he experienced a change of heart instructing us to refer to him as George, his given name. Just between you and me, I have a list of challenging challenges and this small request of his has crept to the top. My mouth opens to call out "George" and I feel a wave of stupidity crash on me. Awkward, unfamiliar, robotic. He's my grandfather, my Dadio. Pulling his nickname after my 20 something years of my living sounds similar to the first time I tried learning Turkish.

Slowly I've gained the momentum to begin a conversation with "George." The habit of using no name began sounding odd if not already. Practice requires overcoming stupid obstacles to gain skill. ;) Tossing around one "George" in our conversations a day will eventually soothe the itch that has me squirmish. Right?

Moral of the story:
Name changes are fine and dandy. Family will find it weird. Be kind to your grandchildren! ;)

Dark Chocolate Dipped Gram Crackers

Did you know if you buy a pound of dark chocolate and a box of gormet cinnamin gram crackers to dip in the gooey stove-top-melted chocolate you get the best treat in the world...ever? Ya, I didn't know either but tonight while shopping for cowboy boots I stumbled apon a bakery which offered dark chocolate covered gram crackers and they were SOLD OUT.

Lo and behold I had to have one so a friend and I decided to re-do the scrumptious dipped cookie goodness. We had the messiest fun melting, dipping, and crunching our own makeshift treats. I have chocolate in my hair. Playing with chocolate has me giggling like a kid and I don't want to grow up. Make some... you'll laugh your pants off.

Enjoy! Yum!

Santa Barbara Film Fest

While at the International Film Fest gala last night I saw a woman dancing solo (meaning she was the only one on the dance floor) thrusting and flailing her arms with a huge smile on her face. Chances are her wild dance moves were vino inspired and she was dancing freely, unaware of all the eyes on her. The words, "What is she thinking?" slipped my lips and I stood there still... shocked by my own ass-hole-ness. What was I thinking?

I threw my jacket to my friend and my hand bag on the ground. On my way to the dance floor I promised myself never again to poo-poo on someone elses parade. I grabbed the giddy woman's hand and we flailed and swirled together laughing. A pinch of salsa, a dash of swing, a cup of fearlessness, and a big fat who cares. I'm sorry dancing lady person for making fun of you for having fun. I'm happy we had a dance together and I'm glad we didn't care who cared.

The song ended and in all her overflowing happiness she hugged me and said thanks. I looked at all the people looking, took a bow, and my buddy threw me my jacket. Maybe perfection is served in a wine glass.
Enjoy your spontaneous fearlessness.


FYI: The other woman in the photo is Angellica, not the flailing dancing lady.

Alberta Peach Old Fashion

While In Portland I bartended some amazing holiday parties and needed to brush up on my drinks. I stumbled onto the coolest montage of bartending videos ever! An awesome bartender who goes by the name Flighty instructs oh so well how to make killer drinks using oh so fresh ingredients! I had to show ya'll her Alberta Peach Old Fasion recipe which I can't wait to concoct! She's a master at muddling drinks... check her out!

A Short Love Story In Stop Motion

My freakishly talented film production friend Mike turned me onto Carlos Lascano, a sexy man and an even sexier animation expert. He created A Short Love Story In Stop Motion which was a l m o s t entered into the Academy Awards. He creates beautiful emotion with his stop motion techniques using hand made puppets and sketches. He painstakingly photographs one teeny movement at a time. The kissing scene blows my mind... you'll see. Usually I would have been snoring at Mike's attempts to seduce me with film but this 3 minute short inspired me... a lot. Check it out! Enjoy!

A SHORT LOVE STORY IN STOP MOTION from Carlos Lascano on Vimeo.

Ahhh, winter time

All I have to say is it's January 13th...

I'm not going to rub it in or anything, don't worry.

Animal Acres

I made a friend yesterday. She is a cow named Punky Doodle. I met her while volunteering at Animal Acres; 36 beautiful acres of land, 45 minutes south of Los Angeles and home to 1000 saved farm animals. I shoveled poop and lay hay for the goofy goats and curious cattle. I had been volunteering with friends and craved a few minutes of solitude so on a warm break in the barn I chilled with Punky Doodle. I sat beside her and we talked. I did most of the talking. Punky Doodle was laying on a hay bed with sun rays warming her black and white skin, chewing on grass while I scratched her neck. Her eyes alive yet calm looked into mine and for a moment I stoped breathing. Quiet. We stared. Strange... a few seconds with a cow and my life makes sense in a completely different way. Punky Doodle looked away and I continued with the pooh shoveling.

Serious sheep, dorky ducks, jealous hens, chill chickens, darling donkeys, energetic emus, and plump pigs all call Animal Acres home. Seeing Alicia Silverstone, Darrel Hannah, and Teri Hatcher volunteering at Animal Acres may be cool but the real head turner is Bagel the 800 lb pig. Bagel and I hit it off pretty well and when I scrathed his fat belly he piggy giggled, rolled on his side, and had me laughing so hard I swallowed my gum and choked. He's a hip and happening pig.

Animal Acres does SO MUCH! Most of the neglected, abused, tormented animals arrive near dead, confused, and scared. With the help of volunteers, donations and a totally fun environment, these animals have room to graze, play and discover their own personalities! Please check out Animal Acres and if interested, adopt an animal. My friend Petra met her adopted chicked that day and was exstatic about the entire experience! We live in a weird world and rarelly get the chance to hang out with animals so go look in a cows eyes and see what happens!
Enjoy!