The rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun

One of the few good things that came out of 2009 (my God, are you as tired of my whining as I am?) was that one of my very best friends from college and NYC caught the west coast bug and moved to San Diego. Cara and her boyfriend moved in October, spent a few months in temporary housing, and at the first of the year, signed a lease for an ocean-front apartment in Mission Beach.

And when I say ocean-front, it's actually more like ocean-back, because this is their backyard:

That white stuff isn't snow, as I originally thought, but foam, brought up to the sea wall from the rain storm that roared through Southern California earlier that week. Because it happens so infrequently here, rain is considered a novelty, and - in LA, at least - it's a welcome relief as it clears out the smog and cleanses the city.

This trip was, in a sense, cleansing for me. First, I had never been to Mission Beach, never knew a place like that existed. It's basically a vacation town, where people actually live and work, though I can't imagine anyone gets much work done, what with the beach and so many bars and neighbors within distraction distance. It reminded me of my summers spent on the Jersey Shore - which weren't that different from that Jersey Shore - in that the whole town just seemed like one party after another. Good-looking people walking, rollerblading, running on the beach; neighbors drinking wine and beer on their porches, inviting us in; bar after bar after bar after bar; after-hours in abundance. And, my goodness, the boys. How have I never heard the term Man Diego? Good-looking, all-American-looking, single-looking guys, all around my age, seemingly around every corner. I was completely floored. I'd seriously given up on the idea that they even existed.

Beyond anything that Mission Beach offered, I just had more fun with my friend than I have had in a long, long time. We laughed for two days straight. My sides hurt, my cheeks hurt, and it was the best I've felt in forever.

I'm so extremely thankful they have a guest room.

Friends, friends, friends, we won't always be

We haven't had a good laugh around these parts in a while, so let's talk about my dating life.

The joke, of course, being that if I went on any fewer dates, said life would surpass the "endangered" list and ultimately be declared extinct.

I've been on Match for a while but participating half-heartedly, finding very little interest in very few people. This may have less to do with their profiles than my mind-frame, but I guess I feel like I should be doing something to keep myself out there, even if it's only keeping an active profile for hundreds of people to judge.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from someone who struck me as somewhat familiar. I opened his profile, and it turns out, we went to summer camp together back in the early 90's. I wrote back, sharing immediately that I recognized and remembered him, and then was humbled when he replied that he had no idea who I was. Awesome. My ego is fine, thank you. With little prodding, he finally remembered me, we caught up over a series of emails and texts, and met up shortly thereafter.

And I had a nice time. He was nice. Not particularly my type - he seemed a bit quieter and shyer than the guys I go for, but it was fun catching up and we had some interesting things in common. That said, I knew right off the bat I wasn't interested in dating him. I just wasn't attracted. Our whole date seemed more like it had a friendly vibe, though, so I wasn't that worried about having to tell him that, or tell him anything, and I hoped we could transition things into a rekindled friendship. Even if that friendship was based only on our newfound proximity and one summer 20 years ago that he clearly didn't remember.

I don't ask a lot from my friends.

He texted me every day that week, much more than any of my actual friends. While he didn't outright ask me out again, I could tell he was fishing to determine my interest. I kept it friendly, but brief, and hoped he'd get the hint. I guess he's not much one for subtlety, though, because the following week, I got this:

So, let me put it out there... did you want to get together originally just to catch up or do you think there is something more there potentially?

Yikes. Wasn't expecting that kind of text in the middle of my work day. Wasn't expecting to have this conversation over text at all, but I guess if it is his communication of choice... I wrote back:

Just to catch up but I had fun and think we should be friends, stay in touch. I like connecting with people from the past b/c we naturally share something in common, and that is rare out here.

Honest. I probably could have worded it better but it distracted me so much at work I just wanted to write back and get it over with. I debated glossing it over and saying that I was open to seeing where things could go, but really, I wasn't. And if I've learned anything from my two decades of dating it's that it's always easier on everyone to end things sooner rather than later.

He apparently appreciated honesty too, considering his quick reply:

That's cool... I have enough friends... lol

Wow, ego-bruiser! Tell me how you really feel.

I admit, I've thought, and said that phrase in jest about similar situations. Say, I was telling a girlfriend how a guy might have said that to me, and I'd be all - to my girlfriend - "like I need any more friends!" Ha! But I would never, NEVER say that to a guy! I'd be like "Sure", and then never answer the phone again, maybe, but I wouldn't be all bitter like that - to their face!

(I try to reserve my bitter for the privacy of home. Trust me, everyone is happier that way.)

In fact, I remember the time I broke up with this guy. He wouldn't let me off the phone until I at least agreed to be friends. So I did, thinking it would mean nothing, maybe he would call once in a while if he was in the neighborhood, or we'd add each other to our birthday party guest lists, but that's it. After all, why would he want to be friends with someone who made it very clear she did not want to date him? Right?

Wrong! He thought my agreeing to be friends with him meant that we could forgo the dating part of the relationship and just have sex on occasion. He called me every week for a month before I finally told him to get lost, and he told me the real reason he kept calling.

I met him on Match too, now that I think of it.

Anyway, I wouldn't have even included the friendship remark if we hadn't actually, at one point, been friends. I totally get that it's a shitty thing to hear, and I really don't have any interest in being friends with most of the random guys I date. But I don't consider him random. I thought it was really cool that we reconnected across the country, and I was sincerely hoping to make him part of my social circle. Don't get me wrong - it's not like I'd be calling him up for weekend lunches or to gossip about my day. He'd be like every other guy friend I have that sits idle in my phone book, that I banter with on Facebook, and maybe see three times a year. So what's the big deal, then, you ask? If that's all I wanted, aside from avoiding any hurt feelings and snide textual remarks?

Well, the big deal is that it is rare to meet people from my past out here. And unlike high school and college, I didn't stay in touch with my camp friends after I stopped going at 17. Facebook has reconnected me with some, but I haven't seen most of them in real life in fifteen years. Having one pop out of the woodwork like that was a refreshing and comforting reminder of the pre-teen camper I used to be. Bottom line: there there are only a handful of people in the world that shared the exact same experience I did, that carry around the very same memories I have. It was nice thinking I'd reconnected with one of them.

Then again, it's not like he had that great of a memory.

Done good

A big thanks to everyone who commented on this post and helped raise $100 for the Red Cross to provide assistance to victims of the Haiti earthquake. Here is a copy of the receipt, as best as I could cut and paste from my basic PC software:

This is the best thing to come out of an overpriced car estimate, yet. I hope you all had a fantastic weekend, and thanks again!

How I unlocked my radio security code and saved ANOTHER $135 by avoiding the dealer

I mentioned yesterday that, because the car guy had disconnected my battery in order to change my timing belt, I had been inadvertently left without a working car stereo. Apparently anytime the battery dies or gets disconnected, my radio goes into protection mode and requires a special anti-theft code in order to turn itself back on. The car guy didn't know the code or how to get it, and the Santa Monica Acura dealership was going to charge $135 to tell me. I believe that might be what some people refer to as "extortion."

Dreading another day of a tinny Pandora-via-iPhone soundtrack, I sat down to consult the all-knowing Father Google. And lo and behold, what did I find within one minute and the first five links of my search? Well, first I found a couple of links which mentioned that if the dealer sold you the car, they are required by law to give you the code for free. I did buy my car there, but even if I hadn't, Honda (which makes Acura) actually set up a consumer website for this exact purpose. Following that website, I was able to follow the simple directions and within minutes, had a working car stereo. All for the price of... wait for it... zero dollars!

Seems the only thieves I should be worrying about work at the dealer.

Drive me crazy

I wanted to give a quick update on my car situation, but first, thank you to everyone who has commented on the post below. If you haven't yet, please do! It's for a good cause!

So, Thursday morning, I woke up early so I could drop the rental off at Enterprise and pick my car up at the dealer. Everything worked out smoothly, and I was at-work at 9 AM problem-free. Well, almost. Apparently, when they worked on my car they had to shut down? take out? insert car lingo I don't know? my battery, which prompted my car stereo to invoke its security protection and turn itself off, for good, until I can enter the security code. The car guy told me it might be in my manual (it wasn't) or that I should call the dealership, who should have it. So I drove away in literal radio silence, and called the dealer once I was back at the office. The dealer apparently doesn't have it, but if I bring it in, they will charge me $135 to re-set it. Click. I called my new auto-body shop to ask about it, though so far have not heard back. I've been listening to Pandora on my iPhone, which is a God-send, but seriously people, this kind of sucks.

What also sucks was that Thursday evening, as I was driving to meet a friend for dinner, I got rear-ended on the 101. Rear ended! The same day I pick my car up from the shop! So awesome! (Though I am grateful it was only that and I didn't, like, total my car the day after I put multiple hundreds of dollars into it.) We pulled over to the side of the road, and in the dark I could barely even see the damage. (And yes, I did take photos). In today's light, I can see paint scrapes from her car, but there are no dents or any real damage to it. And she was a lovely older woman who was very apologetic about it and I'm really thinking it's not even worth going through insurance and maybe not even worth getting fixed.

This is the third time I've been rear-ended. Note, I have never done it to anyone - I am always the recipient - so I am pretty sure that it's not my driving. The first time was the worst - notable damage to the bumper and the under-carriage, and I went through insurance and had it fixed. Literally weeks after I got it fixed, I got rear-ended again, and that time, the damage just didn't seem worth going through that hassle. I've been driving around with scrapes on my bumper for four years now, so the new ones from last night aren't really putting me out. I'm more put out at the idea of taking my car back to the shop - even the really good shop - and raising this woman's insurance for scrapes I'm just not that bothered about. Is that naive of me? Girly? Lazy?

Any advice is appreciated.

Do-goodery

I have so many things I've been meaning to write about, but, I don't know - I've been so tired, or so busy, or there is such good TV on again...

I'll save some of those stories (reminders: Santa Monica, camp, nails, Jay Leno) for another time, so I can focus in on a few that fall under one common umbrella - giving, generosity, and the kindness of the human spirit.

To start, my car recently surpassed the 100,000 mile mark, and Acura has been telling me - since about 75K - that I need a new timing belt. The price they quoted me was a lot - about $1300 for the belt and $900 for the cooling hoses that go along with it. Hello! Who ever advised me that owning a car made good financial sense? I am totally leasing next time.

Anyway, I decided I wasn't going to take it to Acura, at least not before getting a quote from somewhere else. The problem was - I didn't really know anywhere else. Most of my friends here lease, and the ones that own cars seem to have daddies that take care of these problems. Finally, I got a recommendation from a friend at work who is the most meticulous, Type A researcher you could want recommending these things, and was backed up by another coworker who got work done at the same place. They both told me the guy was uncommonly nice, trustworthy, and basically a diamond in a coal mine. So I called for the estimate on Monday, and you know what it was? $600 for the timing belt and $200 for the coolants. SOLD.

His auto shop was by my office, so I could drop it off in the morning, and he assured me it would be done by 5:30 at night. Ideal. This week has been crazy for me, with something either every morning before work or evening after, but I decided to drop it off today when he assured me it would be finished, and if there was a problem, he would know by 10 or 11 AM and call me so I could make any alternate transportation arrangements. I made a very big point of making sure of this, because I had something at 7PM tonight in downtown LA that I really couldn't miss.

I was getting ready to leave the office at 5:30 when he called to say it would be at least another hour until the car was ready. That was unacceptable, and I told him so. Not only did I have this meeting at 7:00, but I had asked a friend at work to drive me back to the auto shop, and I wasn't going to ask her to wait around for another hour. New York Lori made a bit of an appearance. I wasn't mean, I wasn't irrational, but I reminded him of our conversation and I told him in no uncertain terms that this was not acceptable.

He recognized his mistake for not calling me sooner, apologized profusely, and offered to book me a rental car for the night, at his expense.

And then I felt like a royal asshole.

But seriously? That is good service.

Enterprise picked me up, and I was on the road myself by 6:20. The "meeting" I had downtown was actually an orientation for some volunteer work I plan to do this season through a company called Taproot, which basically pairs professional people like myself with non-profit organizations to provide pro-bono work in the area of our expertise.

My expertise, in this situation, is as a copywriter. I was accepted to the program in December, but had to attend an orientation to be matched with a project. Basically, if I missed tonight's orientation, I would have to wait until March, which I feel would be a big waste of two months in which I have a lot of free time. And yes, I had to be accepted. Apparently they only accept 10% of applicants so it is a fairly big deal to be part of the program. There was a ton of talent in the room tonight, and for the first time in a while, I actually felt quite young. The majority of the people there had 20-30 years of experience. I won't know for a few days or even weeks what kind of project I'll get put on - they approach me based on my skills and I can accept or decline - but I hope it's something that excites me and I can find some passion for.

So, all of this do-gooding brings us to the situation in Haiti, which no one needs me to opine about. Instead, I suggest this: for every comment left on this post between now and 11:59 PM on Sunday night (1/17), I'll donate $5 to the Red Cross. (Don't worry - I don't have a lot of readers!) (Though just in case, let's say that I'll donate $5 for each comment up to $100/20 comments, and $1 per comment after that.) Here's my only request: Please no anonymous comments. You don't have to go whole hog with a Blogger account if it's too much trouble, but leave your name (or any name) along with some line about how you know me, or how you found me. Feel free to repost or reTweet or do whatever you can to raise the amount. I'll post the final donation receipt on Monday.

Think of it this way: I just saved $1400 fine-tuning my car. I can pay at least a fraction of that forward.

And this is why I live here

Trouble ahead, trouble behind

So, it seems like the Tragic Celebrity Death Circus of 2009 is intent on continuing its show through 2010.

One of the most common themes in the media coverage of heiress Casey Johnson's death was the coverage itself, why there was so much of it when she was barely a celebrity, famous for nothing but her last name and sharing a yearbook with Paris Hilton.

I actually met Casey back somewhere in 2001 or 2002, when she worked as a beauty editor for a local magazine. She had always been on our media lists, invited to every event and copied on every press mailing, but was somewhat of an enigma and never showed any interest. I guess she covered more of the local beauty beat than the national launch news, and maybe she didn't need a sponsored lunch at Fred's to get content for her monthly column.

Then one day, she actually responded to one of my pitches. I was working with a skin care client launching a new line, and we invited editors in for one-on-one appointments. To my surprise, Casey was interested, and we spent an hour together, just me, her, and my crazy client. She was definitely different than the other beauty editors - clearly an LA socialite versus a NY-driven journalist - but she was nothing but sweet and professional and I think even ended up writing about the line.

I'm not saying she didn't have any troubles back then - she was cosmetically plumped and primped beyond any 20-something I had ever seen - but she wasn't the kooky character we'd all come to question on the pages of Page Six and the TMZ screen.

Anyway, that's my good memory of her and what I'll remember. Hardly a band-aid for something much deeper.

Good things cooking

I know very little has changed except the number, but in the first three days of 2010, I already feel lighter, happier, just all around better than I did for the last nine or so months of 2009. The last few days I've just been bumbling around my apartment, unusually happy, optimistic - a feeling I barely recognized after the last year. Before going to bed last night, I found myself and giddy and full of gratitude - for no reason other than I feel like something significant has shifted. Even if it is only a page on the calendar.

My New Year's started early on Thursday, around 10:30 AM to be exact, when the six of us at the office popped open the first bottle of champagne. That led to a bottle of wine, which led to another bottle of champagne, which led to about an hour and a half of sobering up before I went to the gym. Hey - had to leave room for later. That night, my friend Lauren had a party, and since I had started earlier - and was driving - I had exactly two drinks and left at 12:15. It was a fun night - I just wanted to leave before having too much fun.

Friday morning I woke up at 7:30, watched three hours of BH90210 on Soap Net, then started to wonder what to do with the rest of my day. As I was cleaning the apartment, I got struck with an odd urge to cook, and so invited my friend Kim over for a Mexican fiesta. Keep in mind that I never cook, never have any desire to cook, and yet I could not think of anything I wanted to do more that day. So I went shopping for ingredients, and whipped up these yummy low fat chicken soft tacos that were actually more like chicken fajitas, and which required me to actually handle the raw chicken breasts, which for some reason, I actually did not mind. Um, hello? Who AM I? Certainly not this girl who had an emotional meltdown over buying the wrong breasts and actually having to touch them. Maybe 2010 Lori is turning over a new leaf.

Well, that might be optimistic, but I can't help but be reminded of how I'd always held kind of a disdain for yoga, until the one day I just woke up with the urge to do it. Is cooking the new yoga? Probably not, but if I see yummy tattooed Top Chef Michael Voltaggio one more time, I might have to start paying attention.

Because, yes, I saw him at the beach today, where it was 80 degrees and I went rollerblading with Miya to celebrate the weather. He was with his wife, and I'm surprised I even recognized him out of the element, but, like I said, maybe I just need to start paying attention. After rollerblading, Miya and I went to a beachside bar to grab a drink as the sun set, and ran into another friend. And that's a good way to sum up how this whole weekend has felt - random, fun, full of energy and good things on the horizon.

Thanks for continuing to join me on this journey, and happy 2010!