requests

I case you were wondering about just such a thing—THIS is a Magic Wand farm.

As you know I supply my little slice of Studio City with magic wands. In the beginning, they looked like this:

The sign on the bucket was more creative than the wands themselves—but that’s beside the point.

Then, my sister “out wanded” me with her usual flair and because they were scooped up in less than a day by the hungry masses yearning for wands—I was forced to up my game.

But the wand phenomenon like I suppose all good things do has developed a life of its own. It has its “people” who talk to my “people” (me) voicing their thanks (mostly), opinions (often), and now…requests. This week a group of stroller moms as I call them were rifling through the bucket looking for just the perfect wands for their kids when they caught sight of me getting into my car.

“Oh, hey, are you the Magic Wand lady?” they asked.

“Yes, I am” I answered proudly waiting for the usual parental gushing. Instead, this is what happened:

Mom #1 – “Listen, we love the wands, we really do, but…”
Mom #2 – “The little ones chew on them so could you put more without any paint in the bucket?”
Mom #3 – “Unless you use pesticide, Do you, I mean, use pesticides?”

“Uh, no. No, I don’t” I stammered. I was caught completely off-guard.

Mom #1 – “Are you sure? Have you specifically asked your gardeners not to use any pesticides or even worse… Round Up?”
Mom #3 – “Oh, look, Barbara, she has dandelions everywhere, they don’t use Round up.”
Mom #2 – “You don’t look sure. Are you sure?”

They all looked at me waiting for an answer.  After a minute of biting my tongue I said, “No, I mean, yes, yes, I’m sure. In four years no kids have died from holding or chewing on these Magic Wands. I swear!” 

Mom #1 – “What I really wanted to ask you was, do you make them in any other colors besides purple and gold?”
Mom #2 – “She did. You did, you had blue ones once.”
Mom #3 – “The reason we’re asking is that our sons, well…”
Mom #1 – “Our sons are all nine and ten this summer, they’re getting to be big boys and well, they want a wand…”
Mom #2 – “Just not a pink one.”
Mom #3 – “They’re not really pink, they’re more purple…”
Mom #2 – “Magenta. They’re magenta!”
Mom #1 – “Anyway, they’re too old for pink…”
Mom #3 – “And sparkles. Do you make any wands without the sparkles?”

“The boys hate the sparkles too?” I asked, crestfallen.

Mom #1 – “Not really, it’s just that the sparkles get all over the carpet and…”
Mom #3 – “I’ve found sparkles all over Jimiraquois’ bed!”

They laughed and nodded in unison while the toddlers in the strollers happily chewed on my Magic Wands.

I was clearly outnumbered.

“Do you have a color in mind? Something that both girls and boys would like?” I HAD to ask knowing full well that they did.

All three moms in unison – “Red. Red works.”

So, in closing, you can’t fight progress. Kids get older. And boys don’t like pink. And requests. Some people are very comfortable with big asks, not that this was a particularly big ask, but still, I couldn’t have done it. But maybe that’s just me.

What do you think?

Speaking of moms and their big asks…

Now I don’t feel so bad.

Carry on,
xox

Here it is, my first Huffington Post of 2016!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/janet-bertolus/its-a-new-yearbe-audaciou_b_8905344.html

This is a re-worked essay from back when Moses was a kid (some of you old farts may remember it because you lived it with me), that talks about that moment when I finally realized, with every fiber of my being, that I couldn’t stand to be “left” by a man one-more-time.

So, I searched and searched for what I wanted to feel.

Loved? They all said they loved me but love wears a different hat with each guy so…I was thinkin’ no, not loved, apparently love wasn’t enough for them to stay.

How about respected? Oh sure, I wanted to feel respected by a man and I’m not saying I wasn’t. It’s just that respect doesn’t give you ooglies (that indescribably warm feeling that starts in your kishkes and eventually makes its way to your lady parts). I know it should—but it doesn’t and if it does for you—then you’re a better woman than I.

There was something else. Some key ingredient that was missing.

Finally, after an exhaustive search of my emotional inventory I found the word for how I wanted to feel but that word embarrassed me. It had alluded me because it felt like too much.
It felt audacious and a little dangerous to ask for it—but at that point what did I have to lose?

I wanted to be adored by a man. I wanted him to look at me the way I look at the waiter when he sets down a warm, gooey dessert in front of me with only ONE spoon.

With pure, unadulterated adoration.

And it worked!

It’s a New Year you guys! I say Go for it. Make this your most audacious year EVER!
xox

I was reminded this weekend of a Petition to God that Liz Gilbert wrote as part of her memoir Eat Pray Love.

Her intention was to ask God to intervene in the suffering and dysfunction of her contentious divorce. She finished by signing it and sending it out into the ethers to collect the signatures of other interested parties, living or dead.

She figured that if you can stop the energetic animosity—it serves the world.

That got me to thinking.
I was hanging with a bunch of soulful, heart-filled creatives yesterday, with intriguingly varied projects and books in the works, but they’re no different from all of you guys with your projects and creations, dreams, hopes and wishes. Everybody’s got something in the works.

So I tweaked (okay I totally changed it, but kept the intention) Liz’s Petition To God.

This can apply to any situation you want to hand over to a higher power than yourself.

After you read it, if it feels right to you, “sign it” with your heart. (You can also sign it by putting just your name in the comments) and invite other parties to sign it as well.
They can be people attached to your project, people you know personally, people you’ve never met, people you admire…or in my case Robert Downey Jr. — it doesn’t matter, whoever comes to mind (you’ll, be surprised at who shows up).

Like Liz says in EPL:
“and I became filled with a grand sense of protection, surrounded by the collective goodwill of so many mighty souls.”
Hey, who doesn’t need that?

This is The Petition To Our Muses:

Dearest Muse,
Please intervene and help this project in any way you see fit, and even some ways that would shock and surprise me.
I have done my part. I have shown up, been receptive, chosen your words carefully, sat in the seat and done the work. Now it is your turn.

I recognize that you may be busy with other things like keeping the earth spinning in its orbit around the sun, editing the final drafts of Pulitzer Prize winners, and other various mundane tasks; but it is my understanding that you are focused on each and every one of us and our projects at all times (because times doesn’t matter where you are) and that you can multitask like a mo-fo.

It is also my understanding that when you gift someone with an inspiration, an idea; and that person, with your help, is able to birth that creative endeavor into the world — it uplifts everyone — and isn’t that what we’re all here to do?

Well, that and drink Sangria and eat fried food?

So therefore, it is my most humble request that you help me birth this project into its most splendid and kick-Ass physical manifestation. Whatever that looks like.

You have my utmost cooperation and my endless admiration and love.

I thank you for your kind attention,
Respectfully,
Janet Bertolus