Thursday, October 3, 2013

Even in Yosemite, Scarlett Johannson is Just a Breeze Away

I’m rarely spontaneous anymore, which happens when you have kids. You can’t just jump on a plane and go to Katmandu or drive to the Palm Springs Fashion Outlet on a whim.

But my sister spontaneously showed up in LA from the East coast and she has three times as many kids as I do, so how could I just take her to Venice Muscle Beach? 

She had never been to Yosemite, and I hadn’t been in a while, so we threw together some clothes, got in my car and sped away.

Liz is my favorite sister. She’s funny, smart and wise. We are also both at a point of reexamination in our lives. What exactly are we doing?

Liz: I did it!  I can’t believe this is happening. Last year the San Jauns. Now this. Finally!

Liz carries three phones and they beep constantly with various texts from a variety of children. It’s amazing how organized she is, even when away.

I hadn’t really thought about my kids.

But, I was facing down a big fear. Leaving LA.  While I travel a lot, it’s not without great trepidation. Once I’m on my way, the anxiety leaves.  I was looking forward to facing down a giant Grizzly like in We Bought a Zoo. I truly believe I could do that. I’m the female Matt Damon.

After a few bad gas mishaps, (who even knew there was cheap gas made out of corn oil??) sandstorms and contaminated food, we found our way to the park. And just in the nick of time since it’s now closed now due to the government shutdown.  I met a lot of people up there, Russians, Slovakians, hundreds of employees.

Most of them have been working at the park for many years. It’s simply hard to imagine where they will go. They lived on the grounds, including the Yosemite Witch.  If you have not met her you have not fully lived. She’s awesome.

Meanwhile, I haven’t stayed in a cabin in the forest since I was in my early 20’s and that was only to impress some guy.  “Look at me! See, I’m THAT girl.”

Liz and I basically had two small beds encased in logs.

The point of the trip was to hike and scale Half Dome.  Looking at it seems ominous but not altogether impossible. 

I hiked Pikes Peak, but I was 15. And also I had more than shorts and flip-flops.

Of course I’ve hiked every trail in LA, and continue to do so. But the difference is from the first step of the Yosemite trailhead; it’s a steep, rocky incline, often pathless, often nothing but boulders to crawl over, or steps thrown together by falling rock. But what you see is stupid gorgeous.

Vernal Falls rainbow photo op ^ ^ ^ 

Without realizing we had taken the most difficult trail marked SEVERE, we also thought we were going four miles, not 12! Also this sign was turned backwards. We read, restrooms ahead. Eh. And of course it started to sprinkle.

All of this was fine except both of us were wearing lame shoes. I gave Liz my hiking boots, that were too small for her, and I wore rain boots; as in galoshes. The only thing the rain boots offered was grip on the bottom. Basically I’m going up a straight incline with duck feet.

Here we meet a lovely family of young Brits. The stud Jason Stratham father was carrying his 2-year old son on his shoulders and bouncing all over the place taking pictures. His model wife was carrying her 9-month old in a front carry contraption.  To make me feel worse about complaining on any level, they had their 70- year old parents with them, all gung-ho, cheerio and annoyingly chipper.

I basically hung onto this family because they knew Yosemite like they had built the place. This was the 2nd time up that day! WTF.

We were indecisive about which way to go. Back down, up or across.

How do you even make sense of that nonsense? ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Jason Stratham: Just follow us. We’re going to the summit. The way down is much easier. Most of the trail is paved, or flat.

Me:  Like with tar?

Old Man: It’s a breeze.

That sounded perfect because I certainly didn’t want to go back down four miles of cliff stairs, so we followed them. I mean they were carrying small children. How hard could it be?

Well, it turns out Jason was a pompous liar. I sensed he climbed Mt. Everest a few times, possibly all of them had.  They were jumping and scooting over the boulders like squirrels, laughing, chatting. I started to hate them.

Often they would go off trail to get a better view. Old Man was tripping the light fantastic, “Look at this! Nevada Falls!  God’s country. Come on up!”

No thanks. Someone trailing behind me said: "We won the war douche!" WHAT!

I was afraid to see who it was and stayed focused on the foot tracks to stay on course. We eventually lost the Strathams because they were practically running to my wounded animal creeping. 

There was a sheer drop off to my right. Why the hell would I run?
Somehow I thought Brits were a bit daintier. I might expect this behavior from say, a German. Lots of Germans on the trail. They were not show-offy. But they were sturdy.

The 2nd fall was water flowing over slate.

Nevada Falls closer ^ ^ ^ ^

Me: Wow. That is exactly where some designer got his inspiration for those cool bathroom sinks.
Liz: What?

We made it to the top. Unlike Justin Beiber I did not have to be carried.  Seriously Justin? You're 17.

I mean, check my bad self out ^ ^ ^

It almost doesn’t matter where you go in the world, you will find a celebrity. Be it the Great Wall of China or Half Dome.

This kid is not only being carried by 250 pound men, but texting pictures of how he made it to the top and I suspect there was a helicopter waiting for his arrival.

Enough about him. Our summit was flat, with a shiny blue lake off to the side; the air was misty, we were dwarfed by Sequoias. Peaceful, and very few people.  Beautiful.  I could see why a few pros brought up tent gear. Billions of stars would poke through the night sky. Magical.

I saw some women lounging under a tree and knew from their designer outfits, matted makeup and coiffed hair they were from LA.

And wouldn’t you know, it’s a movie star. To her credit, she made the climb on her own, but brought along her award winning hair stylist and make up artist.

This was not a film shoot; she just went about her life this way. Camera ready.  We’ll call her Scarlett Johansson. 

We joined and all sat around, ate our energy bars, drank tons of water and talked about Hollywood. I knew the actress from a work thing, but her hairstylist just found this coincidence mad crazy. 

They were going for the windblown look. ^ ^ ^

Stylist: What a small world. Here we are, at the top of Yosemite! What are the odds? Sick!

Not really. I mean it’s four hours away. What I found insane was how actors really do travel with their beauty team even on long, wet hikes. No one actually took her picture except for her stylist.  I’m sure it will show up in a tabloid somewhere like it was an accident.

I did not come here though to see more Hollywood. So Liz and I said goodbye and ran off. I’d rather be with the pompous Brits.

We used the time stumbling back down to discuss all the possible 2nd acts we had been thinking of.  Liz thinks I should be a therapist and start turning my insights into money. Cute.

I told her what I thought she ought to do, but that’s private. She’s keenly intelligent, artistic and organized.  It amazes me how she manages her big family, keeps everyone on track and all of her kids are spectacular. I have a hard time with the car pool lane.

We could hear various worldly callings in the slight breeze on the summit, clarity I had not experienced in a long time. I even had a vision.

But that was the actual sky.

There is nothing more refreshing than a huge National Park to separate and remove you from your life, entirely. Not once did I think about home. 

At the foothill, by now we had both taken our boots off. I threw mine away. We caught up with the Stratham’s.  All refreshed, ruddy-cheeked, glowing. They did not look like they had just hiked and scaled for the past 14 hours.

Old Lady: “Enjoy your stroll?

Was she joking? Stroll? I could barely walk. I didn’t answer her. I suppose that was rude but I just wanted to get the hell off the mountain.

Then the actress and her stylists come clomping down on mules.

Actress:  Hi there! So much better taking a nag down. God, my feet were killing me. What happened to your boots?
Me: I threw them at a hungry bear.
Actress: Holy shit!  You still have five more miles. Glad you’re okay. Hey, do you want a picture with me?
Me: Nah. Thanks though. Enjoy.
Actress: Wasn't this fun!

My thighs and ass got a fantastic workout. Liz and I collapsed in bed.

The next morning I found this on my car. I had an unopened box of Dots candy on the seat.

I was about to plan another trip, this time with the kids, as they would just love Yosemite, when I saw this news.    I can't help but wonder what will happen to all those international travelers, the workers and the Yosemite Witch.

For us, back to Santa Anita Canyon. This is one of my favorites in LA.

Rhonda Talbot on Yosemite,  hiking insanity, movie stars, family, and Grizzlies.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Kindness of Strangers, College Boys, Post Offices and Jake Gyllenhal...Um

Having been a student for a number of years, my son has his routine down. Leave two days before his first class without a place to live, grab a backpack with some books and travel 3000 miles to said college. He also leaves his entire wardrobe laid out neatly on his bed, dress shirts on hangers, for me to box up and send to Pennsylvania.

Son's text: Oh, Mom. Think I found a place! No need to send the hangers. Plenty here. Thanks! 

Like that was ever an option. 

Me: What about a coat? 
Son:  Nah. Coldest it gets is about 25 degrees. No worries.

Everybody on the East coast can spot the kids from California because they wear T-shirts and flip-flops in a snow blizzard.

I actually like going to the post office because I love talking to strangers. One of the reasons I enjoy traveling. The people you meet are full of surprises, often fascinating and kind to a fault; the way true friendships ought to be. Until they become complicated.

After stuffing my son's clothes into some boxes I found in the garage, I also enclosed dried mango, Emergency-C packets, a box of vegan cookies, artwork from his younger twin sisters, and a book of Einstein quotes.

Hauling in my hefty parcels, I was met with a long row of postal workers giving me the stink eye from behind their glass cages.

For a second I thought maybe I was on the TEN Most Wanted wall, but then realized what was happening.  In my efforts to recycle and fulfill my environmental duty, I had neglected to look at the actual containers which read "Liquid Contents," and "Handle with Extreme Caution."

(My twins are avid lizard and snake collectors, 20 last count. We receive weekly packages of frozen, dead mice, along with other supplies, all packed in ice.) 

Not to mention I had taped gaping holes and constructed the lid out of construction paper.

I should have consulted Pinterest Tips on Shipping. My god, these people have field days wrapping boxes! A true art. Who knew? Yet, a hobby. Who has time for that? I wish I had time like that.

I had to take everything out and repack with priority boxes that cost ten bucks a piece, plus their special tape, another eight dollars. But I met this lovely woman. She too was packing a college-bound box, for her grandson, Hillel.

Okay, so it wasn't Dr. Ruth Westheimer, but she had a similar glow. I wanted her to be my bubbe.

"Wow! You have some real goodies in there," as I inspected her perfectly shippable box.

Homemade sugar cookies, bagels, frozen blintzes, pastries, latkes. There seemed to be no end to the food.

Dried mango! Really? This is what I send my beloved son?  I needed more noshes.

“And they're all kosher. Looks like we are doing the same thing. My grandson,” Dr. Ruth said wistfully. “He’s a freshman in Wisconsin. They don't know from kosher."

Another children of the corn college. What is it with California boys needing to be surrounded by wheat fields and Christians?

"Where did you find kosher donuts?"

She looked at me and smiled. I was going to lie and tell her I was half Jewish, but I couldn't. I needed a grandmother. I was feeling completely inept as a parent with my crap box and lack of latkes.

"Oh, I'm an honorary Jew. I mean, my mother was not Jewish but all of my friends were and their moms were like my 2nd mothers so yeah. I almost had a bat-mitzvah."

"That is so sweet."

Dr. Ruth went on to tell me about this special bakery off of Fairfax, the Hasidic district. But I think she was just being nice, because kosher food is readily available everywhere, even Ralphs.

We bonded immediately. She told me all about Hillel, tears in my her eyes. His love for Legos, chess, how he traveled the country by rail after his senior year in high school, his summer in a kibbutz.

“They grow so quickly!”

“But they never really leave home,” I reassured. 

She put her arm around me. I started to cry. Not because I missed my son, though I did, but because no one had never sent me boxes of pastries at college or even cared enough to call. I never knew my grandmothers. Dr. Ruth was so doughy and soft. My fantasy grannie.

“Oh, dear, you're shvitzing.” She handed me a neatly folded, delicate handkerchief.

“Well, I’m about ready to plotz.” 

She held me tighter. I showed her the twin’s handiwork of gekkos in the desert, gekkos basking in the sun, gekkos in a flowery garden.

“Look at what his sisters made him. They are knitting a wool cap as we speak."

“It’s beautiful. He will be so happy. These kids are so far away. They need a touch of family.” 

Then kind of conspiratorially Dr. Ruth said, “Hillel's mother is an important businesswoman and often doesn't have time for such things, but Hillel is a special boy. I just don't like that he is so far. Is UCLA such a bad option?"

"Wow. He's so...  Jake!" 
“Oh, that. People tell me he looks like some cute actor. So, does your mom ever send your son anything?”

“Well, she wasn't your typical grandmother. She lived on a remote island and frankly I’m pretty sure she didn't even know he went away to college. She didn’t notice when I left for college. But… from time to time she would send my daughters poems and dissertations they couldn't read."

"My mom was an artist. Writer, painter, sculpter. She had two PHD's in poetry.”
"Neat. That's fantastic. You must be proud."
"Yes, she was awesome. But she got the cancer. She died last year."

Now I'm really crying, ridiculous. Grief is odd, I trusted my new bubbe.  My son went to a few raves, never a kibbutz. 

"My boy does really well in school. So smart. But I don't want to sound like one of those helicopter parents."

"It's fine to brag sometimes about your kids. The rest, I don't know, some of these parents today are meshuggah."

Dr. Ruth was putting Challah bread into my box. I let her.

"My mom and I were similar. Now I have no one to call at the most difficult of times. I miss her constantly. I need to stop crying."

"She's in your heart. Forever. Always looking down on you."

I sighed and shook off the tears. "Sorry about that. Thanks for talking to me. You are so very kind."

“Your son is going to be just fine.” Then she wrote down the address of the kosher bakery. “Even their gummy bears are kosher. It’s amazing.”

“That’s nuts!” I couldn’t think of a Yiddish word for amazing.

My shipping box was finally finished and really it was a thing of beauty. I decorated it with hearts and flowers and robots and gekkos. It cost $240.00 to mail.

As I was leaving, my new bubbe smiled and said something in Yiddish I couldn’t comprehend.  I know the word good-bye in probably eight languages, but this was tricky. I went blank. But then it came as natural as true friendship.

“Shalom!” I shouted, then, “Oh, and Mazel Tov too!”

I left feeling lighter, warmer, then noticed on the slip of paper along with the kosher food bakery  Dr. Ruth had left her phone number. Maybe my mom really was looking down on me.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Great ways to get the kids OUTSIDE in Los Angeles

This is a repost with better links, because LA is a place that is in constant need of exploring. I wrote this piece for, last year, where I am a contributor for all things family, but the info applies anywhere.

The bigger question is when was the last time your kids fell off the bike handles or carpet-rolled down a snowy hill?

As a parent of nine-year-old twin girls, I spend a great deal of time looking for ways to entertain them that does not involve electronics. I am not alone. Most parents, if not all, share this dilemma. We have long ago given up on trying to express relatable comparisons to the time when we were growing up.

“Well, I would leave the house at 10:00am and come home at dinner. In between, I would ride my bike until the rubber burned, create magic shows for the gullible kids willing to pay one dollar to make a pencil disappear, climb trees until my knees bled, hopscotched in the middle of the road and eat fresh strawberries off of Mrs. Pennycakes vines.” Ad nauseum.

In most cities today the kids can’t even open the front door. The script goes like this:

“Someone is here, Mom!”
 “Don’t you dare answer it!”
 “Why? It's just some guy with a clipboard.”
“Back away slowly, then hide under the kitchen table.”

Amidst this post-Armageddon bomb-shelter mentality, I remain determined to share some great stuff to do with your kids outside. Los Angeles is brimming with fun, free or low-cost activities. Before we get to that, however, you will literally have to unplug, disconnect, or disarm your kids from their "electronic pals." Not an easy task, but power through the drama. because once outside, it all changes.


Let’s start with parks. Grab your bikes, skateboards, balls, Frisbees, or nothing at all and take them to a park. They are everywhere, with real, live trees, green grass, humans, basketball courts, and swings. You can go here ( and find hundreds of locations. This is a great website because it will also guide you through many activities available to kids, from soccer, to dance, to basketball, baseball, etc. Also many of these parks have pools.

The YMCA is another great destination. Quite a few have been revamped. They practically look like four star hotels; outfitted with  heated pools, warm towels, clean facilities, lifeguards, and lots of outdoor playgrounds.

Hiking. A must. We are lucky to have so many options. Lots of hiking zones also cater to dogs. Watch your children go crazy. You can find a huge list of places off the beaten path hikes.  I took the kids on a summer of local hikes, waterfalls, lions, snakes, cultural history.

Here is one experience. 

Cultural activities abound. Every month someone is celebrating something somewhere in L.A. Downtown we have the African American Museum,  Chinatown and Olvera-Street. This is merely the tip of the iceberg.

Museums of interest to any child would include The Science Center and Natural History Museum (at USC), Disney Hall (downtown) L.A. Tar Pits and LACMA (Mid-Wilshire). Huntington Gardens (Pasadena) is a splendor for children, as is their library.

Same is true with the amazing library downtown. In fact, any library will pique their interest. Several have readings by known authors and other educational events. For more specialized interests the Peterson Automotive Museum (Mid Wilshire across from LACMA) is a great outing and boasts games, treasure hunts, readings and more.

The Griffith Park Observatory is a must for everyone. The observatory offers hours of unique, mesmerizing, educational fun. A meteor shower, moon phases and launching Space X Dragon Capsules simply can't be seen anywhere else.

Griffith Park is sort of like the Los Angeles version of Central Park but without the ice rink. Enviable open space, nature and the freedom to explore. And at least once you need to do the nighttime horseback ride with its cowboy prepared campfire and grub. (Okay, maybe actor cowboys but cowboys still.)  The 360 views are unmatched.

I am going to throw in a few more adventures of which my own kids never grow tired: Planting trees at Tree People; visiting the Aquarium at the Santa Monica Pier (fish touching a big draw there,) bike rides and walks along the ocean. There are so many beautiful areas all you need to do is drive up the PCH until you see a spot to park.

My kids love kelp, I have no idea why. They throw it, smash it and if I allow them, make me disappear.

Loads of fun. Heh.

Regarding television, I watch very little, but what I like and approve are the following:

Modern Family. Who can’t laugh at this great program?

The Cooking Channel. My daughters basically have become gourmet chefs.

National Geographic. There is not a mammal, marsupial, lizard, snake, spider or dinosaur they cannot identify. The channel is great, depending on the show because it leads kids to …ta-da… the library in order to obtain more information on whatever Cheetah or Penguin they were going on about.

Finally, on school nights, this is where your imagination and history come into play. Pull out Life, Monopoly, Cranium, Yahtzee, Checkers, or just have a drawing contest. I always lose.

Their most fun game is charades. It involves nothing, but oddly teaches them a lot. And because they are young, and their references are often, well, young people such as Taylor Swift, I always lose. Kids love that.

Here are a few websites I will leave you with you may also find helpful.

This website helps guide parents by rating TV shows, movies, video games, books by age and often gender of child. It can be quite helpful.

Finally I love outdoor movies and ice cream trucks.

My favorite is Eat, See and Hear. Check the movie and times, but a great benefit of living in Los Angeles is being able to go outside almost any day or night of the year.

Have fun!

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Miley Cyrus, Blurred Edges, Fame and No.

Here I am once again so late to the party that not only has this Miley Cyrus/Robin Thicke twerking thing passed but apparently she was engaged then not engaged to some famous guy I never heard of--Liam Hemsworth. I had to look him up.  Honestly, could this get more complicated? He is the younger brother of two other famous actors I never heard of, Chris and Luke; an Australian trio of young lads who found their way to Los Angeles.

Of the three brothers, I’m slightly embarrassed by my ignorance regarding Chris Hemsworth.  He starred in Thor! Avengers! Snow White and the Huntsman!  Didn’t see any of them. But I did see Cabin in the Woods! But I can’t recall since everyone was usually covered in blood and died.

Chris, on the surface, seems really great. He built this massive career, is making a fortune, has a new baby girl and is helping his brothers out.

I can’t place Liam. I did see Hunger Games on DVD but don’t remember this guy. Or any guys. I only remember Jennifer Lawrence, hoping this role would not in any way damage her perfect career choices. It did not. I love her.

Star. Talented. Brilliant. ^ ^ ^ ^   

In any case I always have to ask my kids what the fuss is regarding any matters of pop culture. 

Though I don't want this, like an unstoppable flood, media gossip spills off the mag racks, into the street and finally into our house. 

I haven’t watched the VMA’s since Kurt Cobain was carried onto stage to get his prize. And I think it was called MTV awards.

I remember Hannah Montana because it was a TV show that I wouldn’t let my kids watch. Though many of their friends did, it seemed too mature and well, ridiculous for them. A sweet girl that no one noticed who morphs into a sexy rock star at night and everyone notices. Not a message I liked.

So they really only know Miley as this:

E:  We used to like her. We don’t like her now. She's gross and just wants attention.
A:  People try to act like her at school. Gross. As singers go, we like Adele.

They have no clue who Robin Thicke is, and I actually thought this whole controversy was about Alan Thicke, an actor I vaguely remember for being on a TV show that centered around kids. But I never saw the show.  My only recollection of Alan is a friend of mine dated him the 90s’.

I actually thought this old man was twerking on stage with a naked Miley Cyrus. Yuck.

Okay, I get it, he has a kid, Robin. So, then I thought the controversy had to do with two girls making out on stage ala Madonna and Britney. No. Robin is a dude.

As a parent, you kind of need to stay slightly aware of current pop culture, because this is what may or may not be influencing your children.

Fortunately my girls don’t like anyone who is famous for being famous, don’t like girls who prance around in panties while they sing, seem to understand that it’s all for attention and finally they have great taste in music.

They would much rather listen to Lenka, The Rolling Stones and Imagine Dragons than Miley, Taylor Swift or Justin Beiber who they seem to actually loath. They do like Lady Gaga.

E: She’s seems like a pop star but is more than a pop star, has a great voice, always changing. We get she has to be over the top to stay relevant but she’s really talented. The rest are not.
A:  Plus her videos are totes mad. Taylor Swift dresses okay but her music is boring.

They love her new song Applause and I let them listen to it because she's 100 women in one, essentially lets the world know she is in on the "pop" culture joke and she's also a great singer. However, I don't let them watch that particular video.

So I finally looked at the Miley Cyrus Alan Thick Blurred Lines Video.  When I found out the song was called Blurred Lines, I felt tremendous relief because I see that phrase trending constantly and thought it had to do with fancy eyewear, like Prada announcing new lenses for people suffering from Blurred Lines.

Oh but wait! First I looked at the Robin Thicke video. How does this pass for a song? A really horrific version of an old Michael Jackson, maybe Prince track filled with offensive lyrics and naked girls strutting around suggestively in high heeled sneakers, yanking on goats and foam fingers.  I thought I had stumbled upon the porn section of You Tube. 

Robin seemed kind enough, I can see it in  his ocean blue eyes. But what the heck? This is nothing more than a continuance that "good girls" just need to be freed up with drugs and booze to get their wild sexy on.

-I know you want it
I hate them lines
I know you want it
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me-

Do men still really believe this? The old "Catholic girls are animals in bed" bullsh** once someone plies them with booze and rips off their school vest? God help us.

Then I look at Blurred Lines with Miley Cyrus. She did nothing more than throw in her twerk obsession, because you know, Miley wants the world to understand she is down with rap. 

And when will white performers stop reducing black music to twerking, grills and bitches?

How is this a number one song? Combine Thicke's archaic idea that girls really "want it" with white female musicians trying to appropriate black music through the crudest of ways made me wish I hadn't seen this at all.  

Miley naturally had to outdo the Thicke video, so she heightened the suggestive foam finger routine. At least she kept her bra on. But of course it got worse... bring out Pharrell, whoever that is:

-Nothing like that last guy
He too square for you
He won't smack that ass or tear that hair for you-

It gets worse, but you get the idea. I'm sure you've already seen this nonsense passing for entertainment.  As said, way behind pop curve.

This is also not new. MTV has been swarming with girls wearing thongs in porn videos celebrating drugs and sex as long as I can remember. But, like everything, the envelope is constantly being thrust onto an ever increasing blurry edge. When Alanis Morissette walked the subways nude, she did this to make a point. 

Now there is no point, except pure exploitation. I suspect the next big You Tube hit will be Miley singing nude while being passed around by the Duck Dynasty. 

Miley was surprised by the commotion but this is not her fault. Music companies push kids to do exactly what the song is saying.  "You want to be the next Madonna? Outdo her. Now."

I mean, look at Justin Bieber. What happened to this cute kid?

Music executives. "Okay, Justin. You can drop the sweet boy from Canada thing. This is America. We can keep you at the top of the charts. Act like a thug."

Never in my young life did I contemplate putting on skimpy underpants and high heels to go shopping on Melrose. But times have changed. I don't know if girls think this is liberating or mandatory. So I consult the twins.

E: It's disgusting. Those girls just want attention like the plastics at school but with a bigger audience. They want fame.
A: Just no.

The girls don't have access to the internet but they hear stuff at school. They see pictures. They know all about twerking. They also love to dance. We have dance parties in the living room. It's fun.  

Me: What is twerking?
E: Oh sick. Mom, don’t ever try that. It's disturbing. Plus, you’ll break your back.
A: It's so eeewww!
Me: I’m giving it a go. 

Both girls screamed!

I tried to do a handstand against the wall which I’ve done countless times in yoga.  How hard could it be? Then add a slight pelvic tilt, which btw, I do in my cardio barre classes anyway. I tried to combine this but my wrists collapsed. Yeah, not a pretty sight.

I probably should have taken off my shoes.

E: Mom, don’t do that anymore. It’s not for old people. Also anyone can do it. But why? It's stupid.
A: So lame. It’s all lame.

Rhonda Talbot reporting on Miley Cyrus and twerking.