The Women’s Marches are not for us–at least, not the big ones like L.A.’s. We decided that last year, and then Mr. Sandwich suggested we make a last minute-try, because he could see how much I wished I were there, standing next to my friends to support our beliefs. And it was literally last minute; we threw backpacks together, bundled Baguette into the car, and set out.
We never made it. The Metro Red Line trains were too crowded; while the other riders waved us on, the crush clearly was too much for Baguette to manage. But I tried my best, and I got to cheer on and support other marchers. I feel like I got to be a part of it on some level.
This year, we didn’t even try. I couldn’t imagine that we’d been any more successful than we had been last year, and the photos my friends are posting on Facebook confirm that, indeed, this event is not right for Baguette. Instead, we made an almost last-minute decision to take her to the snow, of which there has been precious little in area mountains this year.
I decided to make a donation to an organization or two, and I figured that would be it.
But then another friend posted that she had gone to the Redondo Beach march. And I realized that, as always, there are more options than the ones right in front of me. The L.A. march isn’t right for us. But maybe there are smaller events that would work better for Baguette.
There’s a lot of 2018 left–but let’s see what 2019 brings.
What do you call a community of some 40,000 women who support each other? SITS!
Just like the name says, the secret is in support. Each day, the site features a blogger, and today’s my day.
Those of you who are new to Tragic Sandwich may be wondering what’s up with my name. You can find that on my About page.
So who am I?
I’m a 40-something writer/editor/social media marketer with a husband (Mr. Sandwich) and one daughter (Baguette).
I’ve lived all over the country, but have been in L.A. since Mr. Sandwich and I got married in 2004. We have a dog named Wicket who adopted us a few months before Baguette was born, and we love reading, TV, movies, travel, and the outdoors.
I like to cook, but I rarely have time–I’m not even able to pull together slow-cooker meals as consistently as I’d like. Simple and fast are key these days.
This blog is about our daily life–things we do, and things I think about. If you’d like to take a look around, here are a few recent-ish posts to get you started:
Amber Dusick of Crappy Pictures has a very funny post about a series of events contributing to her young son’s decision to become a police officer, or possibly a movie director. I think he should be a movie-directing police officer. Why not? This is America. Anyone can grow up to be anything.
As she points out:
We live in Los Angeles, CA. No, this isn’t something we see all the time here. I see famous people more often than I see guns. I have seen police with their guns drawn one other time in my life but that was outside of a Target® in Madison, WI. So there.
And that’s true. Not the Madison, WI, part. I’ve barely been there. No time to observe anything, much less police activity.
But this morning, as Mr. Sandwich was leaving for work, I heard helicopters nearby. And one of our friends posted on Facebook that they had been over her neighborhood and woke up her daughter (Baguette’s Bestie). Apparently there had been a police shooting nearby.
We all live in perfectly nice neighborhoods–not Bel-Air or Brentwood (well, I don’t know where Amber Dusick lives), but good places to raise children. So this definitely is a noteworthy event. And I don’t even see that much police activity. The closest I’ve gotten to a shootout was when we lived in our crappy apartment, and the guy across the street got tazed after taunting the police to shoot him (I guess he really, really didn’t want to turn down his stereo at 6 a.m.)
Then again, I almost never see famous people. Except Michael Clarke Duncan. I’ve seen him at a Whole Foods and at a restaurant, and they were in very different parts of town. Hmm. Now I wonder if Michael Clarke Duncan is stalking me. Because I do not need to tangle with Omarosa. Yikes. What if Michael Clarke Duncan thinks I’m stalking him? Because, again, I don’t need to tangle with Omarosa.
But between the lack of police shootings and the lack of celebrity sitings, I’m starting to wonder: Do I really live in L.A.? Because it’s nothing like TV and the movies.
I live in L.A., which means it never gets that cold. Mind you, you’ll find plenty of people bundled up against the weather. But it doesn’t rain that much, and while the temperatures can drop over night, a really cold day in the L.A. area has highs in the 50s.
That said, this winter has been unusually warm and dry. We usually have spring-like weather for a few days around New Year’s, and then some more in February. This year, though, we’ve had the occasional chilly day, but most of the time our highs have been in the 70s and even 80s.
While this sounds great to someone shivering through a snowstorm, consider this: winter is southern California’s rainy season. And along with our lack of cold, we have a lack of precipitation. It is really, really dry.
So to my fellow Angelenos, I guess I should say this: while the weather’s good, start planning your home fireproofing measures. If we don’t get more rain, this fall’s going to be a doozy.