The new year starts with cream cheese on the mountains, a smear of good fortune for this brittle, wind-swept land. I mean, where were all these sloppy storms a year ago?
The new year also starts with a video on the best way to crack an egg: NOT on the edge of the pan, or karate-chopping it with the spatula, as I’ve done for decades.
Actually, the best way to crack an egg, cooks say, is to tap it hard and quick against a flat countertop, then pull the two sides apart over the pan. The result: fewer shell fragments. Fewer “oh frapps.”
See, 2026 has already been better than the year before. If you do it right, you will never botch another egg.
Speaking of eggs, a passel of new babies is on the horizon, five preggers among family and friends. Five reasons to buy tiny Dodger t-shirts. Five guarantees that this will not be just any other year.
So, to recap, we’ve got the snow on the mountains, a new egg technique to try and (soon) five of the cutest smiles you’ve ever seen, surrounded by more smiles, plus concentric circles of smiles after that.
My advice to all young couples: Conceive, conceive, conceive. It’s fun (and occasionally quite profound)!
As we saw at Christmas, there is no bigger reason for celebration than a new infant, sometimes born to privilege, most times not.
Hey, who am I to provide cosmic life answers? I’m still trying to figure out why Susan Dey never returns my calls. I’m still trying to figure out this new Kindle.
We shan’t shun progress, ugly as it sometimes feels. FYI, they shuttered Brennan’s the other day, that spectacular old tavern down by the sea, 200 layers of shellack, 400 layers of sticky beer.
Famously, Brennan’s was the bar where they held turtle races on Thursday nights, with cheeky LMU kids cheering them on.
My theory: Weed and video games are killing off our best saloons. Where will we turn now for culture and kinship?
Anyway, on non-race days, these race turtles lived in stables on Brennan’s patio. What’s to become of them? Will they be turned out to stud?
Conceive! Conceive! Conceive!
I’d hoped to get over there for one last beer. But then Stuart Little, Suzanne’s micro sidekick, her yakety-yak soundtrack for 14 years, passed on. And our world stopped.
Stuart Little was the tiniest mutt I ever met, with the biggest heart and an ornery demeanor (90% heart, 10% ornery demeanor). Reminded me a lot of myself.
Every dog has his own epoch. Puzzles me why such valuable and beloved creatures have such short reigns while senators and other thugs seem to carry on forever.
Please keep a special place in your heart for our furry friends, who aspire to nothing more than to be your best pal, who know when you’re sick or sad, who turn every homecoming — from the grocery store to the gym — into a red carpet celebration.
“If dogs don’t go to Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they are,” Will Rogers once said.
You know, we deal with a lot of quiet in January. The holiday lights come down and the church choirs go missing. Maybe that’s a good thing. A little quiet now and then isn’t so awful. We fill the gaps with the crackle of the fireplace, or the rustle of leaves during a glorious January walk.
This, I vow, will be a year of small resonant moments. This, I vow, will also be the year of taking chances, of trying pungent new cheeses, of watching the grandkids grow.
Nothing stays as it was. One of my best buddies just saw his son move his family to Nashville. As a fellow parent, I feel it in my bones and belly, all the way from Chicago.
In 2026, there will be losses too. But, oh, those babies. The new cribs, the baby showers, maybe even a cigar or two.
Let’s get lit!
For some, especially new moms and dads, this will be a year of blown-out diapers and the biggest revelation of their lives: Being a parent is so %*$^*%#)%(% hard.
Well, just wait till they turn 14. Just wait till they eventually move to Nashville.
My lovely and patient older daughter is already having separation anxiety, knowing kindergarten is around the corner for her 4-year-old. At Christmas, she teared up at the sight of Cakes on her new two-wheeler.
Trigger warning, kiddo: The really good stuff flies by.
Too quickly? Who’s to say.
Seriously, let’s get lit!
Seriously, let’s get lit.
Please join me at the Rose Bowl Quarterbacks Club Tuesday evening, for a celebration of the 20th anniversary of the 2006 Rose Bowl, one of the greatest games in college football history. Vince Young, Mack Brown and Dan Fouts will discuss the dramatic Texas win over the Trojans in the final seconds. For info and tickets, please go to rosebowlqbclub.splashthat.com
Sincerely so sorry for Suzanne’s and your loss of that mighty mite little pup. His antics and love will live on in your hearts, I know. And new life is on the way! You are being a bit coy about exactly whose, so maybe not immediate family, but surely welcome into your big warm extended family circle. Good news is always welcome, especially in January. Congratulations and best wishes for a year filled with love and laughter ahead. Get lit!
New babies! Nothing more heartwarming than a new peck of them to bring light into the dark of Winter! But so sorry for the loss of Stuart Little! They are furry children and their loss is sorely felt for years. I still grieve for my Irish Setter who crossed the “Rainbow Bridge “ over 30 years ago plus all the others.😔 That poem gets me every time. God bless everyone this New Year especially the new babies!
Hey Chris you didn’t include the egg technique or maybe it was the tapping on counter to break shell in half? I find the cage free we have in Mass more difficult to break
Yep. The idea, I think, is to tap it on a flat surface. Otherwise, you’re pushing shell fragments into the egg itself.
I’m so sorry for the loss of wee Stuart Little. No, our furry family members are never with us long enough, and like Marguerite, I still grieve the loss of the ones who passed much too soon. Nearly three years ago, we two seniors adopted our senior boy, who’d been surrendered at the shelter because “all he does is eat, sleep, and poop.” Perfect for our house, which also includes our three-legged senior cat. We treasure every day. I also treasured hanging out at Brennan’s (I worked nearby in the 80s). Sounds like the best treasures are heading your way this year with the arrival of those babies! Congratulations to all.
Change is life. Damn it! After 50 plus years of having 5 retrievers (4 labs, 1 golden lab- 50/50) all wonderful, I now have a new little (10 lbs) companion, Madge. Mostly Maltese, adopted from the Pasadena Humane Society. 5 years old, she surely will outlive me. Such is life.
As a longtime pup rescue volunteer, I had to say THANK YOU for choosing to adopt a rescue, Joe!
Here’s to Madge!
Wonderful Joe! We’ve lost many and one precious Golden. How terrific you adopted from Pasadena Humane for Madge! Bless U!!
Chris: please just send all your readers a box of tissue at beginning of new year for when we tear up (again!) at reading your touching columns …..for all the babies and all the doggies ~ ~
So sorry for the loss of Stuart Little. Hugs to Suzanne and to you. Hard to say goodbye to our furry pals, especially after last year and the fires and all they’ve endured with you. Excited to hear more about these babies on the way….Our own pup turned 8 yesterday. She is great company and loves her walks and her treats. And ANYONE who comes to the door! Blessings in the new year to you, Chris.
Happy birthday. Dogs are family.
Please tell Suzanne my heart aches for her loss of Stuart Little. I am certain with everything she has lost, especially last year, losing him took on more sadness than ever.
On a happier note, you don’t say if one of the 5 babies is soon to be added to your beautiful grandchildren?
A nice note regarding Suzanne. More on the babies soon, but no more grandchildren on the horizon for me — for now, at least.
Wonderful pictures this week! Aha – I spot a whoopie cushion. They never go out of style.
Good eye. Yes, the 4-year-old loved the whoopie cushion
So sorry to have heard about tiny S. Little. So sorry for Suzanne’s loss. It’s so hard to lose these precious babies and Stuart was an adorable dog who I’m sure was given the best life ever!!
Poor Suzanne & you, it must be way too quiet without her long time furry sidekick!
Thank you, Ruth. Yes it is!
Losing a dog of long standing is something you never forget. As with some other family members, their memories become legend, and this establishes their place in the family canon. What I remember of this experience is that it helps to get away on a little trip elsewhere, to escape the empty collar syndrome and all its triggering emotions, but I still get blurry eyed thinking of those I loved. Who doesn’t? Perhaps Stuart wasn’t really Little at all, size being a poor measure of value or importance…especially in dogs.
…and if you get away, try a little tenderness…
Again In The Springs
We are in a vintage Palm Springs inn
With sweeping eaves and horizontal
Sandstone walls, listening to records
On a phonograph that make it sound
Like Nineteen Fifty, late afternoon
Sunlight pouring over the purple
Flanks of San Jacinto like ice cream
On blueberry cobbler, time running
Backwards on a spinning vinyl disk
Bearing us relentlessly up stream
To the past, waiting for night to come;
For this is a place where dreams begin
To blend with reality on all
Sides, each moment seeming afterwards
To have dimensions that wrap around
Memory, so that at night the moon
Light shines with an eerily supple
Haze as if light itself were a dream
Some ghostly presence in the stunning
Clarity of desert air with brisk
Authority had turned on like steam
With a latency more than the sum
Of time’s inconsistencies–you feel
What came before is present–and real;
Or maybe it’s imagination–
Desert sand on its dry quest for sun
Collecting light in each recalled grain
Of the day to shine at night again
Or perhaps it is what came before
That we have come back here looking for
Timeless– like desert light–to adore
Or a past love–who could ask for more?…
a great place to remember and re-experience the love’s of one’s life.
All of them.