Happy Caturday: Earthquake Cat Kit Edition

Earthquake Cat Kit

You know you’re a crazy cat lady if… you buy your cat an earthquake kit. And I did. I really did.

Let me explain: While E was out of town filming his pilot, I had the unfortunate luck of experiencing not one but two earthquakes while I was alone in our apartment. The first happened one morning around 6 a.m., and it shook out bedroom and bed hard enough that I woke up to being rattled around. Fish, being the clever girl that she is, darted from the room and took cover somewhere.

The second earthquake happened one Friday night while I was enjoying some Pho soup and a sad double feature of August: Osage County and Philomena with the exquisite Dame Judi Dench. I was on the couch when once again the room started to rattle, and Fish leaped for cover.

I’m from Florida, where we have hurricane parties every time the weather forecast predicts a big one, so I’m really NOT the type to panic. But something in me snapped with that second one (my sanity, perhaps?), and I immediately found earthquake kits online.

Open Earthquake Kit

At first, I just bought a kit for E and I. It’s a big bucket filled with preserved food, boxed water, and all manner of safety equipment. (And it also has a toilet lid, so you can use it to poop in. I really hope I never have to use that lid.)

But then I thought, what about Fish? What do cats do when an earthquake hits? Would she eat the preserved food we had or simply turn on us and eat us in our sleep? I google cat kits, just for fun, and was quite surprised to find many animal earthquake kits.


The one I ordered was a “deluxe” kit, and came in a bucket (no toilet lid), with dried cat food, a cat toy, water boxes, a pet first aid kit, a rope (?!?), and a pop-up water and food bowl.

The most curious item inside was a metal dog leash. I have no idea how this would help. I don’t know how it got inside the cat kit. But now we have a dog leash, just in case we meet a dog friend in the earthquake apocalypse.
Earthquake Supplies

There were also some glow sticks, in case we lose power, and a rather sensible bejeweled cat collar. (Perhaps the dog leash attaches to this collar? And perhaps she’d actually allow us to walk her on it? Doubtful, but still.)

Earthquake Kit Supplies


Fish inspected the lot herself. After all, in an emergency she will be depending on it. In the end, though, I think she was rather unimpressed.
FishyDoes getting a cat earthquake kit make me a touch insane? Yes, just a bit. But it does give me that placebo calming effect, which is really what these kits are intended to do. My biggest issue with the kit was really lack of a portable litter box. Though I suppose she could always use our toilet seat bucket…

Best Breakfast Pizza in Los Angeles: The Doughroom

When I lived in New York, brunch wasn’t a thing, it was mandatory. Every Saturday morning, you would crawl out of your tiny apartment to some spot in a remote neighborhood and suck down mimosas until everything felt better. It was a massive deal, and the only reason you wouldn’t be at brunch was because you didn’t live in New York. Or were sick, or whatever.

In Los Angeles, brunch is a thing you can do if you decide to put off hiking until later in the afternoon. People go to brunch, but not in the same way they do in New York. It’s not a bad thing, really, it just means that when brunch does happen, nothing less than excellence is accepted.



Enter: The Doughroom. My friend Allie, who runs a fantastic blog called Brunch or Bust, recommended we try it out. And since I’m not one to turn down food, I happily agreed. The spot itself is set in a pseudo strip mall, close to Culver City, and if you blink you’ll miss it. (In fact, when I was driving I did initially miss it.)

The exterior is unassuming, yet hip, with large windows and brick exterior that suggests something cool could be just inside. When you enter, it’s bright with large hanging bulbs and even more brick. TV screens display whatever game is currently playing, (can you tell I don’t do sports?), and there’s plenty of free table space. Overall, it feels calm, and not at all like the typical frazzled, loud atmosphere you’d find at most brunch spots.


The menu isn’t huge, which appeals to me, because I’m the type of person who, when presented with too many options, will curl into a fetal position. Allie ordered the breakfast polenta, while Chris, Allie’s beau, ordered the chicken and biscuits, which come smothered with two eggs and gravy. It was widely agreed that Chris made the best breakfast choice, but my option of the Breakfast Pizza with tomato sauce, egg, bacon lardon, mozzarella, and arugula came in a close second. As you can see, the dough was fluffy and perfect, the egg expertly done, and enough garnish to give it that pizza feel. All of the things… so many feels… just yum.

BreakfastPizzaDoughroomIf you’re curious to see what that chicken and biscuit order looks like, make sure to check out Allie’s review of it!

My Favorite 10-Minute Breakfast Smoothie (And It’s Non-Dairy!)

It’s recently come to my attention that the new trend in Los Angeles is not cupcakes, or cronuts, or anything of the baked goods variety. Instead, when I drive down Melrose, what do I see? Pressed juicers, macrobiotic smoothie stores, and juice cleanse bars. Much like Starbucks, there’s one on every corner, and soon I imagine the two will blend and create some sort of juicery-coffee hybrid.

That being said, those kind of stores cost MONEY. I’m not talking a $5 latte kinda money, I’m saying that for one smoothie you’re looking at $9 minimum, but more like $12 if we’re being honest. (And let’s just agree to be honest, shall we?)

But we all deserve healthy juice options, which is why I started making my own at home. It saves serious bank, takes all of 10 minutes, and tastes so yummy.DairyFreeBananaSmoothie
Here’s everything you’ll need for a super healthy, and really delicious start to the morning:

Dairy-Free Morning Smoothie:
  • 1 ripe banana
  • 1 cup of frozen mango chunks (I get a bag from Trader Joes)
  • 1/4 cup of frozen blueberries (Also available at Trader Joe’s)
  • 1/2 of a ripe avocado
  • 3/4 cup of Almond Milk
  • 1 tablespoon of golden raisins
  • 8 raw almonds (or a tablespoon of pumpkin seeds, if you prefer!)
  • A blender (I use the Ninja!)
  • In a blender, first add almond milk, banana, almonds, avocado, and raisins. (I read somewhere to put your “milk” in the blender first to make it blend easier.) Then top off with frozen mango and blueberries.
  • Mix on high for 2-3 minutes until smooth. To make a thicker consistency, double the avocado. Or if you want it thinned out, add almond milk 1/4 cup at a time until desired smoothness is reached.

Moving On Up To The East Side (Of Los Angeles)

Full disclosure: As I type this, my hands are shaking because of all of the stress of moving. If there are typos, or, say, a rambling paragraph about how I might light my hair on fire, please forgive me.

That being said, right now I am in the midst of moving from West Hollywood to Los Feliz. The difference is about 20 minutes, and a significantly closer proximity to hipsters. It’s slightly terrifying, and also extremely exciting.

I’ve been in my current apartment for four years, which is the longest I’ve ever lived in any apartment. (And the longest I’ve ever lived in any city.) Before that, I would hop around to a new apartment every year, or sometimes faster than that. In New York, I lived in three apartments over the course of a year, and not by choice. One was a sublet, the next went co-op, and the third was the final nail in my New York City coffin.

E and I weren’t expecting to move quite this quickly, we had always been thinking that we’d find a new place after the holidays and in the new year. But my friend Tom texted, and told me that a spot in his building had just opened up, so things changed very quickly.

BarCartandBoxesJust to give some background: Tom’s apartment is perfect. He lives in a two bedroom, two bath place with his boyfriend, Hadi, and it’s enormous; a huge living area, hardwood floors, a washer and dryer in the unit (I MEAN, WHAT???), and even a side area with a full bar. I’ve always said, quite literally, that “I want Tom and Hadi’s apartment.” So, to hear that a carbon copy had opened up in their building was the kick I needed to hop on the moving train.

Plus, and I’m sure other people can attest to this, moving into a brand new space with your significant other is really a big deal. Right now, E is living in my apartment. It’s ours, but it’s also really mine. My name is on the lease, it’s mostly all of my furniture, and I’d really like to share a place with him, where his furniture and things can be on the wall too. Because right now, there’s just no damn room for it.

So this month, we’ll be packing and shlepping our things from WeHo to Los Feliz. I’ve already become overwhelmed with all of the little details, (movers, rent, security deposits, new furniture, a housewarming party, a new commute, etc.), and E has been very good about calming me down. But I used to think moving was fun, and now that I’m older and a have a lot more stuff, it’s clear that the actual process of moving is complicated. And time consuming. And exhausting. And sweet sassy molassey, what is all this change about?!

I’m hopeful that after we move all of our physical stuff, the rest will just be exciting and new. But if anyone has any moving tips that could help us (seriously, ANYTHING), please let me know!


In Memory of Bertha the TV


When I first moved into my apartment, roughly four years ago, my landlord Vlad — a retired Russian man with an endless supply of cargo shorts — asked me a question that would change my life. “Do you want to buy the TV?”

The TV was old, impossibly large, and sitting in the middle of the living room. It was $20, and seeing as I didn’t have a TV at the time, and this one was already in my new apartment, I said yes. Just like that, I was a proud TV owner.

Cut to a few days later, after finally setting up my Ikea “entertainment center” (LOL). Words cannot explain the noise that came out of me when I finally managed to wrap my arms around this TV and heave it up and onto the console. Since that day, I’ve fondly called the TV Bertha, and my back has never quite been the same.

Now that E and I live together, though, things have changed…

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