... I should get a call from a dermatologist. He's supposed to tell me if the suspicious skin marks/patches/moles he shaved off me yesterday are benign or not. Although I have many freckles and various other funky skin stuffs, those 3 were the only ones he marked for removal.
The plot thickens...
G
I saw Hank Azaria jogging (sorry I'm stuck w/that term, can't replace it with the more current "running" even if I try) through Beverly Hills yesterday. And it was just me and him. No one else around. Except for my kids in the back of the car and my mother on the phone.
More later...
Ok I'm back. So I'm on the phone w/my mom and see this guy in a white T-shirt and no one else around. Because it was Beverly Hills I figured I'd have a good look to see if by chance it was someone interesting. But first I must make a notation... While George Clooney was still in his scrubs and filling the home screens as the new hot TV actor my heart belonged to the man not ashamed to vacuum while wearing really short Daisy Dukes and channeling a flamboyantly gay man. His name? Hank Azaria.
As jealous as I was of his seemingly-perfect relationship with Helen Hunt, it made him more so the ideal man, as he wasn't commitment phobic. That's, of course, until they actually got married and promptly divorced. While nursing a broken heart through Helen Hunt (I thought maybe he cheated), I grew distant, almost apathetic from all things Hank Azaria, in case he was... a dog-pig (like Clooney in my dream w/the strippers).
Back to the man in the white t-shirt. It was him, Hank Azaria. And as desperate as that last breath before going under water, or the last attempt to catch something before it crashes to the ground, my brain reasoned as best as it could: I rolled my window down, slowed down the car and when he looked at me I mouthed "I love you!". Everything else is a fog. I faintly remember him asking me "What?" and me repeating it. Then I think there was a peace sign or something, yet I was so mortified as within a nano-second I heard the big CRASH of the item I failed to catch in my attempt... my shame.
I had no dignity, no shame, and apparently no brain. I mouthed those words because I fortunately had a small amount of sense that made me aware of my kids in the back and the confusion it may cause them to see their mother randomly shouting "I love you!" to strange men on the street. And I was also lucid enough not to interrupt my mother with this loud declaration of love as I was driving down the street, she's already living with one person with dementia.
Ah, to live among the stars... It's so incredibly difficult to live here and not get somewhat caught up in it. I usually stay cool as I don't find many people as impressive, but... Hank Azaria?
It just doesn't get better than that.
G
Our kids have decided to go to another school next year. C wants to go there because during recess the kids are much more physically active (Dodge Ball and Hopscotch, she says) and S. Jr. almost peed his pants when he saw this school's computer room.
The day we went to check this new school out and to test the kids to see if they were ready (the homeschooled one is, the other one will need to get caught up a little - kudos to me), we did a full tour and were impressed all the way around. I also heard that it was very hard to get in, but because we belong to the parish (and I serve) it isn't a problem... ah, to have connections...!
But what I loved the most that day was the sheer joy in our son. So much so that at one point he ran up to the Director (who was giving us the tour), raised his arms at her and screamed "WACKA-WACKA!!". To this day I dont' know why he did this, but I'm still laughing. She basically looked at him and went "Oh, ok!" and kept walking. Fortunately they had already accepted him and I don't think she could go back on her word, thankfully.
I'm dreading next year's 7:50 am classes, but I suppose I'll cope. The neighbor 2 doors down has a child who goes there as well, and although I could ask her, I'm not sure she would carpool w/me. I tried before (our kids attend Cathecism at the same time) and she didn't respond...
Off to ask our son if he wacka-wackaed her too...
G
Gwyneth Paltrow = Tree
It is amazing to me the impact parents have on their children. Even at an age where you would think you could stop crying over it, or being afraid, or feeling unworthy, it hits you again.
I have a friend who is falling apart because of the treatment (or lack thereof) from her father and step-mother. She's almost 40 but as vulnerable and pained as a child of 6 years. It's really heartbreaking. And let's not even get started on me...
But when you realize that the #1 source of all our information, whether emotional, intellectual or otherwise comes from of these 2 beings that gave us life it's no wonder so many of us have issues. I remember thinking that if my dad said the sky was brown instead of blue, I would argue it to death with those who insisted it was blue, solely because "my dad told me so"... [BTW, Steve Martin just knocked at my brain's door with his "try teaching your kid all the words wrong" routine, funniest bit he ever did]
Now I'm a parent, and this enlightement of sorts is not helping me at all in the "don't beat yourself up" department, as I constantly question my parenting skills. The things I say and/or do... how I hear our daughter replicating the things I say and in the exact way I say them and our son is affectionate to a fault.
But to me, being affectionate could never be to a fault, so I guess some things I'll just have to own...
G
All is lovely in parent land. One minute you're quite content with being one of the more "relaxed" parents and the next minute you're spiraling down into Horrible Parent Hell.
Since moving back to California, I was reminded from the second I put my feet on our new home soil that this place is a lot more health conscious than say, Indy. But the thing is that some people go way overboard and I've met kids who've *never* had sugar. One just the other day got to try Coke for the first time. She's almost 8.
Yet lately I've been more aware of exactly how much sweet I am allowing my children to have and have had to make a drastic change, compliments of my own mouth. I had been more relaxed about the whole sugar intake thing because I would use my old "Oh, I used to eat such and such, and I turned out alright" adage until one day I was having a mental breakdown and put two and two together.
So I can deal w/the fact that maybe the sweet road I traveled was sweetened so much by processed, refined sugar that it might have had something to do with slight problems in my childhood, although the problem was never obesity, as many say. Aside from the homemade caramel/sugar/Nesquick Chocolate Bombs I frequently made for myself in a big bowl, I particularly remember these little liquor candy chocolate bottles I used to buy at the kiosk and eat with much pleasure. Obviously they held liquor inside, but more importantly, the bottles were made of sugar and coated with dark chocolate, which, to me, were heavenly.
Heavenly. Maybe because after eating them I would be flying higher than a freaking kite. Not recalling this, I had my sister send me some of these little bottles, and yesterday I received 15 of them. I quickly and excitedly opened one up to have my first bite. I didn't remember the liquor being so strong, nor that there was so much of it, but lo and behold I ate ONE and felt very happy. To top it off, I'm such a moron (just sometimes) that I couldn't wait to get home and thinking these things were harmless I ate my first one in the car. Nora, sitting next to me could smell the liquor as could the kids in the back. Thank God and everything wonderful that I did not get pulled over, as the stench from the alcohol was intoxicating enough and although I wasn't anywhere near drunk, how would I explain? Fortunately, I soon stopped to go grocery shopping and then it hit me. It took me hours of pinball-like aisle shopping to get done. It was fun, not so much for those waiting for me...
Right, so what do we make of this? Was anyone watching me when I was little? We're talking from age 7 on up, drinking liquor and happy about it, since I was never told it was a bad thing. I also wasn't told "no" when I had a little swig from the bottle of "8 Hermanos" anissette liquor every day after school. My mom said that a little bit wasn't harmful, but my guess is she didn't know about the little bottle that could... Then I remembered the New Year's day when I woke up with a headache and my mom said I overdid the cider. I think I was 8.
So that's what happens when you're the youngest of 5 in a family where the father is a doctor and the mother is overwhelmed by too many offspring. I no longer say "I did that and I turned out alright" because I didn't, I'm not alright.
But thanks to things I wasn't supposed to do I'm sure I enjoyed my moments of happy here and there............
G
Ok, I have to get this off my chest and over with. A few days ago I ran into a friend of mine in a very strange way, one of those "it happened for a reason" sort of way.
She had been battling bone cancer and just moments before I ran into her was told that it had spread all over (kidneys, lungs, etc.). Needless to say we hugged and all that.
For some reason I don't want to go into details. I don't really want to write about it. The situation is pretty horrible because she has a 7 year old daughter (friends with our kids) who is not wanted by her multi-gazilionnaire father (my friend's ex-husband) and hasn't seen him since age 1. At some point I might disclose who he is and we can all collectibly start a movement to boycott his products...
More later.
G
The other night not only was George de-throned, but I fell in love.
His stage name was Nicholas. He was tall, dark and handsome and worked in a sex house. For some reason, my husband and I went to it and I remember going in madly in married love. But at some point things turned weird (I think it was after the orientation meeting but before our appointment in one of the rooms of this sex house) and this guy made me feel like he knew me better than anyone. He gave me a signed copy of his sex-education/training video box, not the actual video. I managed to get my husband occupied with some girls that seemed fairly desperate (after some old man tried to kiss him) and started to desperately search for this guy all over the place.
It was stressful, exciting and insane. I can't remember anything else, except I should have written the whole dream the morning after, but now, 2 days later I forgot the details. All I know is that I was devastated because I woke up in love with someone who not only didn't exist, but wasn't the one I was married to. This feeling of empty longing lasted quite a while. Enough to make me call a couple of friends just so I could share my misery.
As the day progressed, the dream slowly faded along with my feelings of desperate love. THIS IS THE PART THAT WILL MAKE SOME PEOPLE SICK:
In the afternoon, I slowly started to confuse the tall, dark and handsome guy with my not-so-tall, blonde and "hottie" husband. The more I thought about it and time passed the more my husband crept into my mind. By the time night came I was a desperate housewife in love with her man, after realizing that the feelings I had were for the one I married all along.
Lucky for us the kids went to the neighbors' and we were able to act as we did when we were dating and childless: We spent the night wondering through Ikea and had a beautifully quiet dinner. We talked and I felt so in love, amazed at the fact that we've been together so long. Altoghether it was perfection, being able to spend all this time alone with him, knowing he'd have to leave me again the next day.
And yes I got some.
Twice.
G
It's exactly one month since my last post... jeeeezzzzzz. I think I just go through these spells where I think I write so incredibly bad, in a very dull and bored housewifey sort of way.
But then I read some other stuff I wrote that I liked and got inspired again, but I have no idea where this will take me. Let's see... I've been watching The Sopranos (sucky), Big Love (cool), Sons & Daughters (great), and The First 48 (because I want to be a detective). What I like the best is that there are people who live in this town who are into the workings of shows and hearing their take on what the shows are doing is very interesting to me, I assume (and especially) because their views are in agreement with mine, otherwise I would probably find their opinions a little... I don't know, but let's just say that I'm glad they are as smart and perceptive as me. Because, of course, I know everything and I'm always right. Except when I say I'm not, which makes me right again.
I don't know what it is that I'm feeling tonight. All I know is that my husband is gone (again) which means I will probably get sick (as usual), and for the umpteenth time I come to realize I can't live without him (bastard). And even though I'm post-PMSing, I am still not used to the feelings and still can't come up with any other way out than numbing my mind with television until all hours... and wake up exhausted the next day.
On to other things... I have some great new friends. So great that one even drove me on a stalk/hunt for George's house. So great that the other one even helped us find it. So great that although you can't see his house from the street would even be willing to go through his trash with me, or at least wait for me in the car while I went through it. So great that I didn't subject her to trash digging, but she did wait while I checked mailboxes to see which house it was (before we got help with directions). And I must add that although he's on the cover of Vanity Fair's "Green Issue", there was no recycling bin at his house. Only the yard waste and regular trash bins.
On the way home my friend and I talked about how dissappointing it is to actually meet celebrities. I mean, most people who need that much attention basically have something wrong with them anyway, right? Do I continue my quest and take that chance, that he will be a huge dissapointment?
So I'm one degree away but kind of stuck. My friends are going to a party that George will attend, but unfortunately I can't go as the nanny because the kids aren't going, I can't go as the 2nd wife as George would never buy they are polygamists, and I can't go as the assistant, because even though this is L.A. they would never.
To be continued...
