Just another reminder in case you're interested, (and because some of you asked me to remind you), we're going to be on Country Style on HGTV (House and Garden Television) tonight at 7:30, here in LA, but check your local listings for the channel and time just in case they're different in your area.
I won another one of my Grandmother's (Peggy Hunt, she was a dress designer, so was my mother Jeannette Alexander) dresses on eBay, woohoo. This one is peachy and has rhinestones. I love rhinestones, anything that sparkles, I'm such a magpie, Scott can attest to this, you have to keep me away from stores, seriously, it can be dangerous, I want to gather everything up that's shiny and pretty and bring it back to my stash pile in my cage.
I finally had my poor tooth removed yesterday. It turned out that it was fractured and the root canal had failed. I didn't even know root canals could fail before this. I took a Vicodin before I left, just in case it would be super painful and it put me in a good mood, but how stupid was I to take a pain medication and then get in a car and drive myself? I think or I thought I was fine, I mean nothing happened, no close calls, no one honked at me, but afterwards I thought about what a selfish choice I had made. Although everyone thinks , "Oh no, not me, I'm special, I can drive just fine on this," I could have hurt someone. Many tsk tsks for Jacqui and her bad decision. I won't be taking one today while I drive Beau to his friend's Bar Mitzvah party, that's for certain.
I didn't realize how dangerous this choice was until I got to the dentist's office. I practically swung into the room like a character out of some Broadway musical, "There he is, my favorite tooth pulling dentist in all the world!" Well, I was so darned happy to see the guy, knowing that all of this pain, and the yucky rest of it, was finally going to be over soon. But he mistook my happiness for major dental improvement and said, "Wow, you must be feeling much better." But being the overly honest creature that I am I blurted out, "No, it's the Vicodin I just took. My tooth is actually worse and you should see the abscess now." When this received a kind of group gasp of shock from all of the people behind the reception desk, it hit me how abnormal my choice was. Then my surprised dentist said, "You drove yourself?" and that did it for me.
I called my Mom and asked her if she could pick up Beau from school. Age not withstanding I didn't want to be that poor eighty-something-year-old grandmother who put her car into drive instead of reverse at her granddaughter's school and killed a little girl in the process, or the elderly man who hit the gas instead of the brakes last year at the outdoor farmers market in Santa Monica.
The dental appointment itself was actually kind of fun, but that could be the power of the pill, if you know what I mean, and BTW no wonder people get addicted to these. Thank God that once the bottle runs out there isn't any refill available or I would become Melanie Griffith or any other of a number of celebrities who wind up at Promises in Malibu. Then again maybe that wouldn't be so bad, I'd get a break from Beau and the cats, I'd be living by the beach, get lots of therapy and be able to make friends with a few screwed up famous people ; ) Anyway my dentist is a sweetheart, (all of them are), and he was playing an Israel Kamakawiwo'ole CD so we were both singing along with one of my favorite songs while he extracted my tooth. I'm sorry but being a Hawaiian in some deep recessed fern grotto of my heart you just cannot play Bruddah Iz and not expect me to sing, even if it's while someone is yanking out one of my teeth. Hawaii, or more specifically, Maui No Ka Oi.
Vicodin or not, I'm great when I actually get my butt in the chair, it's getting there that is always the hard part. I'm always a good patient, fun, friendly, easy going, it's the poor people on the phone that get the worst of it. I'm always nice to them, but I used to do a lot of the ol' appointment cancellation shuffle. That's why my teeth, and what's worse and harder to admit here, Beau's, are in such bad shape, because I've been such a dentalphobe when there's no good reason on earth why I should have been, especially when I've been blessed with a family who would pay my bills and live in a country where we have terrific dentists.
Okay, well, I hope I get a chance to check in with you again before tonight, but I don't know if I will. I have to get my funny, little man-child's hair cut and buy presents for the boy whose bar mitzvah it is, and for the boy whose bar mitzvah we missed, because I'm pretty sure he'll be there as well. We're dropping the kids off at Max's house and the parents have hired a limo to take them to a concert at The House of Blues. This is all right up my little wannabe rock star's alley but of course he doesn't want to bother with cutting his hair or taking a shower, argh.
BTW poor, hurting Beau hasn't heard from Steven, his "best friend" since second grade, since he told him that he was, "out of the band man," over a week ago. Not a phone call, not an IM, not even a call on his birthday. Now that's what I call being mean and selfish, but hey, no surprise there. I think it's a human truism that when people know they've done something crappy to you, they tend to pull back and disappear because they feel uncomfortable.
They'll be back when his Mom needs a free baby-sitter or her son has said, "Fuck you," to her one too many times and she need a break, but this time this Mom isn't going to be as forgiving as she's been in the past. I am so done with this kid and his hurtful behavior. He's done so many crappy things through the years that neither he nor his mother have been accountable for, or offered to repair or repay us for, and we have been so good to him, and so incredibly forgiving. Do you know anyone who would allow their child to keep playing with a boy who had carved words like FU and Blair Witch into the wood columns and paneling of their home, been rude to and alienated every single babysitter/housekeeper they ever had, burned a hole the size of a softball through their son's mattress, and basically made life chaotic and hellish for everyone, every single time he came over? Well, I know one person, but that's all changing. I put up with all of this because Beau loved him so much, but there comes a time when a mom's inner lioness has to come roaring up to the surface, and after seeing your son hurt for a whole week that time has come. The only thing keeping me from picking up this telephone and lighting into this kid and everyone else is the fact that Beau has begged me not to. He says that Steven will call him a mama's boy and tease him if I do, which just adds more fuel to the fire as far as I'm concerned.
I used to worry that Steven or his mother might read my journal entries and get their feelings hurt. I loved them in my way but then I started thinking, they're so self absorbed, why would they bother, and now I'm so hurt and angry for Beau that I just don't care if I pour gasoline on this bridge and burn it. If you can allow your child to blow off one of his oldest friends over a brand new garage band composed of thirteen year olds then there's probably worse to come, and I think its better to know this now than ten years down the line when there's even more at stake.
BTW my Scott, Songmon here on Live Journal has a new website, yeay! Check it out, it's a little country for him, but it's the best one he's had so far and a good, kind and generous friend of his did the whole thing for free. You can't get much luckier than that.
Okay that's enough bleckyness for one entry, I've got prescriptions to fill, recalcitrant teenage hair to be cut, and bar mitzvah presents to be bought. Oh shit, it's three o'clock!
Salty sea dog sailor hugs,