I'm trying to teach Iggy Ziggy Stardust Kitty to play fetch. I don't know if I'll ever get anyone to be as good at fetching as Spooky and Rook were, but I can try. Right now he's more into doing the whole toss and fetch thing all by himself, but I've gotten pretty good at this and hope to be telling you soon how he's become our latest fetching feline pal.
I'm watching Travel Channel's Best Beach Resorts so I can fantasize about traveling the world, and doing not too much more than laying around, swimming, snorkeling, and scuba diving in the sea, eating, shopping, and making love. I feel privileged when they mention resorts I have been lucky enough to have been able to visit; they listed the Hyatt on Kauai and the Negresco in Nice, (I swam and sunbathed topless there), but I just missed one while I was writing to you about Ziggy. Hang on while I rewind this...oh it's Mexico, ahh Mexico, I do love Mexico, but I like my island paradise beach resorts to be farther west. I suppose I'll always be in love with Hawaii and Tahiti. I so want to go to the Seychelles, ha, talk about your good timing, here it is; The Banyan Tree Resort right smack in the middle of the Indian Ocean on the South Western coast of the island of Mahe. Wow, this island was once owned by Petter Sellers and George Harrison. Now wouldn't that be nice, to have your own island? Sigh.
Talking about ruining your skin in the sun, yesterday I went to my new dermatologist and had the dressings removed from my burn for the last time. As annoying as they were to maintain, I wish I could have kept them on for just one more week. My arm is much better, but it's so ugly, red, sore and raw. The new baby skin is so tender and there's no keeping it from bumping up against things like, say, fur covered beings.
There was this amazing, medication-infused sticky pad that they put right over the burns to cover and help heal them. I've had it changed three times so far. I was afraid at first because I figured that what little skin remained would peel off along with the sticky pad each time they removed it, and it did, but then it got better, much better, and I learned to love this magical healing pad. I don't know what this is going to end up looking like, because it's as red as a piece of watermelon right now, but it's so much better than it was, and I'm amazed at my body's ability to heal itself.
After waiting for hours in a standing room only waiting room, with all of these other people, who were also waiting to get in to see my uber popular dermatologist, and her surgeon brother, I am more aware of how damaging even the smallest amount of sun exposure can be than ever. It was definitely interesting meeting all of these people who were having photo facials, laser treatments, chemical peels, and so many of the latest cosmetic procedures done. People seemed more open and willing to talk about what they were getting done there, than they are elsewhere, maybe because if you're there with them you're part of the club. I got the feeling that many of them are regulars.
There were of course some fellow actors, one very well known, and one less well known. Which reminds me of how wrong I was as a kid to have longed for the kind of success that makes you so well known, (Or recognized because fame doesn't mean that people know you, just that they think they do, which is worse), that you can't even have a moment of privacy in your doctor's office. Beyond the momentary fantasy of it, I honestly think it must be hard to have everyone around you, everywhere you go, either staring at you and talking about you, crowding in to your space, wanting something from you, or pretending not to notice you, ALL THE TIME. I always choose the latter option because I think it's kinder and less intrusive.
I have never seen so many lush pillowy lips, clear skinned faces, and smooth foreheads in one place at one time. I spoke with one woman who was just coming in for a little "filler" before her son's wedding. She was having Restylane and Botox, (The nurses in my doctor's office have baby tees with these words on them in rhinestones), injected into various parts of her face to keep it looking "fresh" and youthful. Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not judging anyone here because as soon as I finish this complicated acne ridding regimen I've begun, I'm going to get in line right behind them. I've been fat for sooo long that when I finally get this whole eating disorder/weight thing figured out once and for all, I want to have a pretty face to go along with the healthier body. Just like everyone else around here I'm vain enough to feel the tick of time and the same pressure everyone else feels, in this creative industry I've been avoiding, to do whatever I can to stave off the toll it has taken on my skin.
I even had my old companion, my "beauty mark," removed yesterday. I've had this mole all of my life and now it's gone, which is so weird. It was on the upper left side of my face, above my cheekbone. I used to put brown eye pencil on it to make it stand out, and even considered having a tattoo artist darken it for me, but another dermatologist had warned me not to years ago. My Mom used to love it but as I got older, and it faded and puffed up a bit, she started to pressure and nag me to have it removed. When Scott recently said something to me about it, that pretty much did it for me, so I figured that as long as I was going to see the dermatologist about my burns and acne I might as well ask her about my old pal, the mole. She thought I should have it removed just for safety sake, and her brother, the successful surgeon, thought I would look better without it.
It was kind of a big deal, which I wasn't expecting at all, since I've seen people having moles removed, but I had to go into an operating room, lay on a table, get six injections right into the mole, lay there waiting for the medication to take affect, have my face swabbed and draped, then listen to the sound of scissors and a scalpel cutting it out, (and let me tell you how weird that is, feeling a kind of numbed tugging at your skin while hearing the sound scissors make when they try to work their way through something, fwisk, fwisk, fwisk), all the while trying to be my usual friendly comedic self. As long as I can make people laugh, then pretty much anything is tolerable. And I suppose if I can give birth to a seven pound seven ounce baby without any kind of pain medication, and have my stomach and intestines rearranged, to say nothing of spinning around at night on the freeway, then I guess I can handle having a chunk of skin cut out of my face, and then having it sewed back together again.
Here's a funny bit of news; my car, my poor, smashed up, nondriveable car, disappeared from in front of my house yesterday. When we left for the dermatologist at one-thirty it was there. When we came back at five-thirty it was gone. I assumed that my insurance company had made a mistake and come one day earlier than planned, until an enormous red flatbed tow truck showed up today. This big sweaty bald guy got out, wiped the sweat off his head with a bandana and said, "Where's your car?" To which all I could reply was, "Don't you have it?" Now I have to wait until tomorrow to try to piece this whole thing together. Either someone else from my insurance company sent out a separate tow order, which is highly unlikely, Ford came and got it, also unlikely, someone stole it, extremely unlikely, or one of my mean uptight neighbors, tired of seeing the damned thing sitting in front of my house for two weeks, called the cops and had it towed away, very likely.
After this happened I just kind of gave up and refused to try to track it down. I've honestly had enough. Uncle! Uncle! Uncle! I am not going to tangle with the forces of Mercury being in retrograde any more. Tomorrow it goes direct and I can wait until then to do anything that involves communicating with anyone, other than all of you.
How does time go by this quickly? I honestly don't get it. One minute you're depressed about things that don't seem worth being depressed about, when compared with what happens in the next moment when you find yourself spinning around in an enormous car on one of the busiest freeways in the world, and then suddenly weeks have gone by, your wounds are healing, and you're about to buy a new car. (What should I get? I want another SUV, a Toyota hybrid, a Lexus, used, new, buy or lease?) I even got a new computer yesterday to replace the one that was smashed in the wreck, and the prospect of having to move everything from my old laptop to the new one feels, well, intimidating. It's all happening so fast I feel as if I can't catch up with it. At least Ruby is still alive and appears to be doing better, thank you for healing her with your hearts.
I'm hoping that this heat wave will be lifting since the last couple of days have been more tolerable, almost pleasant even. We've had a few power outages here which always serve to remind me of how super dependent I am on things that require electricity. Even our fish depend on electricity to keep their tanks clean and aerated. The cats don't seem to mind all that much, they just move away and lay flatter. The rabbits need bottles of frozen water to lay beside and careful monitoring, and the poor dogs get hosed off frequently, and spend their days laying in shade.
Well, there's always more, but I've written too much as it is, so I think I'll leave it at this.
I've been trying like mad to write back to everyone who took the time to write to me but I just can't seem to catch up, so I hope you'll forgive me and know how very much I appreciate your kind and generous comments. I am very, very grateful for your companionship and friendship.
Big hugs from your mole missing friend,