I just woke up. This is so unbelievably early for me. When I was younger and had to work, the one thing I hated most, other than feeling like I was a slave for someone else, was having to get up early. I had one job where I had to get up at four and drive an hour to work. That was hell, but it didn't last long because my husband couldn't hack it and got fired pretty early, so I quit along with him. I couldn't do it alone, no way.
Beau's school holiday-play is this morning. You know how much I love him but I wish I could get out of it. I've instituted a rule for my life now which might sound very louche to some of you, but it's a kind of life or death thing for me; I don't make any kind of appointment or commitment before twelve. Beau needing his Mom to see him sing the Twelve Days of Christmas is the extremely rare exception. I don't sleep well, and I get my best sleeping done in the early morning hours. I have Interstitial Cystitis and am pretty certain I have Fibromyalgia, both of which make it hard to sleep steadily at night.
My therapist/pal Susan sees this amazing man who is a kind of gifted faith healer. I looove my therapist! She is the kindest, sweetest, most loving and supportive person I have ever known. I wish there were an unlimited supply of Susans in the world. She's so much fun to be around, a real joy being. She tells me that I'm one of the most unique people she's ever met, which is music to my anticonformist soul, but she's the one who collects Pez and snowdomes. She has a giant blow up Christmas tree with Velcro ornaments. Her bathroom is an aquarium with fish everywhere and she painted her dining room to look like a fifties diner and glued fake burgers and fries to the walls. I could go on and on about her, but for now I'll just tell you that no one could ask for a better sister, daughter or friend. Well, that wouldn't be fair to all the other good people out there, so I'll just modify that to saying she's way up there in the firmament of goodness.
So, she's been seeing this man and has been telling me about him for months. Initially I was a bit leery. I want so badly to believe in the possibility of there being magic and miracles in the world. I mean I do believe in these things, but I also have a cynical practical side. I wouldn't be my mother's daughter if I didn't. I was going to say, father's daughter, but he started hearing his dead mother singing to him about twenty years ago and now he talks to ghosts so that pretty much rules him out. I've heard some pretty amazing stories about him and I've been steeling my nerve to go for some time now. Then the other day I opened the Star magazine and there was a picture of Goldie Hawn coming out of his house. I don't know why that would lend him legitimacy in my eyes and I'm embarrassed to write this, but somehow it did. Or, well, it made me realize that he's developing a rapidly expanding circle of people who come to see him so I'd better hurry before its too late.
I called and asked if he would see me. He wanted to know who referred me and what I need help with. Apparently he had a near death experience when he was a little boy and came back with these gifts; the ability to heal people with his touch, and powerful psychic and intuitive abilities. I would think it was all bogus, like those assholes who do psychic surgery and pretend to open people up but are really just cracking little blood capsules and pulling bits of chicken out, if it weren't for the stories I've heard and my friend's faith in him. So I'll give it a shot but I'm a little bit afraid. I hate gurus and I've been avoiding this chiropractor in Malibu that people have been raving about for ages, for this very reason. Oh well, I'll let you know how it goes.
I met a cute couple, Ernie and Bertha, (their names sound made up to me for some reason) at a nail salon, Snow Nails, that I went to in the valley today. They must have been in their sixties, and she can't drive so he takes her everywhere. He told me that he's, Driving Miss Daisy. I don't know, they were just so cute. We had the best conversation. We talked about everything, from Robert Downey Junior and my nude bar, to how sad they were when Al Gore lost, and a guy named Long who's really good at getting out ingrown toenails. I really love people sometimes. I don't think I could explain why I liked them so much, it's just they were so full of happiness and life and were quirky in the sweetest possible way.
I had lunch-dinner, linner, at a Numero Uno Pizza restaurant next door. I was the only person there and they were watching Jerry Springer on the TV. I turned it up a notch and a couple of the waiters came out of the kitchen and we were all having fun debating in Spanish about whether this person on the show was a guy or a gal. Which reminds me of Beau yesterday not knowing whether his classmate was a girl or a boy. "Well, her name is Lacey and everyone says it's a girl, but I'm not sure." Poor Lacey.
I like my weekly jaunt to the valley because I get to go places I've never been before. LA is pretty insular in some ways. Well, my neighborhood is. I run my little maze over and over again and that's about it. I don't like to go very far, except when I have to. I'm really a small town gal and someday I'm going to have to make that real for myself. It's hard to thrive in a city like this when you're a little green plant that craves oxygen and room to grow. It's too congested, speedy and stressful here. I live in this tiny little pocket of houses, but the freeway is close enough to toss a pebble at and I can hear it at night. Not that I mind it all that much, in some ways it's comforting. I'm never really alone as long as I can hear that freeway and some people say it's like a great big ionizer, like a waterfall, a noxious waterfall though.
I'm eating caramel corn. I hate how popcorn gets stuck in your teeth. You should see how cute my rats are when I give them a piece. They get gleeful and roll it around in their little ratty hands. It looks like they're holding a big puffy caramel coated volleyball. I think I'll give them one as a treat. I gave them each one yesterday. My ferrets are soo stinky, I have to clean their cage again and give them baths. You can't clean their cage often enough. Sometimes it smells so bad in here my eyes sting and I have to spray orange air mist around. The smell is the biggest drawback to having ferrets, but they are the cutest little creatures. I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing them do their little bunch up and jump jump run and tumble thing.
Somnambulance. I'm a sleepwalker. Well, not a sleepwalker exactly, but I do things in my sleep. I hand things to people and talk and move. When I woke up this morning I was moving things around on Beau's night stand. (I fell asleep with him last night.) It was so weird because I was dreaming and then I opened my eyes and looked at my arms and saw that they were doing things. I can't remember what the dream was about. I wonder whatever happened to that man who murdered his wife, stabbed her and drowned her, cleaned everything up, left her in the pool, and then changed his clothes and went back to bed. He claimed he did all that in his sleep. Remind me not to sleep with anyone like that okay?
I have so many Ebay bills to pay, and I am determined to send out Christmas cards this year, but I'm being my usual demanding perfectionistic self about it as usual. I bought the cards, but I don't want to send them until I make a really great collage to glue inside.
I hate that I didn't save a copy of my interests before it got edited down. I really liked my interests list. Boo.