How was your day, Dan?

SECURITY

How Mom gets through security at the airport:

Approach security ropes, which wind several times up to metal detector.

See guard positioned at first bend in the security ropes.  Wave "hello" to the guard, who does not reply.

Drop handle to wheelie-suitcase and throw arms around son in a bear hug.

Say goodbyes.  (Sob!)

Detach from son. Take deep breath. Throw arms around him again.  Detatch again, and pick up suitcase handle. Take deep breath.

Walk down path to guard.

Turn around half-way and wave to son.

Walk rest of way to guard, who mentions the maximum number of carry-ons allowed is 2.  Present bag count, with purse and gifts: 5.

Drop bags on floor, unzip, and proceed to rearrange/consolidate contents--while crouched in corner of security path.  Smile and wave other passengers past.

Take out shoes that would look cuter with present outfit. 

Sit down on suitcase; pull on socks and newly-chosen shoes.

Stand up, grab suitcases, and proceed down path.  At next turn, pause and start to cry again. Wave.

Continue walking.  Clip security stanchion with wheelie-suitcase, and drag rope down path.

Oops! Detach from ropes.  Turn around. Wave.

Walk up to X-ray machine. Place items on belt.  Turn around. Wave.

Walk through scanner. Turn around, successfully scanned. Wave.

Collect items from X-ray machine.  Stand on tippy-toes, to look above group of businessmen.  Wave.

Chat with group of businessmen.  Point at son, who is still watching.  Wave.

Walk around corner. Look through crowd, one last time.  Spot son, still standing there watching.  Start crying again. Wave.

Finally walk down concourse, slowly, waving. Pass corner, out of sight.

(pause)

Pop head back around corner, for one last encore look.  Of course.  Spot son still standing there, waiting for that encore.  Smile through the tears.  Wave.

CLEANING OUT THE CELL PHONE PICS

An assortment of moments that seemed important enough at the time to photograph:

(click on photos to enlarge, if you wish)

 

This man stopped me on Lincoln Road when I had the latest batch of pups out for our evening stroll (I stroll, they get carried most of the way).  That's his pet lemur, who was wearing a blue diaper.  Lemurs are a somewhat common pet in Miami, for some reason unbeknownst to me. 

But wait, there's more to be found!

BLAH

It's almost midnight as I type this, which means the day is almost over.  I shall soon crawl into my whitest-white sheets, catch a "Golden Girls" rerun, and sleep this day away.  What a hellacious testament to craptasticness today has been, I won't shed a tear when sending it away.  Car: dead.  Work: job cancelled, no money.  Boss: spoke condescendingly, and therefore got yelled (by me) in return, not good.  Dinner plans: cancelled.  So, dinner was half a bag of pita chips with hummus, whilst sitting upon my couch.  When I saw a commercial for plastic surgery (those commercials run constantly in Miami, the land where everyone wants to have fake plastic faces just like Kim Kardashian) I realized I had been frowning, for no reason.

So I'll take this moment to update you on cheerier news in my neighborhood, instead of lolling about in my doldrums.

After a brief hiatus of staying inside away from the heat, the elderly Cuban man next door has once again reclaimed his seat in front of his building, where he pleasantly watches the world go by.  His leathery skin offsets his mop of thick, shiny-white hair that is always tossed around in a mess on top of his head.  I started keeping track of him several months ago, when apparently one of his friends was in cosmetology school and was using him as a model during the "hair coloring" section of the class; the poor guy's hair changed every week, from brown to black to brass to a very unfortunate shade of blue.  I presume some of those colors were mistakes.  But he didn't care, he sat out on the porch anyway.  And he's back to white now.  

For three years, I never heard him speak.  Then about a year ago he saw me with puppies and he wobbled to his feet, stumbled across the driveway with his wrinkled hands in front of him, and clasped his fingers, knuckles mangled with arthritis, around one of the puppies'  snouts as he gave it kisses kisses kisses.  Between kisses he cooed and whispered "The puppies, the puppies," but with his accent he pronounced it "The poopies, the poopies," and I thought You're not kidding, I clean it up constantly.   So now, every time he sees me on the street, he yells "Where are the poopies?!", and I tell him No puppies today, maybe another day.   And he responds, "Ah, I love them so much, the babies they so beauuuuuutiful..." 

Look at that, I found something to appreciate from today. Perspective: changed.

TV SHOW CLUB: MAD MEN

Let's discuss "Mad Men."  

--There is a huge story lurking with Don's daughter, Sally.  Can't you feel it?  When kids do inexplicable things, there is usually something inconceivable behind the events.  Sally freaked out in Don's office, because she didn't want to go home with her mother.  Is this just abandonment after Don moved out?  My guess is, Betty's new husband is molesting Sally.  This would make sense if Betty is also dealing with the memories of having the same thing happen to her by her own father. (I've re-thought this idea and  changed my mind. I still think something traumatic happened to Sally, but the problem isn't Betty's new husband. Hmm...)

--This episode is all about the prejudice women suffered (and still do) in the form of sexism: Joan has problems, Peggy has problems but at least she has the guts to talk about them, and Don's new girlfriend in the office (what's her name?) feels guilt for not playing the traditional "female" role.  When Mrs. Blankenship's dies, her life is seen as a waste because she spent it answering phones for other people.  Although I'd bet Mrs. Blankenship was happy; no one ever took the time to ask.  So in their pity, really her "friends" were the ones who were looking down on her. 

---The sexism goes both ways--when the stranger from the train brought Sally to the office, she scolded Don by saying "Men never know what's going on," or something to that effect, I don't remember the exact words. I love that they put this into the episode about sexism.   Women weren't the only victims of mid-century gender roles; men were expected to stay out of the home and work, provide money for their families but not be directly involved in raising their children.  It was (and still is) just as emotionally damaging as what women suffered.  But because men were given more professional opportunities, they weren't (and aren't) seen as having any problems.

Maybe if Don was allowed to be more involved in his daughter's life, and allowed himself to be more involved, he would see something was going on with Sally.  I'm just sayin'.

----After seeing January Jones on "Project Runway," where she was so boring, I am now not so impressed with her performance as Betty.  I always thought she was giving a really restrained, intense portrayal; but maybe she really just is like that?...

SHOWER IN THE DARK, and BABY TURTLES

It's been big exciting times 'round these parts, yes it has.  People visiting from out of town, new classes to teach, reading on the internet how to fix my car because it won't go over 60 mph. (Anyone know about Toyota Celicas?)   I barely had time to sit down and read Patti LuPone's autobiography, although I finally carved out a few delicious minutes to indulge in the tasty tome--and let me tell you, if you have ever been involved in any sort of theater, please please read this book.  Patti LuPone is, quite possibly, completely nuts.  And I mean that in the most flattering way.  Scandal!  Slander!  Sunset Boulevard salaciousness!  This book has more drama than anything that ever happened on a stage. If you aren't into theater, you won't care about all the dish she's serving up chapter after chapter, so don't bother.  I, however, loooooved it.

Anyway--

Some long-lost friends showed up in Miami this weekend, and I played host while taking them on a tour around town.  I'm a certified Miami tours guide, you know.  I have all sorts of tricks in my magic hat. Sights, history, secret food stops, we did it all. 

Although nothing I had planned was as exciting as the events my friend stumbled upon in Ft. Lauderdale: it's sea turtle hatching season, and yesterday a nest sprung to life with the arrival of lots of the little darlings decked out in their new shells.  Watch the adorable fun here. (You must log into Facebook to watch this video.) 

Turtle hatching is big news in South Florida--the little nuggets are critically endangered, and the mothers lay their eggs in the busiest stretches of tourist beaches.  So when they do choose a spot to dig a nest, the local police surround it with yellow Caution tape and volunteers sit on chairs to guard the nests from idiots who might drunkenly stumble on the eggs, or try to steal an egg for fun.  Turtle watching is mostly a pastime of wealthy locals, who pop open bottles of chardonnay and get loaded as they sit on beach chairs guarding the nests all night.

But then, if you're lucky, the eggs will hatch on your watch, and it's up to you to chase away marauding seagulls as the little cuties flop their way through the sand to the wild blue yonder.  And the hatching usually happens in the middle of the night, which means packs of drunken rich people are sometimes seen hopping around on the sand, in the moonlight, trying their best to run alongside the baby turtles without accidentally stepping on the baby turtles, and also trying their hardest to not scream and scare the poor little things back into their egg shells.  If "watching sea turtle nests" isn't on "Stuff White People Like," it should be.

Anyway--

So the turtles are on their way, my LA friends are on their way back to their hotel, and I ended my night with a slow shower to rinse the salt off my skin after bringing my aforementioned friends to the beach this afternoon.  I shower in the dark because my light switch is broken.  I could call the landlord to fix it, but...I haven't. And yet I wonder why no one wants to spend time in my apartment.

WAITING

8:30 a.m.--Wake up.  Look at cell phone, check the date.  It's been three days.  I'm going to make the call today.

8:31--Decide it's too early to call.  We mustn't seem weird by calling in the morning. Perhaps, after 12 p.m.?  Yes.  Let's wait.

8:40--Jump out of bed, make breakfast shake, pour breakfast shake into big glass, 

8:45--Sit down in front of TV to drink breakfast shake.

8:48--Look at cell phone, check the time.  This day is going to take forever.

10:00--Take shower, notice grime in tub, scrub tub with Comet while in the shower.

10:40--Oh forget it, I'm just watching TV until 12 o'clock rolls around.

11:20--What the hell is this "Whatever" show on Hallmark Channel?  They talk soooooo slowly, and take so many pauses between sentences.  There is zero comedic timing.  They look like nervous wrecks.  I cannot change the channel and must watch this mess.

12:01--It's no longer morning. Dial number.

12:02--No answer.  Presume, of course, my call is being screened.  Leave message, not too long and reasonably friendly, and extend invitation to call back later today?...then hang up.

12:03--Why do we still say "hang up"?  We're not hanging up anything anymore.  We've changed terms for everything else due to technology, yet ending a phone call is still "hanging up."  I must contemplate this.  Perhaps I'll conduct a Google search.

12:15--Get dressed.

12:17--That didn't take long.

12:18--How have I lived all this time with my shoes piled up like this?  They must be completely reorganized.

1:15--Closet cleaned, swept, sprayed with bug spray. Shoe area now looks so good, I may never wear these shoes again for fear of disturbing the organization. 

1:20--Reward self with peanut butter sandwich, and two cookies.  Okay, six cookies, don't judge.

2:30--These kitchen cabinets are a mess!  They must be complete reorganized.

3:15--Check phone for calls that I may have missed, even though the ringer is on the loudest setting.  None.  

4:20--Proceed to watch the entire list of "Very Mary-Kate" videos.  Some are funnier than others, but "Bodyguard" is LOL.

5:07--Phone rings.  Almost pull a muscle diving for it.  But it's just my friend, wondering where I am; explain to friend, ahem, that I must wait for a phone call and cannot be disturbed.  Friend says she understands, but states in an non-judgmental manner that with the invention of the cell phone, it made phones inherently portable and therefore waiting at home for the phone to ring may not be necessary?...good point.  Doesn't matter, I'm waiting here.

5:15--Friend drags my pale, almost-agorophobic self out into the daylight.  The cell phone can come with.

8:00--After returning home, refrigerator has been cleaned; leftovers found amongst the refrigerator detrius, and consumed; kitchen floors, counters, everything has been scrubbed.  No call for an impromptu dinner, just a hello, nothing.  

8:05--Oh thank God "America's Next Top Model" is on.  That's something to do for the next hour.

9:00--I love the sky runway!  Too bad none of the girls freaked out.  Obviously Kendal is going to win.

10:30--Send email.  Perhaps he just didn't get the phone message?...damn it, of course he did. (sigh)

11:15--What happened here?  No call, no response, nothing.  If there's no call today, then there's no call coming at all.  Get into bed, watch re-runs of "The Golden Girls."  Dorothy understands my anguish.

12:00 a.m.--Check email one more time.  No message from him, as expected.  But there is one from a friend, who knows the perfect guy and would be a great match.

12:01--Respond to friend.  Formulate plan to meet this new person without any pressure of being "set up."  Log off computer.  Contemplate this process, started over.  Again.

SEPTEMBER MOURN

The latest round of foster puppies went back today.  Neither my heart, nor my kitchen tile, will ever be the same.  So sad to see them go.

    (click to enlarge!)

The puppy in the left photo (also on the right in the right photo) lived to be held and carried everywhere, and immediately went limp against anyone's neck who held him.  The other puppy, who I believe is part Chow, is much more independent, prefers to sit next to you instead of on your lap.  But he loved to be pet, which is good because his fur is the densest, softest substance on Earth.  I spent hours watching TV, petting petting petting him.

It was fun having them around.  They're healthy now, off to be adopted, gone.  NEXT.

PS: If you don't understand this post title's play on Neil Diamond, you need to listen to his music more.

MISS SINERGY

I'm putting the "sin" in Miss Sinergy:

I am hosting a real-life, bona fide, crown-and-sashes beauty pageant. That's one more item crossed off the Bucket List, thank you.

Should I sing a song?  Should I perform my own production number?  I'll need to hire some back-up dancers.

I am so excited I could die.   The pageant takes place at the Swedish Embassy, which has a beautiful event space decorated in the finest Scandinavian design, my favorite.  But who has time to pay attention to the decor when there is so much drama happening on the stage?!?  I hope the contestants don't spike each others' cosmetics with itching powder or something awful.  Not that I'm suggesting I would do that, just to make the pageant more interesting.

If you need to find me, I'll be in my closet for the next 6 weeks, planning what I'm going to wear.  Hopefully the other contestants won't wear sequins, because I plan on covering myself in sparkle from head to toe.  I'd hate to embarrass them by wearing similar ensembles but looking better.

GOING THE DISTANCE, aka LONG-DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS

 

The time: last night.

The place: my local movie theater.

I joined some friends in an evening of merry-making, including a stop at the local cinema to partake in "Going the Distance," starring Drew Barrymore and her real-life beau Justin Long. Delightful movie, it is, much better than I anticipated.  The synopsis: Drew and Justin are lovebirds struggling to get ahead in the world, she in San Francisco and he in NYC; and although they desire to live with each other in the same city, neither can find work in the other's location.  Hence, a long-distance relationship ensues, foibles and all.

This is, first and foremost, a chick-flick--heavy on the talk, with dollops of romance here and there.  Although at times, it seems the script is abandoned for improvised vignettes where the actors just have fun telling jokes (i.e., Drew brazenly cracks a few one-liners about the proper way for a man to perform oral sex).  But eventually the script takes over and the story moves swiftly along, until the will-they-or-won't-they ending that really is engrossing.  Well done, I say, and it gets you in the mood for some lovin'...even if it is unfeasible long-distance lovin' with much heartbreak and angst.

~

There was the college baseball player in Las Vegas, whom I met when I was on vacation there.  We met during an awkward introduction when I did not understand why he was talking to me, because I thought he was there with his girlfriend. But I just stared at his long eyelashes, which were hidden beneath his baseball cap and whiffed the air every time he blinked.  Eventually we left that bar, our awkward conversations became easier, and I extended my trip a few days to stay at his apartment.  His posters of Pamela Anderson both confused me and made me feel very inadequate.

At the time I lived in L.A., so bouncing back-and-forth between the cities was easy, and he miraculously was patient enough with the situation to make things work out for a while. But I couldn't get over the fact that this guy, so completely out of my league, was actually speaking to me in the first place; I believed he was talking to me just because he had no one better to be with.  Meanwhile, he was just a typical man, very simple and straight-forward, and completely free of any ulterior motives, except when we were together and he would tell me whatever he needed to say to get laid. It didn't take much.

He had a good job in Las Vegas, and I was doing nothing of interest in L.A.—not that most people do in that city—so the question was for me to move there.  But I couldn't bring myself to make the move, I never even considered it!, because I knew he'd change his mind about me once I was actually there.  So my nerves completely killed the entire relationship when I stopped calling him before he had a chance to stop calling me.  Stupid.

You're not supposed to move for a relationship, as the wise folks say.  But a relationship is just as much a part of your life as a career is, you need to work at both.  There have been a few guys I've let slip away—there was the guy in New York who looked like Matt Dillon, and had a bit of ADD that made it stressful for him to sit still, so he'd occupy his hands by rubbing my feet.  He's another one I let go because I didn't think he really wanted to be with me.  I have no idea where he went.  There was the Mr. Big guy, also in New York, who actually asked me to move, but I said no.  I don't remember the reason I gave him, I'm sure it was pathetic.  He is now married to some guy, in Massachusetts. And there was that baseball player in Las Vegas, whom the last I heard of him had another boyfriend, a tall, lanky guy with wavy brown hair and light skin.  Great.

So now that I'm "ready," it isn't necessarily melodramatic to consider the fact that I may have missed my chance.  There is a reason most people are involved when they are young.  Yes 50% of relationships end in divorce blah blah blah, but I don't really believe that statistic, judging by the people around me. 

~~

After the movie, I came home, ate ice cream, and joined Match.com.  If I'm going to have kids, I need to start moving ahead with this situation.  Operation: Husband Hunt is now engaged. 

CHICO'S

Hello?
"Hi Danny!"

Hi Mom.

"Hey, can I call you back in a little bit? I'm walking into Chico's."

(pause)

If you can't talk, then why did you just call me?

"I'm going into Chico's and I got excited so I didn't realize I can't talk. I'll call you back."

You need to call me back soon, I'm leaving in a little while.

"Where ya goin?"

I'm going to a party.

"You're always going to parties."

Not really...you usually call me on Friday and Saturday nights.

"Well I want to make sure you're going out and having fun!"

I am.

"If you're going to a party, who is going to take care of the puppies?"

They are fine on their own for a few hours.  They just sleep.

"But when you come home, do they wake up and think it's time to play?"

They always think it's time to play.  But today we ran around a lot so they're tired.  Now we're sitting on the couch watching television.

"That sounds like so much fun! I want to sit on the couch and watch television with the puppies."

Yes it's fun. I don't want to get up, I'd rather stay home.

"No, you need to go to your party. Do you have a date?"

No.

"Why not?"

(pause)

Weren't you hanging up? I thought you have to go to Chico's.

"Oh my gosh! You're right.  I have to go.  They're having a sale."

I'll talk to you later.  Happy shopping.

"Call me tomorrow. I want to hear about your party. Love you!"