Thursday, April 28, 2005


I don't have time to write a freshie today so I'm going to cheat and post an e-mail exchange between my friend M. and I. We share a love of cheesy reality TV which means that last night was a virtual smorgasborg of televised velveeta which prompted her to send me this missive:


First Michele is voted off Model island and then Constantine??????????? A shocking week to be sure.

Michele with all her breakdown ("I'm going to wind up in a Looney bin") weirdness was so much more interesting than the black chick. What's her name? Kenya? Kendra? Whatever. I don't like her. She's a boring bitch. And now she's apparently a boring fat bitch. Michele was interesting. There was the constant trepidation as to whether or not she would completely crack. There was the constant wonder as to when she would get a root touch-up! Have I mentioned how much I really hate the gawky, bad-skinned, rude, goofball thing...what's her name? The one with the lips. I fucking hate her. I'm afraid she is going to win, too. I think the final three will be the Goofball, Naima, and um...the mousey one.

Moving on. Okay I know you hated Constantine but were you surprised he was voted off over the pig-faced Scott Savol?! I WAS!!!!!!!! I mean Constantine has tons of women fans. But then America is very fat now so I guess all the fatties voted for Scott. Jeese. We have Rueben. Isn't that enough? I can't help but think that Constantine will get signed immediately. Scott needs to go. I seriously can't stand him anymore. I also can't stand Carrie. However the final will probably come down to Carrie and Bo. Carrie is just nothing. There is nothing remotely unique about her. She is any blond. She is Generic Plain Wrap Girl.

Voting off Constantine should mean more votes for Bo. Let the Rockers unite. But Simon is right. Bo (and Constantine) went over to the cheesy side. How can other rockers take him seriously now? We shall see. As the Idol turns...

And I in turn responded:


I wanted the girls to push Britney (stripper name, porno face, loud mouthed, rude bitch) off the golf cart as the lions chased them back into the compound (like that totally happened). She's beyond annoying and she reminds me of L**** - I need all the attention, all the time - F****. Keenyah will go next I do believe because although she takes rocking photos she's not following the Top Model binge and purge diet. It's fine to hork down those carbs girl, you just got to throw'em back up so that Tyra and her mama can come and yell at you with love. I think the final three will be Naima - who ultimately won't win because she's been identified as the "boring" one like Nicole, or was that Noelle? from last season. Kahlen - the mousy one who looks like Cheryl Tiegs and has no personality but can take good photos and run like a Springbok in high heels, and Christina who should be taking much better pictures from here on out, now that she's learned the kleenex under the upper lip trick. Note to self, must try that the next time photo op arises.

Next to go will be Britney, followed by Keenya. Or vice versa.

As for Idol, well I stopped watching after they voted off Nadia Turner - assholes. I was surprised to hear that Constantine was voted off, but also wondering if it isn't somehow rigged because you know his band - something something Betty - was signed last week by the same record company that signed William Hung. And I'm wondering if Constantine is going to be conflicted now because his American Idol contract stipulates that he has to tour with these bozos for a year. I think if you you have to do that if you make it into the top 12, or ten, or whatever, which is why that cute gay boy with the fedora whose name I've already forgotten wanted out. Personally I'm rooting for Scott Savol because at this point I think he's the guy that America truly deserves for their idol - a bald, fat, domestic abuser who looks like a scary serial killer and talks to God like he was raised in the ghetto and never learned proper English.

But can we talk host action?

How about Janice sticking her tongue down Tyra's throat to illustrate passion. And THEN she knocked her to the floor and her dress went up over her bony ass necessitating blurriness! Is it because she doesn't wear underpants or was there cellulite that we shouldn't see. And how about Nigel "Maybe I can get in on this action," Barker. God he's hot. Like a grilled cheese sandwich. I love Janice too! I cannot wait to see her on the Surreal Life going toe to toe, or tongue to tongue, with Omarosa!!!

And Paula clutching her pearls and holding back sobs as Constantine is voted off and WHY GOD WHY? HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN? Because it just does Paula. It just does.

Although I'm fighting it the upcoming Kevin and Britney is drawing me in like a moth to a bug zapper hanging from the trailer in a Louisiana swamp.

I'm going over to the dark side I can totally tell.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005


Sheila posted today about people who posture when commenting on other people’s blogs. I haven’t experienced that because I don’t have comments, posturing by total strangers would be just one more reason why I don’t want comments. Not that I ever write stuff that people could posture on. Or would that be over? There are people who blog who amaze and awe me with their level of knowledge and their passion for the subjects that they love. Sheila loves American history and Cary Grant and Humphrey Bogart and theatre and Ireland and she writes amazingly about all of those things, but what I love best is diary Friday when she shares a diary entry that she wrote when she in her early teens. Her voice then, as now is so much her very own. She has a keen eye for detail and context and a wonderful sense of self.

Today at the end of the post on “posturing commenters” which was really a reference to a post written by another person that I didn’t have time to read because, oh yeah! I’m supposed to be writing, she mentioned that this same guy had brought up the concept of embracing the lame. The lame being those things that you love that society would consider you lame for loving. Society being I’m not sure who exactly, but you know who I’m talking about, it’s basically that same group of people from high school who were the social arbiters of cool, which therefore made them the force that identified what is not cool, e.g. what is lame. They’re the group that James Spader hung out with in those John Hughes films, only now they’re grown up lemmings instead of adolescent ones.

They are the same people that populate parties where all the beautiful people are, parties that in my experience are so completely boring because everyone is so busy being cool they aren’t having any fun. They are so worried about what people are saying about them that they don’t say or do anything real. They are the people who like to make others feel less than so that they might feel better about themselves. They are the Paris Hilton’s of the world dancing on top of the bar with no underwear on because “that’s hot.”

You know who you are.

In any case there are so many things that I love that these people would consider lame, uncool and just plain gauche and if you love stuff like this we should party. And when I say love, I mean LOVE, without irony, because it makes you happy! Not because it’s hip to like old Aerosmith t-shirts now that they sell them at Kitson.

Stuff like:

Disco and all the fabulous polyester fashion that went with it, including roller disco at Flippers!

Kaptain Crunch cereal.

Lava lamps and incense.

Tom Jones who was my first human crush. I would just stand and squeal during his TV variety show when I was a very small child. Before him it was all about Mighty Mouse.

Banana Rama, Boy George, Duran Duran, etc.

Mirrored sunglasses!

Chef Boy-R-Dee spaghettios/Kraft macaroni and cheese and Swanson TV dinners, and this is mostly in theory because I haven’t actually ingested any of these things in a really long time, but the memory makes me really happy.



Shirley Temple – the drink and the movies.

Romance novels – the bodice rippers which feature Fabio type guys on the cover and have the most awesome euphemisms for all kinds of sexual activities. And excellent villains.

Neil Diamond – Hot August Night.

Lynrd Skynrd – Freebird

Cowboys and rodeos

Chinese martial arts movies.

The Renaissance Pleasure Faire

Monopoly, Sorry, Uno, Life


Ice skating competitions with Dick Buttons as the commentator.

Hoola Hoops and slinkys

Mad libs

Polished rocks

Lip smackers roll on lipgloss – favorite flavor? Bubblegum.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005


Yesterday I was driving to the doctor's office and as I drove I was thinking about the rewrite I'm doing. Because I'm pretty much always thinking about it no matter what I'm doing. As I crossed the intersection heading toward the freeway a white Prius driving next to me signaled that it wanted to get into my lane then proceeded to do so. I slowed to allow the driver to move into the lane in front of me and though to myself, "Wow, that guy's pretty confident, what if I was one of those assholes who speed up on purpose? He would've hit me!"

As we turned the corner and headed toward the onramp I went back to thinking about my script. Once on the freeway I'm cruising along and I become vaguely aware that the guy in the Prius is in the lane on the right waving frantically at me. Since that lane exits to Highland I figured he just wanted to get over again so I slowed to let him get in front of me, but now I'm thinking, "Whoa dude, do you just have no idea where you're at or do you seriously not know how to drive?" I'm also thinking that he was pretty cute from the brief glance I had before I stepped on the brakes to allow him into my lane.

I'm heading toward the exit and I hear "beep, beep, beep," coming up on my left and now I'm thinking he must be totally out of state because people just don't pull up and say thank you for letting me get in front of you on L.A. freeways. I look over smiling and waving and all of a sudden I recognize the guy! It's my friend Ray!! And he's laughing his ass off. I roll down my window and the following exchange takes place at 70 m.p.h. on the 101 South.

Ray: Hey dumbshit!
Me: Oh my God! What are you doing driving a Prius?
Ray: I cut you off twice trying to get your attention!
Me: Call me!

And I zoomed down the offramp. I got home later on to a message from Ray on my answering machine that said that he'd basically been following me since I left work. He'd cut me off twice, almost hit me, tried to call me on my cell phone (it's always off) and was driving the whole way down the freeway honking and waving and trying to get my attention.

And I just thought he was some guy who didn't know how to drive.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005


This weekend was a loooooong one, but in a good way. I was just really tired by the time it was over and my day off on Monday that was supposed to be a vacation day turned into a sick day when I woke up at 5am with a sore throat and a headache and was unable to get up and much at all.

I took A. to the airport on Saturday where he flew away around midnight for the next two and half weeks. The airport, especially the International terminal, has gotten very tense. He had really big suitcases and I wanted to drop him off right in front because with his back injury it’s not a good thing to shlep heavy very far. I tried to pull up right in front and this cop was screaming at me so I rolled down my window and screamed back, “Hold up officer! I need to drop off this guy and some very, very heavy luggage, where do you suggest I do that?” Thank God he wasn’t a complete ass and he directed me into the lovely length of empty curb right in front of the terminal and then stopped traffic so I could drive across to the parking structure. I blew him kisses as I drove past because as long as I get my own way, I’m a real pleasure to deal with. Hung with A. for an hour until he had to go board his flight. Neither one of us do that whole kissy face and tears goodbye, because it’s just a couple of weeks and he’s totally coming back. Right?

Sunday morning I got up after a few hours sleep and went down to pick up Ms. Cecilia who is five for our movie date. We were supposed to go see Robots, but Cathy who’d bagged on her in the first place slipped in and took her to see it first. So I got Ice Princess. Leisa and my darling Mia, who is six, came and met us there. Mia started out sitting next to me and then when she became aware of the bag of gummy bears that Cecelia had she moved to my lap and whispered, “Does Cecelia have some candy over there?” Candy is one of Mia’s primary food groups. Cecelia being the very sweet girl that she is said, “Yes, would you like to share? Here you go.” And Mia moved over to sit in the same seat with Cecelia so as to better share the giant bag of sugar. Leisa and I quite liked the movie, we both got misty at the end, and Cecelia announced that she’s going to be a professional figure skater. And a veterinarian.

After the movie we went to McDonald’s, also part of our special day out. Mia ordered a McFlurry which Leisa and I chowed on while she was playing on the habitrail that they have set up for children on the patio. Can you say YUM! After Leisa and Mia took off for their pre-arranged ice skating date with friends Cece and I fed the birds and laughed at all the fighting that was going on over our fries. She decided that she wanted to stop by the rink and see what the whole ice skating thing was all about so we did, because I am completely indulgent with other people’s children. She was quite taken with the little girls in their outfits doing their wobbly turns and left the rink totally sure that she would be committed to ice skating so her parents should buy her some boots and blades immediately.

Next we hit the mall because the Children’s Place is having a sale and it’s my favorite store. Like I wish they made the clothes in my size. Now I had asked Cece several times if she needed to use the bathroom because I am aware that 5 year olds have small bladders, but she kept saying no. So when we got to the mall and she said she had to go potty and the one in the mall was crowded I decided we should hurry up and get to a department store where the bathrooms are cleaner anyway.

We were riding up on the escalator and all of a sudden Cece shrieks, “I’m going to pee my pants.” Her face was contorted in such a way that I knew this wasn’t a warning, we were pretty much at DefCon Five. When she started screaming, “It’s happening, it’s happening,” all I could do was tell her to keep moving, my reasoning being that if you move quickly enough there will be no puddle. Thank God the ladies room was clearly visible at the top of the escalator and Cece was able to walk while squeezing her little legs together.

Once we got in the bathroom the tears started and the self castigation. Her, not me. I got her underpants off and put her on the pot and told her to go ahead and finish and she wailed that she was bad and I told her, “Nah, it happens to everyone. It happens to me all the time.” “Really,” she sobbed, “Yeah, because I get busy and I don’t take the time to stop and go and all of a sudden I’m ready to pee my pants. So I have to run really fast and sometimes I don’t quite make it. It’s no big thing.” “But my shoes are all wet.” “Yeah, but they’re Tevas and they’re made to get wet so we’re just going to wash them in the sink and rinse your panties out and I’ll put them in my purse and we’ll tie your sweater around your waist so that little wet spot doesn’t show on your skirt.

“I want to go home.”

So I got her all cleaned up and put back together and the tears stopped and we wandered around the store trying to find our way out. I wondered aloud if we should go check out the carousel since it was right there when we walked out the door. She moseyed along because all those painted horses were very pretty after all. I asked if she wanted to go for a ride. She didn’t know. Well, how about if we go down to the Children’s Place so I can see if they have that twirly skirt I wanted to get you and you can think about it and if you want to ride we’ll go on our way back.

So we did.

And she got two pairs of sunglasses – fabulous, two very cute dresses on sale, and a fabulous blouse that I truly covet. I thought about trying on the size 12 because some of these little girls are quite chubby so you never know, but the arms were too short. We left the mall, stopping to ride that carousel and get some candy, before I took her home.

The whole day was so much fun but I was completely exhausted from the emotional roller coaster. It amazes me how resilient children are if you only distract them from whatever is bumming them out with a little shopping therapy. I let her touch absolutely everything on those carts that they have in malls now. She was particularly fascinated by the cart 'o piercings and luckily for us there was a woman standing there with piercings galore so that I could explain to her exactly what the little dumbells with rhinestones on them were for. As we were leaving the mall Cecelia was walking along saying, “Hi! How are you today?” to everyone at her level which basically covered people sitting down or riding in strollers. We passed one elderly woman who was being pushed in a wheelchair and Cecelia went right up to her with a big smile, “Hi there!” and I wish I’d had a camera to take a picture of how that woman’s face lit up. Cecelia had just made her whole day. I was so proud to be in the company of someone who was spreading the joy and making people smile.

That night I was just about to fall asleep when A. called to say “Hi,” and to let me know that he had arrived and just hearing his voice made me smile. I'm happy I know him too.

Friday, April 08, 2005


I have attempted to post on this pukafka site everyday this week and I have been denied. And it's not like last week when I just couldn't get the damn thing to open. Oh no. It's only after I have written clear, coherent paragraphs of brilliance and pressed the post buttont that I get the "something's broken" message.

I need to start writing everything in a word doc and then copying and pasting so I don't lose all those jewels of wisdom, but I am inherently lazy and eternally optimistic that shit will work like it's supposed to. Of course at this point that's also the definition of crazy, you know when you keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.

So yesterday I was writing all about how knowing what the biggest major weakness in my script is just makes me more frustrated because this isn't something I can "figure out" - I have no idea what's driving my main character. That's a pretty important thing to know, and since I'm writing a drama it can't just be the old "I want to be happy" routine.

It's interesting because that has always been my stock answer when asked that age old question, "What do you want?" Or else I go visit fantasyland and want to win the lottery. Or maybe I go concret and want to be out of debt and able to buy a house and car and have health insurance. At various times in my life I have wanted different things. When I was in 7th grade all I wanted was for Paul Butler to like me. When I was eleven all I wanted was a horse. When I want something I tend to want it obssessively and I am aware that this gets in my way, or at least it has. Especially back in the days when all I wanted was to get high.

Last year I was doing some work with Joann and Martha - the very wise women who are my teachers - I cannot bullshit them and we got on the subject of "what do I want" and in the midst of all the tears and snot what came out was, "I want someone to love me so my life can start." And that felt so real and true that I started to cry harder. I mean golly that certainly puts the locus of control outside myself doesn't it?

And maybe that's why my main character is pretty much just reacting to all the drama in her life. Because she's waiting too. Unfortunately that's not much to drive the story on. Last night I put in a request with my subconsciouse to give me a clue, drop me a line, but then I laid there wakefully awaiting some kind of sign. I walked the lot, which is what D. does when he's cogitating a question like this.

I have faith that it will come, but I don't have the patience because I'd really like to finish this and move on to the next thing. It's all I can do not to put my head through my computer screen and if I press "post" and get that broken message again, I might just do that.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005


It seems I cannot escape the news coverage of the Pope's death. Or more specifically pictures of the Pope's dead body on tour. I am not Catholic and upon hearing that the poor man was finally making his transition I only felt gratitude that he would be released from what has been quite a painful existence. One which he suffered with great dignity. And I guess that's why he was the Pope because I would have been whinging and bitching and just generally being cranky.

Pope John Paul II, who I have just come to find out was born with a completely different name when he came into this world as a baby boy, held ideas that are quite different than mine about how life is, and what God is, but I think he did a really good job of being the figurehead for a religion that is clinging to the past. He did it with integrity and I always felt the love from him, even when he was saying stuff I didn't agree with.

Even when he was speaking out against the war in Iraq - a stand I totally agreed with - he still did it from a place of love. I like to think that when he died he was feeling all kinds of love, not only from all the people who were around him, taking care of him, but also from his God, because, you know that was pretty much his primary relationship. His most intimate relationship. I think it would be kind of lonely being the Pope because everyone reveres you, and is sort of in awe of you. It's hard to imagine the Pope hanging out playing poker and sipping whiskey with his pals.

I don't know if the Pope is allowed pals.

But it's kind of grossing me out that they're carrying his dead body around and people are lining up to go in and look at it. Like I said, I'm not Catholic, but it just seems kind of undignified and invasive. It's his body. He's done using it. He's not there anymore. Why remember him like that?

Even though I'm not Catholic I would rather remember him like this. Because he was the Pope for a long time and he had a vital life and it seems like those are the memories and images worth keeping. Even if you don't agree with someone, or understand what they believe, to see the positive is as it should be.

Monday, April 04, 2005


So my birthday celebratin' has been just wunnerful. I have eaten too much and not slept enough, and remember a while back when I wrote that A. wasn't that into me so why did he continue to e-mail and call? Well, over the last couple weeks it's become very clear that he IS that into me and I totally reciprocate and because I am too pooped to write a whole post, and I have to get my taxes done and to my accountant I'm just going to copy and past an e-mail update I sent to my darling Allison, although it's edited because I tell her absolutely everything and it's not all for public consumption.

Allison - this has never happened to me before. I have always liked sex, but this is really strange. You know how when you're with someone and you go out and you know you're going to go home and have sex? Or you get together to go out and you kiss and then it turns into making out and you end up having sex before you go out? But as far as sex there's always a beginning, a middle and an end?

This isn't like that.

This is like mating season at the zoo.

But with a LOT of conversation and hanging out. I think maybe it's because A. is doing treatment with a Chinese doctor for his ulcer and as part of the treatment he's not supposed to ejaculate. In fact, he's probably not supposed to have sex or delve into arousal at all. But he totally is and it's like what I imagine having sex with Sting must be like. And I'm like a dude in that once I get off I want to roll over and go to sleep, but because of the fact that he's not goal oriented when he touches me we get sucked in over and over. And it's okay for me not to finish because he doesn't and I have to say that just having sex is more fun when there's no pressure to get off. And because there's no pressure I end up getting off all the time.

Like five times yesterday.

And that was after staying up until four in the morning going to various and random parties.

I was out every night last week celebrating the birthday. A. showed up at the all girl chickfest dinner on Thursday with flowers and stayed until we were done, after which I followed him to his house and we danced to Sade singing Smooth Operator on vinyl and then we had lots of sex.

Friday I went home and got my tax stuff in order - that is the one thing that I must complete today - and then went with R. to the Arts and Crafts exhibit at LACMA. I gave him the Parker book which he loved and also tiled a six bottle wine rack that I've been carrying around in my trunk forever. I used earthtone tiles with one single red one and grouted it with gray. It was pretty cool although it wasn't prefect. None of my projects ever really are, but it's the thought that counts. We walked to the museum and then to dinner and we talked and talked. I told him it was really hard for me to see him with Lori when we went to the museum the week before and that no matter who else I love I will always love him. He said he felt that same way and that there was nothing going on between he and Lori which is good because she drinks A LOT. And Saturday night at his party if I'd had to listen to her say one more time, "I'm a mom," I would've slapped her. Thank God I wasn't standing there when she told A. that she wanted to leave, but the sex was so good.

I am totally falling for A. and there is definitely something going on between us, but I get very jealous when I think about R. with anyone else. Because I'm just like that. I was talking to A. about it because he's concerned about R. feeling weird about he and I and he said, "so you still have feelings for him." I said, yes, but not rational feelings. They just are what they are and it's easier if I just feel them and know they're not reality based, they're ego based. I think he got it.

So back to Saturday - A. called and said he'd been invited by some friends to a bbq and did I want to go before R's party. Sure. So I packed my party dress and put on bbq clothes and he picked me up and we went out to the valley for an hour or so, then we changed and went to R's party, got there about 9pm. Stayed until midnight and then went to this party that A's friend Fernando told him about. Fernando is from South America and he's one of those absolutely beautiful, sexual creatures that women go nuts for, until they know better. Which isn't to say that he's not lovely, and probably a great one night stand, but he's a playah.

So we get to this abandoned building in downtown L.A. and we're on the list as Fernando's guests and we go to the top of the stairs and we have to sign releases in case we're on camera. I just sign because what the heck, but in briefly perusing it I see that I am at Dr. Susan Block's institute. Now this is a woman that I occasionally catch when channel surfing, on cable access. I was actually pretty delighted to be at one of her wingdings, although it was so contrived there was nothing sexy about it. It felt like everyone was trying too hard to be all free and sexual and shit. It was actually kind of pathetic. But there was this one girl who was dancing in this long skirt with no top on and a mohawk and she was wearing black gloves and I swear I thought she had NO HANDS! I was completely mesmerized and a little freaked out, but then I saw that she had gloves on. A. and I had fun people watching and making up stories about what everyone did for their day job.

Then we went to his friend Darren's loft, also in downtown, in a building that A. had done all the electrical work in - that was cool to see - he does huge jobs, like high rises and office buildings. So we walk into this loft space and it's like walking into a weird sex/nightclub - only without the creepy sex vibe. Darren is a little guy who apparently has a ton of money because he had this huge computer and it's at what looked like a control center and he can project the screen on to the one wall that's not floor to ceiling windows. Which is behind the stage that is in his living room. When we arrived there was a short, chubby naked man with a crew cut wearing these wings made from pleated organza that had sticks at the ends which extended out from the arms so that the wings could be made to flutter. This girl Sara was also naked and dancing around with the wings. A couple other people were laying on Darren's bed which is a round platform that hangs from the ceiling and another girl in a platinum wig was laying in a vibrating massage chair which she was enjoying so much that her wig was askew.

I shot some very cool pictures with A's camera of the people with the wings. It got to be about 2:30 (we sprung ahead) and I had to take a little nap. When I sat up this woman in a fishnet body stocking was jumping on a trampoline and then Darren attached this nylon tube to the ceiling so that people could get in and move around for photographs. Next he put up the stripper pole which fishnet girl played on. While this felt less contrived it reminded me a lot of the olden days doing drugs and playing with all kinds of toys that my insanely wealthy druggy friends had. Only these people don't do drugs. They're just into being "sexual," but it didn't really feel like that to me. Maybe I was just too tired.

Or I'm just old and jaded and rather than seeing them as free and sexual I see them more as lost and looking for distraction. Or maybe they're just in their 20s? In any case, it's fun once in a while, but I was giving him shit because he commented that at R's party if you didn't want to talk about stereos or cars there wasn't much else going on in the way of conversation, and after we left Darren's I said, "well if you didn't want to talk about sex toys or do provocative naked modern dance, these people weren't offering up a lot in the way of real connection either, although it was definitely entertaining. It was a party and for some reason unless the gathering is intimate it's hard to make a connection - whether your subject is cars or sex toys.

We got home about 4am and even though we were both exhausted guess what we ended up doing again? He went and met his friend for coffee at 10am and then came back and although we got up and attempted to get going we never got out of the house and before we knew it it was like 5pm and we hadn't really eaten. He had to take me home so we went and had an early dinner and then he came in and we laid down for a little bit.

And then we did it again!!!! And by now we're both hurting. The only thing I can liken it to is an insanely good meal and you're so full you're in pain, but you can't stop nibbling. And then there's all the conversation about everything. I don't know if it's the English as a second language thing, but he is in the habit of, and come to think of it always has done this since I met him, he is always telling me what he likes about me: I like that you don't stay angry, I like that I can tell you anything, I like that you laugh at yourself. It's like a positive self esteem workshop. I have never met a man who is so into communicating so openly and I am liking that, among so many other things, about him.

He does all these little things that I love like he put on this CD yesterday morning that was all trumpet music from the 60s and he stood there and folded his laundry naked while I nibbled on a bran muffin and laid on the couch reading with the sun coming in through all the windows. And then he put on this song that was a prayer - in Spanish - and was really beautiful - and he came over and kissed me.

And we ended up doing it again.

And I think, wonder, ponder - can this last? I've been in lots of relationships and I love sex, but it's never been like this before. He tells me all the time, "We are awesome together!" and we're both more than a little blown away I think.

It's a good thing I'm too exhausted to think very much about it because I could freak myself right out.

And he's leaving Saturday for Israel and will be gone for 2 1/2 weeks and I'm thinking I'm going to miss him. A lot. But as I sit her I'm also really aware that vajeena needs a rest.