I drop Mike off Thursday morning and won’t see him until Monday night. He’s working in Santa Inez on a show called Wino – my kind of show. Try and bring home some good wine! I’m sad when he leaves. I know, it’s only a long weekend, but I hate being alone at the apartment. It’s scary. And not just that. I find it’s difficult to fall asleep without him next to me (as if it’s not already difficult enough).
In the afternoon I go to the library – it’s only two blocks away – and get a library card. I haven’t been in a library in so long. I used to go in college all the time. It was massive with lots of nooks and crannies where I could hide and study and get my work done with no interruptions. I didn’t actually go there to look at books, though. The last place I did that was probably in middle school at the public library, when it was fun to go to the library. Let me clarify: it was dreadful to go for a school project about geography or penguins or something for which I needed at least ten references; it was fun to go for books off the summer reading list like The Westing Game, or any fictional, interesting book. Non-fiction was gross.
The Los Angeles Public Library – Venice branch – is a little sad. There are more computers than actual books. Desks and uncomfortable chairs instead of space and plush seating. It’s a little disappointing. I guess I was hoping for something more…intriguing. Still, I walk around for a while, observing, checking out what actual books it does have to offer. The teen books are the most appealing: James and the Giants Peach, The Giver, Where the Sidewalk Ends, an assortment of Judy Blume books. They bring back memories – like my favorite poem from Where the Sidewalk Ends: Homework, oh homework. Did I have to memorize it? Because I still know it. And I uttered the phrase, ‘Homework, oh homework I hate you, you stink,” hundreds of times in my young adult life. Maybe I had to memorize the poem and say it in front of the class. I realize now that if any assignment was an oral presentation, I was excited for it and put a lot of effort into it. Like when I had to recite Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken in Ms. Hassle’s 8th grade class. I blur this with other memories, but I feel like Kelly and I did this together. It wasn’t supposed to be a “fun” assignment, but we were hysterical, I guess because I was very dramatic about it, while Kelly may have been pretending to be Robert Frost himself with an old man voice. We also paired up to do a re-enactment of Anne Frank (I was Anne and she was Peter). Again, not a funny topic – at all – but we loved putting on a show.
Thursday night Mike gets done at a reasonable hour so we skype from his hotel room. He gets all giddy and silly like we didn’t just see each other this morning. “We can do this every night, or every time I go away.” It’s automatic. Whenever people skype, they immediately talk about the next time they’re going to skype. And usually, it doesn’t happen. With the girls, we said we were going to skype once a month – our first and only session was back in November. It was Nick’s first time when he did it, and he was so excited about it. He, also, wanted to skype once a month. It’s only happened once. Eventually, I fall asleep on my couch without pulling it out, hoping it might be more comfortable. It’s not.
Friday I take off work. I probably shouldn’t, but I have this problem where family and friends far exceed my want or need to make money. And it wasn’t a problem, which made the decision easier – Corrinne was happy to take the shift. It’s not like I didn’t have a good reason – Tara is leaving for the WHOLE SUMMER after her wedding. We need one night to hang out before she leaves, because even though I’ll see her at the wedding, she’ll be so busy with everything and everyone. I need Tara time. I could have hung out during the week, but she’s crazy busy with work. Besides, it’s our first cheat day this month (actually, Tara already cheated!). I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for an alcoholic beverage. It’s been 13 days.
After a morning of writing and a trip to the farmer’s market, I head to the beach where I finish Savages – somewhat of a new age, bloody, drug-induced Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Still not sure how I feel about it. I liked it, but wasn’t crazy about the ending. Back at the apartment I catch up on laundry and cleaning the apartment (while watching Greek – better get it in while Mike isn’t around) then drive over to Rich and Tara’s around 8:30pm. OK, so it’s not completely a girls’ night, but we still talk about pretty much the same things. (Obviously, if Rich wasn’t here we’d talk about Rich and Mike.) I bring over two bottles of red, but Rich and Tara stick with vodka sodas. Tara makes a big salad – wedding diet. It’s delicious, nonetheless. I always plan to take notes of the conversation for the blog, but forget. Conversation is easy among the three of us. We sit, and drink, and laugh, and listen to good music. It’s my kind of night. By 2am we’re spent, and head to bed. I sleep amazing in their guest room on a tempur-pedic mattress. It’s like heaven, especially compared to my couch.