The Sheila Variations

Samurai call this ...

For some reason, yesterday morning Jean became a samurai calesthenics instructor - and was making Cashel and me laugh so hard that we were close to drowning at certain points. We had to stop playing the game becaue Cashel was guffawing so loudly he was drinking the entire lake.

"Samurai call this ... the albatross ..." she would intone, and then do some goofy "calesthenics" with her noodle. (We've been all about the noodles. We can't stop talking about them. "Hey - could you grab me a noodle?" "Where's my noodle?" "Do we have any more noodles?")

"Samurai call this ... great dog ..." and Jean swam off away from us, pushing the huge noodle along with her nose.

We played Samurai Calesthenics Instructor for about 45 minutes. It's a game that keeps on giving.

Watching Field of Dreams with Cashel

At the sight of Shoeless Joe in the field at night, Cashel cuddled up to Bren, whispering, "This is like a horror movie!"

I think Cash's favorite part was James Earl Jones chasing Kevin Costner out of his apartment saying, "You're from the 60s! Go back to where you belong!" Cashel couldn't stop laughing about that. The sound of Cashel's unselfconscious laugh is the best sound in the world.

Cashel on Frankenstein:

"I read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and every other WORD was 'melancholy'. The melancholy sky, the melancholy smile ... EVERYTHING was 'melancholy'! And it was 200 pages before he built the monster!"

So, Mary, could you dial down the melancholy, please? A 10 year old in 2008 is bored by the repetition. Thanks.

Culture snapshots and emotional snapshots

-- I'm reading A Widow for One Year by John Irving and also The Fortune of War by Patrick O'Brian. Awesome counterpoint. Both superb writers in their own way.

-- Thank you, dear Siobhan, for introducing me to the amazing pleasures of L.E.O. - I cannot get enough of them right now. (Website here) Mike Viola and the Candybutchers are pretty much a required course if you are an O'Malley - kinda like the Foo Fighters - you at least have to give them a chance ... otherwise we won't take you seriously. It's kind of non-negotiable. Sorry. Anyway, L.E.O. is sheer liquid joy floating through the atmosphere. The song "Make Me" is my current fave. (Explanation of what L.E.O. is here)

-- Thinking a lot about Jeff Bridges these days. More later.

-- Went to a screening last week of Mongol, the sweeping Russian epic about Genghis Khan. Big plush press screening room on 57th Street, it was great. Everyone (myself included) blackberrying throughout the film, stepping outside to take a phone call, whatever ... and also scribbling on notepads throughout ... totally different atmosphere from seeing a movie out in the real world, but fun and interesting. My review will be on House Next Door eventually - I'll point you that way when it launches.

-- Totally consumed by something I'm working on now. It's causing me a lot of stress, there are not enough hours in the day, but I find a deadline ultimately very freeing.

-- Oh, guess who I heard from randomly (God bless Facebook) ... the guy I gave a photograph of my eyeball to for Valentine's Day 'lo those many years ago. Hysterical. It was good to catch up. I didn't bring up the eyeball. It's still too embarrassing.

-- I miss all of my friends right now.

-- Cashel wears a fedora to school now. He calls it his "trademark".

-- Allison's going to Italy for 10 days with her aunt to take a vacation in Tuscany on a horse farm. She's going to be riding horses the entire time. I'm so happy for her, although I will miss her.

-- Thank you, Hitachi. From the bottom of my heart: THANK. YOU.

-- Oh, and I'm also reading Patricia Neal's autobiography (thank you, cousin Mike!) and damn it's making me fucking SAD. She had one love. Gary Cooper. And she never recovered from the loss. Never. And Roald Dahl was a son of a bitch. But what a life, what a career, what strength ... but she ends the book with thoughts of Gary. She never got over it.

-- I crossed 2 or 3 pretty major things off my To Do list which have been haunting me. I actually cried when I crossed the last one off. It had been tormenting my mind, and giving me stress dreams.

-- Watched Stranger Than Fiction last night for, oh, the 10th time, and had to mop the tears off my face at the end. Slowly it's becoming one of my all-time favorite movies. ("You're never too old for space camp, dude.")

-- Last week I said the following sentence to Patrick, "My fallopian tubes are unfurling." Patrick still has not recovered.

-- My entire consciousness is now consumed by the bridesmaid dress I will wear in September.

-- I find office supplies immensely relaxing.

2007 Year in Pictures

Cashel in the batting cage

Paging Sigmund Freud

Talking with Cashel on the phone last night. He launched into a monologue at one point.

"I was playing the Star Wars Legos game the other night, and I was so focused on it that I dreamed about Legos that night! And the dreams were reeaaaally scary!! Dad said that I was so concentrated on the Legos that they went into my subconscious."

I hate it when that happens.

A certain special little boy

is turning 10 years old today. 10? Can it be?? My whole life changed when I morphed from regular old Sheila to "Auntie Sheila". It's a whole new part of my identity now - one that I hold so dear. I can't imagine my life without Cashel!

He has moved on to much more ambitious projects now - with his video camera. He even took a movie-editing class this last summer. But just to show how far he has come, I will link to (yet again) his earlier work.

The much beloved KUNG FOOD GUY series.

Part 1

Part 2 (Please take note of how Pasta Guy's face changes right before he is devoured. He starts out screaming in horror - and then at the last second, he becomes resigned and Zen about it. That's my favorite part.)

Trailer for Part 3

Happy birthday, dear Cashel! You're ten! I can't beLIEVE it.

Like a true O'Malley:

this is how we found Cash when we went upstairs to tuck him in on our first night in the Cape:

Face down, fast asleep, in The Once and Future King.

pas de deux with the wind

There's a new choreographer on the block.

Here is a sneak peek of his latest work.

It is called "The Windiest Day EVER at the Beach."

Use the force, Cashel!

"Do or do not. There is no try."

(Cashel called me last night and today to give me permission to post this photo of him and his friend Jack. Great job with the Photoshopping, Cash!)

The life of Herb Brooks

I think this is one of the best movies I've ever seen. Done by a kid for a class project. I can't stop watching it. And I get all choked up at the end every time when you see the photos.

Thank you, Emily!!!

Speaking of an O'Malley filmmaker (Kung Food Guy: Part 1, Part 2, trailer for Part 3) Cashel is going to a summer camp where he will learn how to create video games.

This is the coolest thing ever.

He left me a rambling message where I only understood two words: "500,000 dollars" ... It sounded like, "blah blah garble blah and BLAH GARBLE BLAH!!! blahblahblahblah 500,000 dollars!!"

Is he asking me for 500,000 dollars? Not sure.

I also had a brief conversation with him, where I could tell his attention was elsewhere. I had interrupted his Simpsons marathon.

I said, "Okay, Cash, I'll let you go. I know you need to get back to the Simpsons."

He pondered this, and then said, "Well. I don't think I need to get back to the Simpsons."

I howled with laughter. His linguistic sophistication rearing its head. "Hahahaha VERY good point, Cash - but you WANT to ... You don't NEED to, but you WANT to. I completely know what you are talking about."

I don't NEED to watch Holiday and Only Angels Have Wings back to back on a weekly basis. No, I don't NEED to. But I WANT to.

And that's good enough for me. Life is so full of have-tos. It's good to make time for what you WANT-to.

Anyway, I can't wait to see what video game he creates.

Oh, and watch that Herb Brooks movie. Genius! I've watched it 3 times.

The day

I wrote this last year and I'm posting it again.

It's a self-absorbed post, my favorite kind. It is about what I remember. I mean - all I remember NOW is that it was Cashel's birthday. But this is not what the post was about, originally. It's about what I remembered from the day before, and the day of ... 2 of the most vivid and freaky days I've ever had in my life.

I wanted to write it from a ground-level perspective - which is hard - because I keep wanting to put in retrospective comments, stuff I've learned, how it all turned out, how I realize NOW that such and such ... but no. That was not the point of the post.

THE DAY

The clock was ticking. It had been ticking for months. The anticipation was tremendous, unbearable. As the day approached, it was as though the upcoming event washed away all other thoughts and concerns in my mind, and in the collective mind of my whole family. We could not talk of anything else.

The baby was coming! The baby was coming! The baby was coming! We didn't know if it was a boy or a girl ... but we knew that it was coming, and we loved it to death. It was the first grandchild to be born - on Brendan's side, and on Maria's side. We were al lout of our minds.

This is a post about what I remember about that day. And it involves the day before (it always does, doesn't it?) But it's really about that day. THE day. Certainly one of the most important days of my life, because it was the day that Cashel was born. Cashel, whose birthday is today.

I was in grad school. It was a vigorous and energetic time. I was living in Hoboken with my dear friend Jen. It was the late 1990s and my sister-in-law, the one who was carrying the most IMPORTANT BABY WHO WOULD EVER BE BORN, had gotten me a freelance gig my first year in New York, to make extra cash while I was slogging away in grad school. This was the dot com era, and there was major money to be made for doing ... basically ridiculous meaningless things. What were we doing? Or selling? Nobody knew. It was the something "new", the new thing! She got me a freelance gig, doing Rainman programming for AOL, and it paid 30 bucks an hour. I made friends doing that insane gig that I still have today.

Our dot com was affiliated with New Line Cinema so our offices were a floor below New Line corporate. You would walk up the spiral staircase into New Line proper, and there you were surrounded by cubicles, fluorescent lights, white boards, pie charts, Power Point, and perky girls in form-fitting suits and alligator pumps. You know. Civilization. But down that spiral staircase? You were full-on in wacko dot com world. There were mannequins dressed in school girl slut clothes. There were no overhead lights. There was more than one lava lamp. Dart boards were on the wall, beanbag chairs were on the floor. We were barely presentable. If "corporate" was coming down to visit, we'd really have to clean up the place, and make it look just a little bit like a real office. You know, like take the cigarette out of the mannequin's hand.

I used to work beside a guy named Pat, who was a surfer, a writer, a music-lover, and kind of brilliant in a very chaotic way. He also was kind. He was an online personality. He was born to be an online personality. He had nutso hair that was a different color each week, and he was doing literally MEANINGLESS things online on a daily basis, hosting chats, writing articles about stuff that he found interesting, and he made shitloads of money. He was a crazy Irishman. He's now married to a no-nonsense tough Irish chick who grew up with 8 older brothers. Her brothers were always beating guys up because they were being protective towards her. She finally had to be like, "Guys, STOP BEATING UP MY BOYFRIENDS." She is PERFECT for Pat, because she knows how to handle men. She ought to, with 8 brothers! But she doesn't play headgames, she's able to be one of the boys, she's a huge sports fan ... Perfect girl for him.

When I knew him, though, during the dot com mania, he was single and he's the kind of guy I click with, guys like that always get along with me really well.

We were friends. We sat side by side, at our respective computers, and he would reach out with his left hand and play with my ear lobe as we worked. He never asked permission. We never discussed it. It's strangely bizarre when I look back on it ... but that whole time was bizarre.

Upstairs was corporate America. Downstairs was Pat, with jet black hair standing up straight, or blonde streaked surfer dude locks, or totally bald having shaved it all off in a drunken frenzy. Downstairs was Pat touching my ear lobe as he typed with his other hand. I never said, "Uhm ... what's up with my ear lobe?" I can't remember the first day he did it, but I didn't slap him away, and so the ear lobe thing went on the entire time we both worked there, as darts flew towards the bullseye behind our heads, as people sat around us working at their computers with huge headphones on listening to music, as people lay in the beanbag chairs eating Krispy Kremes and having "integration meetings" ... and we all were working on ... what, exactly?

None of the companies I originally worked for are in existence today.

I told you this would be a post about what I remember.

When I think about "that day" - all of this stuff surrounds it. Dim lights, crazy offices, free-spirited funky dot com people, and Pat playing with my earlobe as he ran online chats. I worked 20 hours a week, I think ... taking the subway to 59th Street from my school in the Village. And I had a full course load.

I would spend my weekends out in Park Slope with my brother and Maria ... and her belly was growing ... and we would feel the baby kicking ... and the baby was so REAL to us ... I had a relationship with the baby from the moment they told us she was pregnant, of course. I didn't know who it was in there, but I couldn't WAIT to find out. But meanwhile ... during the pregnancy ... I had a huge huge love for the creature in there. I loved it so much.

The C-section was scheduled, finally, for October 31. Calendars were marked throughout the O'Malley and Sullivan family. That was THE day.

Maybe 4 or 5 days before Halloween, I was at my freelance job, getting my earlobe stroked by Pat the surfer, doing my work. I called my voice mail service to get my messages.

And - like a bolt from the blue - I heard an all-too-familiar voice. A voice that made my heart burst out of my chest. A man I once loved (you know, this one). I still loved him, I guess - But it was over, so, you know, life goes on. You slog on. You do the best you can. You MOVE. I had moved. It wrenched us apart geographically. He had my number, but never called it. It was over. It was over in the biggest way possible. But there was his voice ... there was his voice ... telling me that he would be in New York for one day only to do a show ... and want to get together? I could barely understand the message because I went out of my mind at the sound of his voice. I lurched forward in my seat, clutching the phone. The earlobe-stroking stopped as Pat looked over at me, curious as to my response. I was saying into the phone as I listened, "Oh my God. Oh my God." Surfer Pat mouthing at me, "What? Who is it?" All I heard was that HE would be in town for one day. And he was calling me to let me know that and to let me know the hotel he would be staying in. I was instantly a wreck. I had to listen to the message again because I had barely understood a word. I wrote down the address of the hotel. He also gave me his itinerary, he had to be here at this time, and there at that time, he would be checking in at that time ... and his voice was so jaunty and cheerful (Like always, I knew exactly what he was going through. He knew I would flip out when I heard his voice, so he wanted to sound unthreatening, unemotional, and ... happy. Like this would be no big deal. No big deal, right? We're friends, right? Happy happy joy joy!)

His jaunty cheerful voice: "So ... I know you're ... like, a really busy ACTRESS and everything ...but ... if you're around ... well ... that's where I'll be ..."

I made Pat the surfer-dude listen to the message so I could hear what he thought. I hadn't told Pat about him or anything - but I just gave him a quick bullet-point list of the situation and then said, "LISTEN TO THE MESSAGE." As though he were my best girlfriend or something. Why I loved Pat was that he - a rough-round-the-edges straight Irish boy - listened to the message seriously, no expression on his face, hung up the phone, said in a flat tone, "The dude's in love with you," and turned back to his computer screen, reaching out for my earlobe.

So.

October 30. He would be in town on October 30.

It was so bewildering to me, so intense ... and not altogether welcome. My main focus of that autumn had been the upcoming birth. It was beautiful, hopeful, so exciting. And ... to have ... him come to New York ... which he never did ... and to have it be on the day before this momentous event ... I guess you could say some of the ol' circuitry got a little botched up in my nervous system. I was wound tight as a top, man. I mean, I'm always wound tight as a top - but this was even more nuts than usual. My heart constricted into a tiny fluttering laser-beam of movement. Okay. Okay. You're gonna see him. Get ready. Ya ready?

I had class the morning of October 30. Classics. My outfit had been painstakingly chosen, with much help from my roommate. I wore a tight houndstooth skirt, and high brown heels - very retro - a fitted brown sweater. The outfit was very 1940s leading lady. Womanly.

I had a great class, I remember. And then I walked out into the blinding autumn morning, the flaming leaves in the trees, and headed uptown to go meet him at his hotel. I was completely consumed with keeping myself together, and not flying off into a million bits into the universe. Breathe ... breathe ... one foot ... in front of the other ... stay calm. Stay calm.

I walked into the hotel lobby. It was a fancy hotel, but intimate, small, lovely - with deathly slippery marble floors ... and I remember this part perfectly. It's going to be hard to describe - because it depends on the visual, it was such a cinematic moment. But this is just how it happened:

Slippery marble floors. I could barely breathe, I was so freakin' TENSE about seeing this man again. I was having cardiac arrest ... we had no meeting place or time ... I didn't know where he would be, he didn't know if I would show up, I hadn't responded to his phone call because he hadn't given me a phone number (and I didn't have his number) ... so it was either going to happen or it wasn't ... He had told me where he would be, and when ... and if I was free ... I could show up at that time. Right on schedule, I walked into the lobby, palpitating, he could have been ANYWHERE ... but I had to keep my exterior calm and cool, in case he saw me before I saw him ... so I tried to look around, casually, for his face. And I remember these workmen walked by, carrying an enormous decoration of some kind, perhaps on their way to a private party room, for a wedding reception or something. The decoration was so big that it was almost like a stage set, it took 3 guys to carry it ... and it was all silvery and covered in pearls, and there were long streaming silver ribbons, and sparkley gems covering it ... All silver and white. It took up the whole lobby, and I stopped, watching it pass by, it seemed so odd ... it wasn't a Halloween decoration, and I was so hyped up that pretty much everything in the world was coming at me in vivid 3-D technicolor ... and then - once the decoration had passed by ... there he was. It was as though the silver-glitter thingamabob was a curtain or something - going up - signifying the start of the theatrical event that would obviously be our day together.

He saw me. I saw him. The whole thing was wordlessly dramatic, and rather awkward. We were always bad at greetings and goodbyes, we never hugged, or gave casual kisses, or anything. We had a hard time just saying, "Hey, what's up" or "How have you been?" to each other. We just couldn't do it. We were like hot stoves to each other. You can't really cuddle up to a hot stove ... it's too dangerous. But seeing each other after all that time ... seeing each other in the strange unfamiliar lobby ... with a silver floating stage set going by like some Busby Berkeley fantasy dream-sequence ... He and I had a full greeting. Even with no hug. Even with no words. We needed neither.

Within 10 minutes it was as though we had never been apart. We were just in sync. Always. However, everything was different now. We knew that. We didn't speak of it, we didn't have to. It was there at all times.

He had hours free until he had to do his show. He said, "I kinda wanna see your school. I want to see where you spend all your time. Show me the coffee shops where you go. So I can picture it."

And so that's what we did.

I took him downtown and I "showed him my school". I took him into my classrooms, I introduced him to my acting teacher. I took him to my coffee shop. He walked into the joint (which was completely generic - you would find such a coffee shop in any town anywhere) ... and he walked into it, stared around him, taking it in, and then nodded, to himself. Like: "Okay. Got it." Like he had memorized it for safe keeping.

I knew I would cry about such moments later.

We walked and walked and walked. We talked. He made me laugh so hard I cried. He went off on the "lack of enthusiasm" in "kids today". He went off on it for a good 20 minutes. I egged him on, I completely agree with him, and suddenly he heard himself and said, "Oh man. I sound like such an old fogey. These kids today!" The sun was shining, it was Indian summer, everyone was out, the NYU students, the locals ... it was a day when you suddenly were happy to be alive. It was also as though New York City put on its best outfit ... just for my guest.

I remember we went to Washington Square Park. We watched the street performers. We sat on a stone bench, and soaked up the atmosphere. Time stood still with him. It stretched out. It couldn't have only been 5 hours that I was with him. That CANNOT be right.

We had no deep conversations. We never really did. We didn't have to. We talked about books and music and told funny stories.

A drug dealer wearing a Rasta hat came up to us. His eyes were marbly-glazed and red, but he had a really friendly reggae-drenched smile. "Smokes, smokes?" he offered.

The two of us smiled at him regretfully. "No thanks," we said together.

He shrugged, sadly, and then took another look at us. He took us in. Then he stated, "You two are in love."

We froze. Neither of us knew what to say or do. We didn't respond. We sat there, consumed with awkwardness. Seriously. It wasn't delicious awkwardness, or flirty awkwardness ... It was this unspeakable thing that had been spoken by A DRUG DEALER. A freakin' stoned drug dealer saw the love. We had been fine until that moment.

We both kind of awkwardly said, "Oh ... well ... you know ...." He had plunged us into this psychodrama which we couldn't even reference ourselves, not if we wanted to get through this day without a huge scene.

Rasta guy said, seriously, not looking at me, but looking at my companion, "She's the only woman for you, my friend."

We both laughed (oh, they were the fakest laughs in the world) and my friend kind of awkwardly put his arm around me. It was an act. Maybe if we validated Rasta's observation, and said, "Yes, that's true" then drug dealer would go away and stop TORMENTING US WITH MIGHT-HAVE-BEENS. His arm around me was like a stiff robot arm.

It worked. Rasta guy walked away, and then called back at us, "Today is a day for lovers, you know!"

And he was gone. Leaving us silent, and totally awkward with each other.

Suddenly, after hours of nonstop talk ... silence. We didn't know where to look (certainly not at each other), we drank our sodas, looking around us, pretending to be people-watching, trying to pretend that that didn't just happen, nibbling on pretzels ... We might as well have started whistling, staring up at the sky "nonchalantly". It was that cliche.

We went on like this for a good 5 minutes until ...

"Wanna go see The Bottom Line?" I asked. I was desperate. I had to do somehing to save us.

He leapt up, all excited and not awkward anymore. "Yes!!"

We walked around the city for a couple more hours. I showed him stuff. We staggered around laughing. He asked questions. I answered. I asked questions. He answered.

I didn't realize until that gold and blue October day how much I really missed him.

We said goodbye on a corner near his hotel. We were suddenly very formal with each other. We had a stiff hug (like I said, we're not huggers. We can't touch casually, AT ALL. Still can't. Even now when we see each other, we can't just have a friendly normal hug. Nope. No way. Not because of animosity but ... well, you'll just have to figure it out yourselves, people.) - "Good to see you!" "Oh, it was so great to see you in your element!" "Have a great show!" blah blah blah.

Casual! Happy! We're old friends visiting! Yay!! Fun fun!

And he was off. And I was off.

As I walked back to school, it was as though I had an anchor, suddenly pulling me down into the cold blue deep. Literally, the second I turned away from him I could feel myself fall. And it was a far fall, man. It just kept going down. And down. And down.

I came back to Hoboken that night ... the day before THE DAY ... and cried myself to sleep. Pressing down on my heavy heart, with my own hands, trying to soothe the hurt there, which was searing. I was proud of myself, though, that I had kept it together during our time that day. There were no meltdowns. I hadn't "gone there". We kept it together. We had a nice time. We enjoyed each other's company. We kept it light. We made jokes. We laughed, we didn't ruin it. I was proud of both of us for that.

I woke up the next morning.

It was THE DAY. The day we had all been looking forward to for so long.

But God. How differently I suddenly felt. My whole hopeful autumn had been knocked out of me, leaving a puffy-eyed pale-faced girl with an anchor round her foot.

I made my way to the crazy New Line office, with its mannequins wearing kilts and biker boots, and its low lights, the glimmering screens of the monitors ... I sat at my computer, wearing my sunglasses inside because my eyes were so messed up from crying and I was embarrassed. I had a couple of hours there before I headed down to the hospital where I would be there for the birth.

The birth! Is the day really here? Is it really happening? What the hell? Did yesterday even happen?

Weird what you remember. I remember going to work that morning and I remember looking forward to Pat playing with my earlobe. The earlobe thing had become a normal part of my everyday life, and I took it for granted. But suddenly, on Halloween, on THE DAY, I needed it. I needed a nice tender friendly touch that day. And I needed not to ask for it. I needed a touch that demanded nothing of me in return. A touch that was gentle, but with gentleness that did not hurt me. And there he was. Now that I'm actually thinking about "the earlobe thing", I think that why it was so cool is that it wasn't sexual. It wasn't a come-on. It started as an affectionate joke thing, or like he was my little brother trying to bug me as I tried to work, and he just kept doing it, until it morphed into ... almost a trance-like thing, where we weren't even aware we were doing it.

So I sat there, on THE DAY, with my heart down in the cold blue deep, thudding painfully against my chest, doing my Rainman programming for 30 bucks an hour, drinking up the touch of Pat's hand on my earlobe, with tears rolling down my face. A constant flow of tears. Pat never mentioned the tears. He was too much of a gentleman for that.

Then.

It was time.

The moment we all had been waiting for. For nine months.

I left the office. It was 5 o'clock at night. I was kind of hysterical, truth be told. I hadn't fully segued yet. I was still trying to get back up to the surface. Believe it or not, I had completely forgotten it was Halloween. The really important event of that day was the birth. So I emerged onto the street, and I remember watching a witch walk by me, with a tall pointed hat, and then I remember watching a guy come towards me, fully dressed as an Oompa Loompa, with a bright orange face. I was so out of it, so absorbed with my own pain, that I didn't know what was going on for a second. Why is there a witch on the sidewalk ... oh my God, why is there an Oompa Loompa? I remember, too, that it was sunset, and the sky was a bright PINK. A crayola pink. With no other colors blended in, no soft wash of lavenders or lilacs ... no. Just a flat Pepto Bismol pink sky. With witches and Oompa Loompas coming at me.

Of course I remembered in the next second second that it was Halloween, but for those few moments when I had forgotten the world seemed like a completely insane place. With no rules I recognized. I had never seen a sky that garishly pink before. The streets were full of ghosts and ghouls and people with masks. Reality had shifted.

Oh, but no. It was just Halloween. I started walking down one of the Avenues - I had time to walk - I didn't feel fit to get onto the subway. I was too hysterical. And the sky was a glaring pink, and goblins and ghouls filled the streets. Everything was so WEIRD. NOTHING was normal. People in masks, ghosts, wizards, warlocks, vampires, Medusas ... strolling up 6th Avenue under the pink sky.

Truth be told, I kind of felt like I was losing my mind for about 20 minutes.

But it was good that I walked, because by the time I reached Beth Israel Hospital, the segue was finished. It's a long walk. I left the hysteria behind on the walk, I remember the breathing, the letting go ... and I came out of tragic mode and went into celebration mode. The goblins and ghouls had helped, turns out. Nothing was normal. And so it was COMPLETLEY fine that I was crying as I walked down the street. I cried as I walked. I didn't have to hold the tears back, which always makes things worse. I could just cry. And the goblins passed me by, not noticing. What did they care? They were goblins.

It wasn't ALL out by the time I reached the hospital, but let's just say the first wave was out. I had no idea how much feeling I would eventually have when that child arrived. I mean, I was excited, and I had SOME idea, but until it happened ... I just couldn't know what was coming.

I made my way to the maternity ward, and ... slowly ... as I took the elevator up ... I shed the day before like an old snake skin ... I let it go ... and I accepted the day I was actually in. It was the day. The day of our dreams.

The substance of things hoped for.

My heart was no longer an anchor sitting at the bottom of the ocean. It pounded against my rib cage ... the adrenaline rushing back in ...

It was time ... it was time ...

My parents were there in the waiting room. Maria's parents and brother were there in the waiting room. I joined them. There were other families waiting there, too. We got very involved in their stories. We shared our stories. We waited. We paced. We talked about nothing. We made chit-chat. We were completely in the moment. ALL we were doing was WAITING.

We loved our baby so much. We couldn't wait to meet ... him? Her?

The other family, whose daughter had had a labor of 24 hours or something and then had to have an emergency C-section, was anxious and exhausted ... and I think it rubbed off on us. I held onto my dad's hand as we waited. The anticipation was unbelievable.

And then ...

The moment came.

Brendan, in his doctor's scrubs, came out of the delivery room wheeling a little tub ... We all LEAPT to our feet. The moment was indescribable. I can't do it justice.

In the tub ... was a small cocoon. A white cocoon of a human being. With HUGE eyeballs staring out of it. HUGE STARING EYEBALLS.

Brendan whispered at us, excitedly, "It's a boy!"

Oh, we had never heard such miraculous words. Never! The burst of emotion that followed ... was operatic. I saw Maria's mother turn to Maria's father and throw her arms around him in a total abandonment of joy. My parents hugged each other, hugged my brother, hugged Maria's parents, I was hugging Brendan, with tears streaming down my face ... different tears now ... glad tears ... The joy I felt was ferocious, a stabbing knife of life-affirming joy. The anxious family, waiting for word of their daughter, got caught up in our celebration, and hugged each other, hugged us. And we all just kept peeking at the small white cocoon ... this PERSON ... this person we had all been waiting for, and loving so hard for 9 months ...

this wee white-swaddled being with HUGE STARING EYEBALLS ...

who was now ... undeniably ...

HERE.

Kung Food Guy!

No - there is not a new movie out - but there WILL be.

And here's the trailer! Just to whet your whistle.

It's especially great - because I am posting this on the filmmaker's 9th birthday. So it's all just even MORE cool!!!

I have many comments about the trailer - my favorite parts, etc., (I love the last close-up which kind of comes out of nowhere) but I will save them for later.

Refresher:
Kung Food Guy - part 1

Kung Food Guy - part 2

Cranium: "toupee"

Cashel was given "toupee" and he had to draw it with his eyes closed, and we all had to guess what it was.

Look at his drawing. Of a freakin' toupee.

Done with his eyes closed.

"Everything looks 3-D."

This was Cashel's response to what it feels like to have glasses. Cashel just got glasses. Uhm ... I need a picture of Cashel in glasses IMMEDIATELY.

I remember when I first got glasses. In 5th grade. My first glasses had thin silver rims and were vaguely Oscar Goldman-ish. I will never forget being driven home after first getting the glasses - and I remember we were driving by Old Mountain Field - and I was completely blown away by how the trees no longer looked like green BLURS. I was amazed at how I could see individual leaves. I had thought that EVERYBODY saw trees as vague green blurs!

So yes, Cashel, everything DID look 3-D!

My heart cracks at the thought of him in glasses. Can't wait to see him again. Where we can commiserate on our vision issues.

Correction

Talking on the phone with Cashel on Friday night. Cashel was pretending to be a martian for the entirety of our conversation.

Cashel (in martian voice): "I wonder what this little hole in the wall is for! I know that you earthlings call it an electrical socket! What would happen if I put my finger in there?"

Cashel then makes a long bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz sound.

Cashel (in martian voice): "The electrical socket is bad."

Auntie Sheila: "Uhm - so am I talking to an electrocuted martian right now?"

Cashel: "No. You're talking to a DEAD electrocuted martian right now."

Cashel then collapsed into hysterical laughter.

We continued on in this manner for about 20 minutes more.

DC Comics vs. Marvel Comics

-- Cashel slept over my house on Saturday night. This is a first. I planned for it as though a Head of State was passing through.

-- As we careened through the Lincoln Tunnel together (in the crazy little bus), on the way back to Jersey, he said, in a tone of humorous awe, "It's weird that I'm going to be in a different state than my dad!" I told him about the line in the middle of the tunnel - where it says New York on one side and New Jersey on the other. So we kept our eyes open for it - so we could be aware of the moment when we were actually in two states at the same time! When we saw the line, I glanced down at Cash, and I could see this huge grin on his face - as he was briefly picturing himself being split down the middle between 2 states.

-- Cashel was amazed at how tall the Empire State Building is. "It makes the Chrysler Building look so small!" he exclaimed in his enthusiastic mouse-voice.

-- He kept commenting on the cultural differences between my neighborhood and New York. "This feels like Maine," he said, as we tromped along the sidewalks to my house. "Really, buddy? Maine?" I asked, kind of doubtful, to tell you the truth. He said, thinking about it, "Yeah! It's quiet. Well ... it's quieter than Times Square!" That is always a good point of comparison. Is it quieter or louder than Times Square?

-- I think my favorite moment was when I brought him into my place (he's never been here before), and he came into my main room - sat down in the most comfortable chair (well - er - it's the ONLY comfortable chair - but he picked it!!) - took out his book and started reading. Immediately. SUCH an O'Malley moment. Yeah, whatevs, nice apartment, Auntie Sheila, I'm gonna read now. He didn't care about the TV until I mentioned it later. He didn't immediately sit down, pick up the remote, and turn on the TV. No. Out came the book. So I sat on my bed and read my book (which basically should be called The Black Death for Dummies - but oh well. I don't know much about the Black Death, so I guess you could call me a dummy. It's fun to read, believe it or not - even though the author talks to me like I'm retarded and don't know what bacteria is.). We sat in companionable silence and read for about an hour. I kept glancing up at him, I admit, so I could watch him read. The serious face, the long eyelashes, the big book ... I asked him questions about the book. He was forthcoming. "And this kid ... is endowed." Cashel said. Excuse me? "He is?" "Yeah. He is endowed with magical powers. And ... some crazy things happen to him." "Wow." Endowed.

-- Topics we discussed:
the Museum of Natural History, and the primates therein.
Illegal immigration. (Cashel brought it up.)
his best friends - who they are, and what their virtues are as friends
the Far Side (he's very into the Far Side) Once he gets started on the Far Side, it is a runaway train. Pretty hard to stop it.

-- I made him a sandwich. Mr. Picky Eater completely approved of the mustard, and asked me, as though he is a culinary connoisseur, "What kind of mustard is that?"

-- I know all I write about him are little teeny moments like that, but I love him and he kind of is a reminder of how miraculous life is. Small moments like that. There he is - this small person in my apartment - and it's kind of a miracle.

-- Then came the coolest thing. After dinner - with the amazing mustard - we turned on the TV to see what was on the History channel. You know, see if we could catch up with the Sumerians or something. And lo and behold - there was a 2-hour special on the entire history of Superman. We both got so excited!! Cashel is a Superman afficianado - and lectured me briefly on the importance of DC Comics, mentioning the names of the creators, casually, as though he knew them personally. So we were really psyched. I got him some ice cream. He sat on my rug, and I sat on my bed, and we watched. Occasionally we discussed. It was fanTAStic. Did anyone else see it?

-- Cashel had some comments: "I am REALLY interested to learn that the original Superman was evil!" This then led to Idea #1: He thinks it would be a great idea to have a movie where the original evil Superman battled the later good Superman. Almost like a Jekyll & Hyde thing.

-- Another idea he had was to have a movie where the cartoon characters created by DC Comics would battle the cartoon characters created by Marvel. Sort of an apocalyptic inter-comic-company war. Marvel vs. DC! Opening summer 2008!

-- We discussed the so-called Superman's Curse. I felt a little bit weird talking about suicide with Cashel - and George Reeves committed suicide - but Cashel seemed okay with it. Even baffled. "Why would someone want to kill themselves, Auntie Sheila?" Oh boy. We were on a commercial break, so I said, simply, "I guess he was just sad that he wasn't really Superman, Cash." Cashel thought about this, and then went back to his ice cream. Not really satisfied with the answer, but not pursuing the subject further. Hmmmm.

-- We laughed at the failed TV show "Super Pup" - which was put togehter in the wake of Reeves' suicide. I guess the producers thought: We can't have any more Supermans bite the bullet - so let's do the same Superman story, with the same cast, only let's have them all be dogs - only not real dogs - let's put midgets in dog outfits!!!!

Yeah, cause that's exactly the idea I would have in order to keep the franchise alive. I would hire midgets and make them wear dog costumes. Makes perfect sense!

-- We saw a bit of the pilot of Super Pup - which was ludicrous. Lois Lane was a poodle. The dog-heads were hard - made of some kind of hard thick plastic - and you just knew that there was some sweating midget inside. It was bleak. The narrator (Kevin Spacey) said, "This rarely shown pilot blah blah blah ..." The next day when Cashel was telling his dad about Super Pup, he rattled off, "We saw the rarely shown pilot!" Frankly, I can understand why it is "rarely shown".

-- Cashel has not seen the original Superman with Christopher Reeve! This is a must-see. We saw many clips from it. We saw Reeve's screentest - which - are always amazing for me to watch. I love seeing actors auditioning for the parts that eventually would make them famous. First of all: he was so hyped up and probably nervous that he had huge sweat stains in his blue leotard. Second of all: the performance that I saw in the screen test (and I think he was actually acting with Leslie Anne Warren who was up for the part of Lois) - was exactly the performance he ended up giving in the film. His audition had that much certainty to it - that much fullness. He had researched it to death - he knew what Superman represented - he knew what he had to embody - and so he DID that. He WAS Superman, and that was just his screen test. It just goes to show you that as an actor you always need to "show up" 110%. It's just a job interview ... but what they are looking for is the final product - and that may seem unfair - but that's the way it goes, and those actors who are sure enough of themselves to deliver that - will go far. It was great to see Reeve be so effortless in his screen test (only the sweat stains gave him away.)

-- When they showed the clip of Superman flying with Lois Lane near the Statue of Liberty - Cashel exclaimed (and it's a good point), "In Metropolis???"

Anyway - as you can see we had a great time with this special. We just ate the whole thing up ravenously - and were still talking about it the next day. Cashel is probably talking about it right now. Either that or the Far Side.

The potato famine, a-boo-hoo-hoo

It is well known in my family that my dad hates memorials to the potato famine. If you want to know why, just ask him! It's a "ooh! ooh! Mr. Kotter! Ooh! We were victimized too! We were victimized too!!" desperation that my dad despises. A-boo-hoo-hoo there was a potato famine. Get over it. Stop wallowing. So you had to eat your great-grandmother when she died. SO WHAT!! She was old anyway. I love to get my dad going on the potato famine memorials. The O'Malleys are from County Mayo - one of the hardest hit counties - but whatevs. Is that any reason to put up memorials in every city about it? It was black '47, a-boo-hoo. It's 2006 now. GET OVER IT. You just want to be included in the roll call of the world's biggest victims. Etc. I could go on and on, but you get the drift.

In our walk yesterday I said something like, "Somewhere along here is a memorial to the potato famine. Which of course makes dad crazy."

I was talking to Bren, but of course Cashel heard this and I could feel his little brain turning it over. Then the inevitable: "Why does the potato famine memorial make Gampa crazy?"

Bren replied, "Oh, because he's cranky."

We walked and walked. We saw the Korean War Memorial. We saw the US Navy memorial. We saw the really cool memorial to the Merchant Marines. That engendered a great discussion. Mainly about the seagull who perched on top of the main statue's head. Then suddenly, we saw something that looked like a discarded set for a Flintstone movie. Seriously. Look at the potato famine memorial in Battery Park and you'll see what I'm talking about.

"What is that?" asked Cashel.

"Some memorial, Cash. I have no idea what it is."

Then we heard some loudspeakered voice moaning on and on reproachfully and we heard the Irish accent and Bren said, "Oh God. It's the potato famine memorial."

"We have to go check it out."

We walked through it. There's a kind of recreation of - oh - Glendalough - but - it's dumb. I didn't say anything, though, because who knows - maybe Cashel would LIKE the potato famine memorial, and it's not up to me to tell him how to feel. We stood in one of the little Glendalough-esque alcoves, listening to the a-boo-hoo-hoo loudspeaker voice - on autopilot - there was an "old" stove cut into the wall, and Cashel went over and sat in it. All around us was the overwhelming sadness of the millions of Irish dead. Not. It looked like a Flintstone set.

Then I said, "Oh my God. We have to call Gampa right now and tell him where we are."

So we did. It was hysterical. I dialed - Dad picked up - and I said, "Hang on, Dad - we want to tell you where we are right now ..." And on the count of 3, just like we planned, Cashel, Bren and I screamed into the phone: "WE'RE AT THE POTATO FAMINE MEMORIAL!"

Seeing Cashel, with the huge smile on his face, and his big-boy teeth, scream those words - and he doesn't even really get WHY the potato famine memorial is funny - but he knows it's a joke, and that we're "getting Gampa" and that will be, in and of itself, funny.

My dad was HOWLING.

The funniest thing about it is that people were wandering around through the memorial - people of all nationalities - looking at the plaques, listening to the a-boo-hoo overhead, contemplating, being serious and respectful - blah blah - and 3 people of actual Irish descent stand in their midst, shouting into a phone about how FUNNY the memorial is.

Sumer

Cashel, Brendan and I walked around in Battery Park, looking at all the war memorials. We had many interesting discussions. Cashel said, in a tone of ancient worlds, obscured by the mists of time, "The Korean War was a long long time ago." At some point the word "genocide" came up. We were passing the Holocaust memorial - so it was appropriate. Cashel said, "What's genocide?" Ah, it's a beautiful summery day!! We're drinking lemonade, the sun beats down, the sounds of children laughing fill the hot air! It's the perfect time to discuss man's inhumanity to man! Bren said, "It's when one group of people decides to totally wipe out another group of people." There was a long pause. Cashel pondered this. Then he said, "Like with the Sumerians."

Kung Food guy!

For the first time ever - Cashel has commented on my blog! I'm so excited! I knew he read the posts that I put up about Kung Food Guy (he doesn't read my blog, of course - this is a grown-up blog - but when a Kung Food Guy installment goes up he is allowed to take a look at it with his mom or his dad watching) - but so far he's never commented! I am so excited.

So any Kung Food Guy fans who are out there - just want you to know - that Cashel is open to taking requests to the next part of the series - as he states right here!

One reminder: Cashel is 8 - and just remember how kids like to be taken seriously.

But I know there's a lot of love for him here - so if you have any ideas for him, or messages for him - go here!

The long-awaited sequel to Kung Food Guy

I am so excited about this that my heart just LEAPT when I saw the email from my brother.

So we have experienced Kung Food Guy. There were immediate cries for a sequel.

And Cashel has come through!!!

Wait until you see. I have many comments but I will wait for now.

Here is ....

Kung Food Guy 2.

This one has a particularly terrifying (meaning: satisfying) ending.

Awesome, Cash-man! Great job, hon!

Cashel's latest

Truly there is nothing else to say - except maybe WOW!!

Busted!!

Cashel and I had a long conversation about his most recent projects, and his upcoming projects. The talk turned to Kung Food Guy.

"Auntie Sheila," said Cashel over the phone, "I went to your blog and saw that you put my movie up."

Uhm. You "went to my blog"? You read my blog, Cashel? Also, the way he said blog - in this odd accent - "blawg" - kills me.

"You did? Member you told me it was okay, Cash?"

hahah I was afraid he would suddenly sue me for copyright violation or something.

He said, excitedly, "Oh, I know! But Auntie Sheila ... who are all those people who made comments??"

I felt like saying "Damned if I know" - hahaha - but I said, "Oh ... uhm ... they're my friends, Cash. They all liked your movie."

Cashel said, "I know! Last time I checked there was 32 comments!"

Last time I checked? You counted? The image of him coming back to my blog to see what other people were saying ... hahaha He was truly confused about who all those people were.

But more than that, he said:

"How did those people know about Stretchy Colorado?"

Oops.

"Uhm, I told them, Cash."

Cashel went on. "I was really surprised to hear someone talk about the banana sergeant."

Oops.

I said, "I'm sorry, Cash - I told them about the banana sergeant too." Auntie Sheila's a loudmouth.

"Oh, I don't care! I actually think that I WILL make a comic about Stretchy Colorado." Love it when little kids say "actually". Cashel says it all the time, and it kills me.

"Great idea! I love Stretchy. The whole banana sergeant thing was when you were really little - you probably don't even remember it, do you?"

Cashel did not. I described to him the card. I could hear and feel the silence of his listening emanating thru the wire. It was hilarious. He said something like, "Oh yeah" at the end - in a tone of: "Yes, that sounds like my work."

Cashel then took us back to the "blawg" and "all those people": "You know what, though, Auntie Sheila? I think you have to tell them about Garl."

Oops.

I said, "Garl is really cool, Cash."

Cash got all excited and said, "And someone in your comments said I should do a sequel to Kung Food Guy???" (Uhm - Mere? That would be you, I believe.) "Well, tell that person that I'm working on it."

Mere? He's working on it.

He then told me the entire plot. Which, you know, took about 2 seconds. The Kung Food Guy franchise is not known for its intricate plot.

But it sounds like it's gonna be a good one!

Introducing: Kung Food Guy!

My nephew Cashel is 8 years old. Cashel just made his first movie. It is called Kung Food Guy.

I have watched it 500 times since I first received it.

It's one of the best movies I've ever seen, I think. Oh, and he gave me permission to put it up here. I asked first.

Introducing: Kung Food Guy!

I have many many comments about my favorite moments (I have two in particular that I'd like to talk about) but I'll leave those for later.

Potatoes are in the past

Cashel had to give a talk in his class about his ancestors and where his family came from. The whole class has to do this project.

He interviewed my parents on the phone (multiple times - he had to call back and FOLLOW UP on a couple of points he wasn't clear on - hahahaha) - and wrote down the answers to his questions about our ancestors ("Where did we come from in Ireland?" "Why did we come to America?" "What did our ancestors do in Ireland?" Etc.).

Then he had to give a talk to the class.

Uhm, what I wouldn't give to have a video tape of the whole thing???

Apparently, he did really well. He gave his talk. And he closed with a bang: He passed out raw potatoes to the entire class. Each student got one. Nothing like a PROP to make history come to life! THIS IS WHAT MY ANCESTORS ATE. EVERY STINKIN' DAY.

hahahahahaha

Go, Cash-man. Good job, little man.

I tried to talk to him about it on the phone today but he wasn't really interested in re-living it. You know ... His whole vibe was: "that's the PAST, Auntie Sheila. I gave the talk THREE DAYS AGO."

I got monosyllabic answers to my questions.

"So how did it go?"
"Good."
"Was it fun?"
"Yes."
"Did people laugh at the potatoes?"
"Yes."

Cashel's got his priorities straight. Live in the PRESENT. But Auntie Sheila, with her pestering questions about an event from ANCIENT HISTORY needs a little work on hers.

Cashel's question

On Saturday, Cashel and Brendan and cousin Mike went to the Santa Barbara Film Festival to see the premiere of Believe in Me - a film starring Jeff Donovan, a good friend - who appears to be on the brink of major stardom. He's been on the brink for a couple years now, actually (uhm, Blair Witch 2, anyone? - but this might be the role that pushes him over the edge. It sounds like a crowd-pleasing film, with a juicy part for him. Very exciting. Cashel has known Jeff since he was born. I mean, Jeff has always been in Cashel's life. Believe in Me sounds like it's sort of A League of Their Own for basketball:

Set in the mid-60's, Believe in Me is the true story of a young man whose coaching dreams seem dashed when he's assigned to the girls' basketball team at a rural high-school, a dead-end at that time, pre "Title IX". Through the course of the movie, the girls and the coach find ways to earn each other's trust, and despite the opposition of the conservative town fathers, learn how to play to win.

Jeff plays the coach. Here's a shot of him in the role. And here's another still from the film. Looks like it could be pretty major!!

So Cashel, Mike, and Bren went to the premiere.

Cashel wore a white shirt with a collar, and a little sports jacket. The thought of this makes my heart crack. The sense of an EVENT. Cashel getting dressed UP.

They watched the film. It was all very exciting. Cashel had a ball - watching his friend JEFF up on the screen!!! Cashel is such a movie-lover anyway, so to be friends with people who are IN THE MOVIES ... is really really cool for him. (I can't get over the image of Cashel in a sports jacket, attending a premiere at the Santa Barbara Film Festival ... but I will move on.)

Afterwards, there was going to be a QA session with the director, producer, and Jeff. Mike and Bren were like, "Bah ... we don't need to go to that ... let's walk around ..." But Cashel said, "Can't we go to the question and answer session?" Mike was like, "Those things are always kinda boring, Cash." Cashel said seriously, "I have a question I'd like to ask."

Well. How can you say no to that??

Bren, as they filed into the big hall, made Cashel tell him the question ... just so he could give his stamp of approval on it. You know, you didn't want him to stand up and ... oh ... make some inflammatory statement about Iraq or something. Or shout, "What's the frequency, Kenneth" and then run out. No, just kidding. You know ... he just wanted to make sure the question was okay, and Cashel was okay with asking it.

They sat in the back of the hall. (Uhm ... Cashel was in a sports jacket. Help.) Of course the place is full of press, and actors, and directors, and studio people ... it's a madhouse. Cashel is 8. He was a part of the group.

Finally they opened it up to questions. Questions being asked and answered ... about the filming of the movie, the locations, the financing, the marketing, distribution questions ... You know. Insider-type questions.

Then the director, up on stage, saw Cashel's little hand way in the back of the hall and called on Cashel.

My heart is cracking in two.

"Yes - you? Do you have a question?"

Cashel shouted out his question, in his small mouse voice. "Was anybody injured during filming?"

hahahahahahahaha

I just love this boy so much. I wish I had been there. Obviously I wasn't - but I have now IMAGINED that I was ...

The director said, (and I want to hug him for being kind) "That's a really good question ... It's hard to make sure that actors aren't injured ... you're right about that ... and so that's why we blah blah blah blah ..." And he proceeded to answer Cashel's question, in detail. Did I mention that I want to HUG this man??

Cashel, wearing a sports jacket, asked a question at a press junket during the Santa Barbara Film Festival.

That's really all I wanted to say.

Cashel's breakthrough

Two days ago, Cashel fell on the playground, and got some scrapes on his face.

This is huge. Cashel has, up until this last year, been a cautious boy, physically. He never ran. He would go up and down stairs slowly, as though he felt that at any moment he would go spinning off into a wormhole if he didn't pay attention. His physical activity came when he would go off into his imaginary world, and have rowdy Jedi fights throughout the apartment. But in terms of sports? It's not Cashel's thing. Because it's too REAL. He would rather catch an IMAGINARY ball than a REAL ball. And in terms of running and jumping and careening about? Never Cashel's thing.

But when I visited him out in Los Angeles - we ran around the track at his school - and I watched him just take OFF, freely running as fast as he could, his little legs whipping back and forth ... with no fear of wormholes sucking him out into the deepest reaches of space or anything like that.

He seems to have had some kind of a breakthrough, in terms of being PHYSICAL.

So he fell! On the playground! This is huge! Throw caution to the wind! Run! Jump! Fall!

Brendan, when he heard about the fall, asked Cashel, "Did you cry?"

Cashel gave Brendan a look like: "Are you insane?" and then said, scoffingly, as though the answer should be SO OBVIOUS: "Of course."

Things experienced so far in LA - part 23

-- Bren and Cash and I came back to Bren's place, absolutely wiped OUT. Actually, Bren and I were the ones who were wiped out. Cashel promptly had to go into a room, lock the door, and re-enact ... movie scenes or something ... This is such recognizable behavior to me. Needing alone time. Fantasy time. I never could just get off the school bus and go running off with my friends. I always needed half an hour at home, decompressing, etc. If you're a cerebral imaginative little kid - then it takes a lot of RESTRAINT to hold all that stuff in check during school hours. It's exhausting. So anyway. Cashel just went NUTS in the other room. The explosions! The laser blasts! The random Jedi commands!

-- I was very entertained by Bren's two roommates. Bren is moving into his own place this week - so I'm glad I got to meet these two gentlemen. I've only heard of them ... but man. They're just both so so nice. Warmed my heart. They just opened their house to me. Both actors, both with a gazillion stories to tell.

-- We sat around and talked about the Inside the Actors Studio show - I regaled them with stories. They regaled me with stories. We DISHED on all of our celebrity encounters. Up close and personal. Half of the stories I am not allowed to tell. Jim started to tell me one, and he suddenly stopped himself and said, "I just realized I'm talking to the press." (hahahaha meaning - my silly blog) Then he said, "Is this OTB?" Off the blog. hahahaha We KEPT saying this over the rest of the night. "Now you're sure this is OTB?"

-- It was great. I really enjoyed the both of them. Really fun. I had heard so much about them, they're basically members of our family - through Mike, through Bren ... they're a big group of working actors out there, and have been friends for years - so it was wonderful meeting them. OTB.

-- It was heartcracking to me to drive off (Larry gave me a ride home) - with Cashel standing in the garage with Bren - waving at our car - and I can hear his little voice shouting, "BYE, AUNTIE SHEILA." I'm in tears right now.

-- The only thing that would have made the whole thing even more perfect would have been if Jean and Siobhan had been out there with us. We missed them both.

-- Alex and I spent our last evening together watching Dark Heart Iron Hand - one of our favorite shows on television. We continuously called it the wrong title. "Dark Head. Iron Glove." "Dark Hand. Iron Weed." Etc.

-- And yesterday morning I left. I drove off into the morning to get myself to the airport. Alex and I had kind of a melancholy parting. I mean, a big hug and everything ... but ... I miss her already. Ouch. I came home last night and wondered where the hell Alex was! We settled right into a great vibe with each other ... It was one of the nicest vacations I've ever had (even that first crazy day!!) But I drove off, waving to Alex, seeing her waving hand out the car window ... and tears started streaming down my face as I catapulted onto the damn 101.

-- I cannot even explain how insane it was ... the 405 ... I just have no words ... and I just stuck to my guns and followed the signs to the airport. I changed lanes. This continues to amaze me. I followed the damn signs. I ignored my instincts. I just followed the signs.

-- The airport was LUNACY. I made my flight with only minutes to spare.

-- Lauren Hutton was sitting in first class. She's just as beautiful and COOL-looking in person as I imagined her to be. Tousled hair, no makeup, showing her age ... but great body ... and wearing huge red and yellow running sneakers. I just love her. Friendly face, too.

-- Hey, Lauren! Whassup???

-- Oh, and Jimmy Connors was on my flight as well.

-- I read Innocents Abroad all the way home. I had a strange hurt in my heart. It was hard to say goodbye to Cashel and Bren, and it hurt to say goodbye to Alex.

-- The weather here has been unseasonably warm. Really no different from LA except wetter. It was rainy when I got off the plane. A rainy dark New York night.

-- It is good to get back to my apartment. To all my things. My bed.

-- I want to buy a Swiffer. I have been using an old-fashioned mop and bucket for years. But through Alex I have learned the error of my ways.

-- Weird: I didn't see the Pacific Ocean once during this trip! I also didn't see Window Boy. He lives out there. Haven't seen him in a couple of years and I thought it would be fun to track him down ... but it didn't end up happening.

-- I have no idea what I'm writing. I miss LA. I miss Alex. I miss Bren and Cash. I miss looking up and seeing mountains - especially at night - the mountains dotted with lights, lights sparkling out into the dark ... Heartcrack. HEARTCRACK. I miss my sisters.

-- A wonderful vacation. I have needed it. True relaxation. True love surrounding me. Not enough time with the cousins ... but that'll also have to wait for next time. I got my eye on Mike and Lisa's guest house.

Things experienced so far in LA - part 22

-- Bren and Cash came and picked me up at Alex's so we could head over to Universal Studios together. It was a bright warm morning. Cashel sat in the back seat, reading a book called Ghosts and Ghoulies. Within 2 seconds of me getting in the car, Cashel began to pontificate on the difference between REGULAR ghosts and POLTERGEISTS. "Poltergeists stay in the house ... and they are tricksters." Cashel said.

-- The studio was like a circus. Throngs of tourists, amazing sights to be seen ... everything artificial and fabulous. Cashel held onto my hand - we were afraid of losing his shortness in the crowd. He wasn't wacky about this, but he submitted peacefully.

-- First, we did the tour. Which was so so fun. Bren, Cash and I sat in the front seat of the little van - Cash sat on the edge. He had done this before, so he was letting me know what would happen. Our guide was wonderful - and I loved glancing down at Cashel and seeing his little face staring up at the guide, listening, laughing, and sometimes his jaw would drop in amazement at this or that little known fact. We saw fake New York streets, we saw fake Parisian streets, we saw fake Western streets - and the doors of the saloons and buildings in the Western streets were often strangely SMALL - they seemed made for Munchkins. This is because the directors wanted to make the star of the movie - the cowboy star - seem taller, bigger, outsized. He dwarfed the doors of the town he was trying to protect! We saw the city hall where many a movie has been filmed ... Our guide showed a ton of clips, where we could see the city hall in all its different guises. We drove through sound stages - we experienced an earthquake while in a San Francisco subway station - which was pretty spectacular. An enormous truck crashed down from the highway above us. A subway car careened at us and then split in half. Cashel was AGOG. Hell, CASHEL was agog? I was agog! We drove through a nighttime New York scene ... and suddenly we were going over a bridge - and there was King Kong, red eyes blazing, shaking the bridge back and forth. Cashel was clinging to me. Uhm, Cashel was clinging to me? I was clinging to Cashel!! We drove by the little Cape Cod town seen in Jaws - and suddenly - floating by us in the water - was the massive shark seen in the film. His name is Bruce. He was named after Spielberg's lawyer. We saw a flash flood. We saw a rainfall created. We drove through one of the sets for The Mummy. We also drove by an enormous plane crash - used in War of the Worlds. That was pretty freaky, I have to say. It was so huge - the plane was in 3 pieces - and it was a scene of total and utter destruction. Carnage. The wreckage still smoking. It's amazing because it LOOKED chaotic - but you know that every single piece of debris was carefully placed.

-- The tour was great. The whole day was great. Cashel kept wanting to talk about it, and kept finding ways to bring it up again. 8 hours later, Cashel was still saying to me, "So Auntie Sheila, what was the most BORING part of the day for you?" "What ws your FAVORITE part of the day?" "What was your LEAST favorite part of the day?" We covered our experience from every possible angle, just in order to KEEP TALKING ABOUT IT. DO NOT LET THE EXPERIENCE DIE. KEEP IT ALIVE.

-- After the tour, we did many many cool things, and saw many many cool sites.

-- Well first, we went to lunch in a huge Western type corral place. There were two wandering cowboy troubadours who went from table to table and took requests. One said to us boastfully, "We know every song ever written. Ask us to play one." The other said boastfully, "We haven't been stumped yet!" I requested "Peace, Love and Understanding" - Elvis Costello. They played it. They said, "Ask us to play any Stones song. Try to make it obscure." Brendan said, "Parachute Man." They played it. Then Cashel made a request. "Could you play Holiday, by Green Day?" And whaddya know ... they didn't know that song. They were stumped!! One of the guys was so funny, he said, "Awesome. Stumped by an 8 year old!" He said his musical tastes stopped in the late 70s and that he was now sinking into the La Brea tar pits of music. hahahahaha Go, Cashel!!

-- After lunch we moved on. We saw: Shrek 4-D - an amaizng interactive experience - we had to wear 3-D glasses, our chairs went this way and that, water sprayed down on us at certain points - there was also a HORRIFYING moment when an "s" suddenly dangled RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME ... and then it attacked - and the chairs were somehow rigged with small wires - so that it seemed as though you were being bitch-slapped by a giant "s". I literally screamed at the top of my lungs. Well, many people did. I was not alone. But Cashel, sitting next to me, wearing his huge bug-eyed green 3-D glasses, literally shook with laughter because of Auntie Sheila's nervous breakdown.

-- Then we went on the virtual reality Back to the Future car ride. It was AWESOME. You feel as though the car is plummeting through space. It was so so fun.

-- Then we went to see Terminator 3-D which, sorry, was reeeeeeeeaaaaallllllly dumb. Cashel said later, "It was kind of boring. Like - the whole thing had no point." Exactly. A discerning boy, that Cashel.

-- We saw Spongebob go skipping by at one point surrounded by bodyguards. Cashel's entire posture changed when he saw him. He became as alert as a mountain lion. That's Spongebob! Then off Cashel went, running to keep up with him. So he could talk to him. It was so funny - Cashel wearing his little hooded Red Sox sweatshirt, his cool wide-wale corduroys - running like a maniac through the crowds chasing after this enormous waving bright yellow sponge. We got our pictures taken with Spongebob.

-- Oh, at one point, Cashel was blithering on and on about the day, and how wonderful it was, how cool the tour was, how great the experience was - and he said the word "minimal". "Even if you just do ONE thing ... even if you just do the MINIMAL ... you're going to have a great time." I love it when he says stuff like that. Bren and I just glance at him over his little head, exchange a look, and then say to him, "You're right Cash. Even doing the minimal amount of stuff ... it's a great tour."

-- As we drove off, we discussed our favorite parts of the tour. Which became an ongoing theme for the rest of the day. We had to KEEP going over it. "I think my favorite part was when we toured the studio. Although Shrek 4-D was pretty cool, too." Etc. We all agreed that Terminator 3-D was a huge letdown.

-- The sun was now getting low in the sky. We were headed back to Bren's ... and they took me to one of their favorite spots. We drove up Mulholland Drive, a maniacal road, with death staring you in the face on one side as the cliff plunges straight down with nary a guard rail to protect you. But the view ... the view ... You just get an eyefull, you really do. It is beyond spectacular. You just can't get that kind of perspective on the city in and around New York. But here - 10 minutes out of the city - are the HOllywood Hills - covered in trails, leading to the tippity top - and you can get to the crests and see all around, 360 degrees. We went to Runyon Canyon Park - and hiked up to the top. We were now at sunset time. The smog, of course, does the most UNBELIEVABLE things to the sunset. It was a wash of brilliant colors - bringing out the hills in stark outline - the palm trees sketched against the gold and pink and purple in black silhouette. Cashel was a good little hiker. We got to the top - a dizzying moment. I had a bit of vertigo. Again, it's just a dirt platform at the top of the hill - with no fence or rail to keep you from plummeting to your death. But the view! There was the Hollywood sign - reflecting the sunset - Oh man. It all just took my breath away. I was so so glad we did that. Cashel climbing up the dirt path, talking to himself, occasional laser blasts emanating from his area ... he knows how to occupy his mind during a boring hike.

-- Then ... we headed back down the hill and went off to rent Back to the Future - which Cashel, amazingly, had never seen. Very exciting.

Things experienced so far in LA - part 16

-- Yesterday was awesome. In the late afternoon, I started off down to Santa Monica to see Maria and Cashel and Brendan. I was going to get to see Cashel's room! His house! Where he lives ... This is what I miss. Seeing him in casual everyday moments.

-- I had to take the 405. By the time I hit the 405, it was dark ... and there was, miraculously, almost no traffic on it. And I have to say - it was kind of exhilarating. There were moments, when coming over hills, and seeing the glittering city below, that I felt like I was flying. It was so so beautiful. Kinda stressful, sure, I mean I don't drive on freeways regularly in my normal life ... but this was fun. I was able to change lanes if I needed to - I went 65, 70 ... I felt comfortable there and nobody was on my ass tormenting me and harassing me and making me feel like I was about to die in a fiery mesh. I blasted the radio. It was wonderful. Just wonderful. I was on my way to see Cashel!! I haven't seen Maria either since this summer ... so I was just really excited.

-- The directions were superb. No wrong turns. (The way home was another story).

-- I got out of the car. The night was almost cold. I loved the feel of the air. It was a dark shadowy peaceful neighborhood - with beautiful little vine-covered houses lining the street. Vine-covered houses, yes ... but most of them had that kind of early mission-style architecture ... just so adorable. I was walking back to find Maria's house ... and I crossed over one street - kind of wider than the others - and it's lined with palm trees - up and down the street - way way up into the darkness - Just the kind of image that makes me just stop and stare up. How beautiful. The palm trees give the entire place such a whimsical air ... I love them. Like, I'm not "over" them yet. I still just get the giggles when I see a palm tree. But this one street was just beautiful - no cars coming either way, the streets dark and peaceful - with the palm trees quivering high high overhead.

-- And then there I was - in Maria's living room. I was so happy!!!! Cashel sat at the table, doing his homework. Very grumpy. You know. Homework's tough when you're 8. Bren was there. Maria gave me the grand tour. Her place is adorable. She was hanging curtains in her room. Billowy white curtains with blue and green flowers on it - very sunshiny and homey. Maria said, "I can offer you ... some water ... some orange juice ... or some sherry." hahahaha We decided to go out to dinner to a new place that Maria was excited about.

-- And off we went. Cashel chattered up a storm, naturally, the entire way there. Oh, and I got to see the letter Cashel got from George Lucas' secretary which is now framed on his wall. So cute!!! Cashel must have written a letter to LucasFilm - he asked a question about the upcoming Star Wars TV series ... in 2007 ... and the letter that came back was so adorable. "Dear Cashel: Thank you so much for writing to us and thank you so much for being a great fan ..." (That's hilarious. LIke they're lacking for fans! But still - so sweet!!!) Then the secretary went forward to talk about "George's" new projects. So that was very exciting. I think Cashel was proud of it.

-- There was a 20 minute wait for a table, so we decided to go over and see Cashel's school which was nearby. This, for me, was almost the most exciting part of the trip so far. To see Cashel's school! The place where he spends the majority of his time! I was so excited. It was night - but we were able to wander around the playground. It was so so fun.

-- Bren, Cash and I had a race around the track. Cash has turned into a good runner. He used to be so cautious physically that he would go up and down stairs slowly, putting both feet on each step at the same time. But now? There he was, charging off into the cool night ... and when he could feel us gaining on him ... he picked up the speed. It was like the O'Malley version of Chariots of Fire.

-- Cashel is really "cool", you know ... but I could tell he was excited to show me stuff. He was also really excited to be there AT NIGHT. He kept saying, "Watch this ... we aren't allowed to do this during the daytime ..." and he ran up a random set of stairs. He was thrilled to do things that "we aren't allowed to do during the daytime." He stood on top of a picnic table, and did a little tap dance. "We aren't allowed to do this during the day time!" He was HYSTERICAL with laughter. Literally falling all over himself with laughter as he got off the picnic table. What a thrill. He got to show me his room. I don't know ... I got a little choked up. Imagining Cashel, my little Cashel, in school, doing his thing, getting his education ... Man. It's amazing!

-- Cashel's school is really beautiful. White and blue stucco, murals everywhere ... I got a very good vibe from it. I'm really happy for the little guy.

-- We went back to the place, which is called BABALU - I thought of you, Val!! - and yet again: I was so impressed by the calm and kind customer service. This is just my impression, so it could be wrong: but it seems that the only time when people from LA are categorically ASSHOLES is when they drive. Other than that? Everyone is nice, friendly, helpful, mellow ... it is SUCH a delight. Like our waitress was this adorable girl who helped Maria figure out what Cashel would want to have to drink. "We have lemonade ... we have a sort of organic ginger ale ... but ... you know ... kids are always like: Organic? What??" It was very cute. So Cashel got some lemonade. Anyway: I just want to say to the people of LA, especially all of you who are in some kind of service-oriented job: GO, YOU. To say that this is NOT the case in New York City is an understatement. However, I have stated my theory on all of that before: It is not that Manhattan-ites are rude. It is that we are ON TOP of each other and we are all OBSESSED with manners. We have to be FIERCE about our boundaries because we cannot get away from each other. People from LA can get the hell away from each other, because they have to get in their cars, and drive around ... and so their public personas, when they bump up against humanity, seems to be universally friendly and helpful. It's really refreshing.

-- Cashel told us about his idea for a movie. It is called The Egg Heist and it is about a colony of ants who get tired of their queen and decide to start a new colony - so they have to steal all the eggs in their existing colony and transport them to a new location to start anew. I ask, "What's wrong with the queen?" Cashel shrugged and says casually, "She's a tyrant." I see. He starts to tell us the individual scenes - the ants go to pick disguises before the heist - and much hilarity ensues. One poor ant is obviously not the brightest bulb so he picks out an ant costume!! Cashel said, shaking with laughter, "So he still looks just like himself!!" The heist itself is a mastermind of technology. The ants have human-size duffel bags that they have to haul into the egg chamber ... Cashel found this image supremely amusing. Tiny ants with massive duffel bags. I think it could be a hit, actually. The Egg Heist. Coming in 2010.

-- Cashel made a joke. Instead of saying "barroom brawl", wouldn't it be funny if school kids called their fights "lunchroom brawls"?

-- He explained the intricacies of his relationships. How he is going to tell his two friends how to deal with the school bully. "I am going to stand up for my friends ... but I will not fight. I am just going to tell them to IGNORE him." Maria validated this choice. Oh, how complex it is to be a child. Isn't it?? So amazing.

-- The food was delicious. Cashel enjoyed his chicken kebobs. Which is a miracle in and of itself.

-- We headed back to the house. Cashel was now launching into telling us about the play they were working on for school - a play for Ancestor Day. When they all learn about their ancestors and act stuff out. Maria said, "So Cash - will you be Finn McCool?" I said, "Or Cuchalain?" Cashel said, "No. I'm a Greek immigrant named George." What? hahahahaha Cashel kept fantasizing about adding a scene to the play where George immediately stabs himself with a pencil upon getting off the boat at Ellis Island. "Hi! My name is George! I'm from Greece! My family came through Ellis Island." STABBED WITH A PENCIL. Many fake deaths occurred on the sidewalk on the way home. Cashel staggering around, moaning, and then collapsing into laughter. Poor George, the immigrant from Greece. He obviously has some emotional problems.

-- Once we got home, it was time for Cashel to go to bed. And I got to read to him for a while before bedtime. Which I used to do when he lived in Brooklyn ... so it just made me soo damn happy to lie on the bed with Cash, his little PJd body propped up beside me, reading out loud to him. We read 4 chapters of Treasure Island which Cashel has already read, but - as we all know - you can never read that book enough. I said, "Maybe we'll read 2 chapters, okay?" Cashel insisted, "The chapters are really short, Auntie Sheila. Let's read 4." When I came to the end of the first chapter, Cashel said triumphantly, "See how short that was???" It was fun. We got to the point where Jim Hawkins and his mother take the coins owed to them from the dead captain's sea chest ... and they flee into the "frosty evening" - from the approaching one-legged guy, tap-tapping his stick leg on the walk. Terrifying!! But it was so fun - I wish it wasn't so late, so I could have kept reading.

-- Then ... lights out.

-- Maria and I hung her curtains. They look great. Bren had taken off. Maria and I hung out in her living room, talking ... she starts a new job today ... we talked about the short novel I wrote that she read ... It was interesting - I kind of put that book away in a drawer ... haven't looked at it in over a year ... so talking about it, and trying to hash stuff out, was really really interesting - and I think I need to take that book out and work on it again. Talking about it was really helpful.

-- Then we took out a book of pictures of Cashel as a baby and pored over it. His day of birth. The newborn ... on his birthday ... Halloween ... wrapped up in an orange silk pumpkin costume. The pictures of Cashel as a fat-legged little smiley drooling baby. His face still looks the same ... but he was so little! When the heck did THAT happen? Now he's a movie mogul planning his next project called The Egg Heist ... was he ever that grinning toothless creature?? Amazing!!!!

-- And then ... it was 11:00 pm ... and I started off to go home.

-- Of course I have no idea what my rental car even looks like and I completely LOST it on the street. I walked up and down ... enjoying the cool air, and the palm-tree street ... but I was like ... tiptoing over the grass to peer at license plates ... I was peeking through darkened windows ... My behavior looked EXTREMELY suspicious. But finally I found my car. And off I went into the glittering already-going-to-sleep Los Angeles night.

Things experienced so far in LA - part 11

- Sunday was my day to meet up with Bren and Cash. I woke up early and felt unbelievably refreshed. After the mania of the day before. I made some coffee, it was early, and I sat on the couch and read some of Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad which I have never read and which I am absolutely adoring. I am laughing OUT LOUD reading the damn thing. Bren called at 10 ... and I said I would be over in an hour or so. Let's try this driving down the 101 thing again, shall we???

-- Alex emerged from her beauty sleep right before I left. She said, "Lemme tell you something. If any disaster occurs to you today?" Pause. "Don't call me." It's been 2 days now and we are STILL laughing about that first day.

-- And off I go into the sunblasted gorgeous morning. Here I go! Look at me! In my Enterprise car! Careening down the 101!!!!!! Again!!!!! Now, though, I feel like I have had a great trial run with that first debacle of a drive, and nothing can shake me up now. I blast music. I enjoy the scenery. I change lanes. I am AWESOME.

-- 25 minutes after leaving Alex's, I pull up outside Bren's apartment. It is a beautiful neighborhood, peaceful, thick grass lawns, big trees, old buildings. I am about to see Cashel! In his natural habitat!

-- Bren lets me into his apartment. It is cool, big, and beautiful. Bren says to me immediately, "Sheil ... " (and I could see immediately from his face that a game was about to be played) "I'm really sorry, but Cashel was here a while ago and now I have no idea where he is." I say, concerned, "What?? But I really want to see him! Where did he go?" Bren, all sorry and sad, "I don't know ... but I can't find him anywh---" and then Cashel burst out of Brendan's room screaming and jumping up and down. To surprise me. I screamed, accordingly. Cashel was very happy about that. He immediately launched into what he WISHED he would have done - and that had something to do with spiders. The boy loves to taunt me. He said to me, slyly, "Auntie Sheila, have you seen King Kong?" I say, "No." He said, to me, seriously, as though he was some jowly cigar-smoking career advisor, "I really don't think you should see it." "Why, Cash?" "Because ... well ... there's a looooooootta bugs in it." "Oh no. Really?" "Yup. A looooooootta bugs." "Thanks for the warning, Cash. I really don't want to see a lotta bugs."

-- I met Bren's roommate and really good friend Larry - I have heard so much about this man, my parents love him, everyone loves him - so it was SO nice to put a face to the name. What a nice man.

-- Bren and Cash took me up to the roof so I could see. There's an outdoor pool up there. A deck with deck chairs. Tables. And a view like you would not believe. It was so beautiful that my breath caught in my throat. I want to hang out up there with my laptop and my dawn coffee. The palm trees just careen up into the air, above the horizon - giving a strange Dr. Seuss-ish appeal to the landscape - and right there was a huge hill with the HOLLYWOOD sign. The Hollywood sign! It was all just beautiful. Cashel, in his little fleece sweatshirt, and sneakers, kind of strolled around the pool, telling me how the water is heated and how sometimes he swims there. I, as always, struggle with my desire to SQUEEZE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF CASHEL. I have to calm down. He's such a little cutie. I was so happy.

-- We drove to a nearby strip of shops and cafes - and Bren showed me the sights along the way. The apartment complex that was Mae West's after she retired - she would walk around the apartments and collect the rent. Can you imagine if Mae West was your landlord? And then Jack Haley's house - built like a ship. It looks like a ship - an ocean liner of a house - made of a light light green stone. You know what I also love about LA? The architecture. I love the OLD neon - you know? The kind of 50s style neon - big, brash, and retro. I also love the signs up on top of the old hotels - El Royale - or whatever - and these are not neon - but just swirly letters held up into the sky with steel poles. New York just doesn't have signage like that anymore.

-- We stroll the sidewalks. I am so happy to be with my family. I am so happy to see my brother and to be with Cashel. We sit and have lunch. We eat pizza. We overhear a couple next to us having an amazing conversation. Snippets that came to us: (oh, and it was only the girl that spoke. That poor guy) Anyway, here's some of what we overheard: "Anyone who thinks that Jesus had a son has mental problems." "I used to black out all the time in my 20s. I'd have a couple of drinks and then just black out." Bren might remember more. The three of us would be chatting, having a nice time, then there'd be a pause and some random snippet would come to us - stopping Bren and I in our tracks.

-- Back at Bren's place, we watch the films of two plays Bren did this past year in LA. Plays written and directed by Larry. Cashel said, rolling his eyes, "I have seen these so many times." Ah, yes, Cashel, to have your father be an actor ... what a BORE. But of course Cashel kept coming into the room for his favorite parts. He sat on Bren's lap, and I would glance over and see Cashel laughing, his little body shaking like a bowlful of jelly. They were GREAT. Truly funny and original pieces of work. Wonderful actors ... and the SCRIPTS! I love funny people. I love people whose minds work in comedic ways. It was great to see my brother acting again, as well. He's so good.

-- Alex and I were supposed to go horseback riding that night. Some thing where you ride horses and then have dinner at the Sunset Ranch. We literally had no idea what we were doing. We knew nothing. I mentioned to Larry what we were doing, and he knew all about it - said they do it every year - and you ride up the cliff by the Hollywood sign. So ... this will be an up and down journey. This will not be a flat-surface horse ride. I call Alex to tell her what I found out. She has a fear of heights (and it's debilitating - it's like me with "s"s) - and FLIPPED OUT. "I can't do that. No. I would cry and also pee a little bit." "And then you would have to be airlifted off the top of the cliff." "No. I cannot do this. I am so sorry, Sheila ..." "Oh God, no worries. If you said to me, 'Let's go hang out at the Tarantula Museum' I would say - ABSOLUTELY NOT." "Okay. I'm calling Meg." So horseback riding was out!

-- Bren had to take off at 3 ... so we all parted ways. I drove off down Cahuenga - waving goodbye to my brother and my nephew - Cashel's little head silhouetted in the backseat. Heartcrack!!

-- I was home at Alex's in 25 minutes. A miracle.

Joy is:

-- listening to Cashel babble at me about Buster Keaton and why Buster Keaton is so funny. (He got a couple of Buster Keaton movies for Christmas). "Auntie, Sheila, he never shows any expression on his face. He is always like this." Cashel did a poker face. "But then sometimes, he goes like this." Cashel made a huge shocked face, with a wide-open mouth.

-- watching Cashel make Christmas cards for all of us. We each got a different one - and he tailored each one to our personality. That's a lot of work for an 8 year old boy. Mine came in the form of a military broadcast - which I just think is so hysterical (and appropriate - seeing as I had Imperial Grunts in my bookbag at that very moment). He said to me, "Yours is kind of military, Auntie Sheila." "Oh, wow. That's so cool." I said. Here is what it said (I will re-create his spelling - he is a very good speller, but you know, nobody's perfect):

News Brodcast:
Shhhkk. "Is that radio on? Okay, this is Lehsac Yellamo and there's a sleigh raid approaching O'Malley Ville! And here comes Auntie Sheila's batch !!!!

Merry Xmas
From Cash, Bren and Mel.

This is the best Christmas card I have ever received.

"Lehsac Yellamo" is obviously backwards-speak, an O'Malley tradition brought to new heights by my brother Nadnerb. Nadnerb has clearly passed on this talent to his son Lehsac.

-- For Jean's card, because Jean is a teacher, Cashel purposefully misspelled every word. As he was writing the card, sitting at the table (Jean and Pat hadn't arrived yet), he literally shook with laughter, like a little bowlful of jelly. It began: "Deer Onty Jeen ..." and it kind of just went from there. The card ended with: "Pee Ess. Sennd mee aye tootr." Cashel, man - you know what? That's pretty damn funny.

-- For Pat's card, Cashel made every other word be "dude". hahahahaha

-- Siobhan's card referenced the "Christmas Hannuka Kwanzaa express"

etc. The cards were genius.

-- Jean sat with Cashel reading out loud to him from the big Calvin & Hobbes book she gave him for Christmas. She did all the voices. Cashel's laughter - his true spontaneous laugh - is the best sound in the world.

-- It was so great to be all together. Melody's apartment is adorable - but we sure were all just crammed in there. A constant reshuffling had to occur - chairs moved into rooms, chairs to be moved if someone had to step out ... etc. But her place is adorable, and it made me want to move into Manhattan proper. Maybe next year.

-- Cashel looks so different with his big-boy teeth.

-- I got to see the blow-up R2D2 chair. It is the coolest thing ever.

-- We ordered pizza. Mum heated up the lasagna she brought. Bren and Dad went out and got a couple bottles of wine. We sat around in Melody's kitchen and just feasted. It was beautiful.

Reunion

When Cashel lived in Park Slope, his best friend was a kid named Jack. This was not JUST a best friend. This was a kindred spirit. I only met Jack once, at one of Cashel's birthday parties - he was dressed as Obi Wan Kenobi - and I already just loved the kid, because Cashel loved him so much. Their main bond was Star Wars.

It's really hard when you love Star Wars MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE ON THE PLANET. It can be a very lonely position. If you love Star Wars MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE ON THE PLANET then it's truly painful to not have anyone to share it with. It's jarring to hear someone say, "Yeah, it was a good movie, but I liked Harry Potter better..." Ouch! What do you DO when you love Star Wars MORE THAN ANYBODY ELSE ON THE PLANET? But thankfully, Cash and Jack never had that problem. They were absolutely in sync in their adoration of all things Star Wars.

Cashel, occasionally, would wax eloquent about the relationship.

He said to my parents once, point blank, "The first time I met Jack, I could see the twinkle of Star Wars in his eyes."

I am not kidding.

They were 6 years old the last time they saw each other. That is an eternity. Cashel moved far far away. But he never forgot Jack. He made new friends in his new schools. But if you asked him, "Who's your best friend?" he would say, with a faraway look in his eye, "Jack." It was hard for Cashel to move away. But you know, kids are survivors. Cashel survived.

Occasionally, Cashel and Jack would have looooooong phone conversations - of course arranged by their mothers. They were still, after all, little boys, who didn't just pick up the phone, and blithely dial phone numbers. They would stay on the phone, and just talk about Star Wars. What more does one need from friendship.

I fully credit the parents of both children, too, for helping this tiny friendship stay alive. Jack's mom always made sure that Jack sent Cash a birthday card. And Cashel's parents did the same with Cash.

So even though Cashel and Jack, two WEE LITTLE BOYS, were a continent apart - they still were friends. I remember saying once to Cash, "I bet you and Jack will be friends still when you're grown-up men." Cash gave me a look that I just will not forget. So funny. He got this quizzical expression - his eyebrows wrinkled up - he had simply never contemplated being an adult. And in the next second, he just started LAUGHING at the idea of Jack as a grown-up, and himself as a grown-up. It was incomprehensible.

Once I was speaking with Cashel, and I mentioned that it was a blizzard in NYC. Cashel immediatley gasped - yes - he gasped - and said, "I hope Jack's okay."

hahaha It's alllll about Jack. "I'm sure Jack is fine, sweetheart."

Two weeks ago, my brother called Jack's mom to let her know that he and Cash would be in town the week after Christmas - and maybe they could arrange a reunion for their kindred spirit sons? Who had not seen each other in TWO YEARS? Jack's mom got all kind of emotional - and said that just the week before Jack had written an essay in school about "his best friend Cashel" (trying to picture the 8 year old handwriting - it just KILLS me). Jack's mom told Bren that everyone in his class just accepts that Jack's best friend is Cashel who lives across the country. Jack has other friends - he is a personable friendly little boy - but everyone knows that you can only have ONE best friend.

I just got word that last night was the lo