Things experienced so far in LA, part 1

— Well, first of all, it is always AWESOME to leave New York and then to find that someone flew his plane into a building while I was away. That just gives me a great great feeling of safety and stability. I remember a couple of years ago I was gone during the blackout – and I watched the chaos on television – and even though it looked awful, and even though we watched the CROWDS of people walking home over the Brooklyn Bridge (we were looking for Melody) – I wished I was there. It’s MY city. I don’t want to be away when anything happens to it. Now that we know it was Cory Lidle – and – who the heck knows what happened – it’s all very bizarre. But I signed on at some point yesterday – and saw the pictures from the news – of a building in flames – Words can’t describe what I felt. Naturally, I immediately went to CW’s blog – because he’s the go-to guy in terms of planes – and was really happy to read his post about it. Just because. His attitude is so clear, and so informational. I appreciate his perspective, as always. But I wish I had been there. If anything happens to that damn city again, I need to be there when it goes down.

— My flight out of JFK left at 7 a.m. So I slept over Allison’s – and took a car service from there. It was insane – because the car came to get me at 5 a.m. so we woke up at 4:30. Now … I would have been perfectly happy to sneak around her apartment at 4:30, getting my act together on my own – but that is not the kind of friend Allison is. Allison got up with me, and while I got my stuff together (forgetting my damn alarm clock, in the process) – she made me a huge cup of cappuccino – with steamed milk – AND she added a dollop of chocolate syrup in the shape of a heart on top of all of it. It was the sweetest thing EVER. And the cappuccino definitely jumpstarted me to where I needed to be. Emotionally and metaphysically. Especially because of my stupid pharmacalogical issues right now. That cappuccino was a godsent!!

— Driving through my dark deserted city streets … and then over the bridge into Brooklyn … the lights of Wall Street shining, of course … the river dark and invisible below … Nobody out. The fire escapes gleaming dark and silent against all of the buildings, the metal gates shut on all of the storefronts … I am almost never out in New York at that hour of the night (and if I am then I have pretty much been UP all night) – and I love to see it in that mood. It’s a private mood, slightly creepy, that’s the hour when horrible shit goes down, when the crazies run the show. But still, I love to see the city in all its moods.

— Oh, and funny moment: As I got ready to leave, Allison put on New York 1. Her confused dog (“why is everyone up? Who is this girl staying with us? Why are we awake now??”) lay at Allison’s feet on her bed, his head in his paws, his eyes open and blinking, in complete bafflement. At one point there was a commercial for the Mel Gibson interview on Good Morning America – and the music accompanying the commercial was so momentous, portentous and tremendous that it was laughable. As though we all are waiting with baited breath to hear what the raging anti-Semite has to say. (“I have no idea where those words came from.” “Dude, they came from your anti-Semitic bigot mind. It’s very simple.”) But anyway, the commercial was ludicrous and Allison flipped out. I was packing up my bag, and she started shouting at the television: “Uhm … how ’bout NORTH KOREA? HOW ‘BOUT WE TREAT THAT AS IMPORTANT? WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT MEL GIBSON??” I did not respond, because it was 4:45 am … although I completely agree with her. But my point is that there was a pause after her outburst. Allison must have glanced down at her poor dog … and seen him look up at her, with worried eyes. Allison then narrated his inner thought process, “Not only is she awake at some weird hour … but she’s really angry right now …” I am still laughing about that. The poor dog. Why is she yelling at the television and it’s still dark out????? WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY STABLE LIFE AND MY ROUTINE? WHAT IS GOING ON ???

— Jet Blue is an awesome airline.

— Jet Blue is an awesome airline.

— I read The Historian during my flight – when I wasn’t sleeping, that is. But it was a feverish jittery kind of sleep, due to the cappucino, the Dunkin Donuts, and all the rest. But it was good – I can’t put The Historian down. I wouldn’t call it great writing – it’s not really my type of book (it’s ALL PLOT … almost no character development – even though it’s a first-person narration) … and I love books about characters, I love books that develop people into three-dimensional living breathing creatures … However: the plot of this book is QUITE interesting and certainly keeps me interested. I love the whole Eastern European setting (cold war, the end days of socialism) … and I love, too, the whole literary detective plot. It’s like Possession (only without the three-dimensional character development). I’m enjoying it, though. It’s a rollicking read, and I can’t wait to get back to it. As a matter of fact, the book is calling to me across the room right now. “PICK ME UP, PICK ME UP.”

— We land in Long Beach. Which is one of the cutest airports I have ever seen in my life. Not as cute as the Shannon Airport in Ireland – but then again, what is?? Long Beach Airport is almost like a little Fred Flintstone set – surrounded by palm trees. And maybe because I grew up near the ocean – but I can feel the nearness of the ocean there. It’s in the air. You can feel the heaving mass of the Pacific right beyond that horizon … it’s right there. Also, I love how you get off the plane and go down a flight of steps, into the open air. There’s no retractable gate. You disembark onto the airfield. I love that. The airport itself is tiny, manageable – and feels so much like a beach community. I can’t describe it any other way. You just know the beach is near.

— I picked up my car. Now I had a lot of fear about this. I have not had good experiences driving in LA. To say the least. Ahem. Ahem. It’s not that I’m paranoid, or a scaredy-cat. It is that my experiences have SUCKED and I have learned my lessons. However: I pick up my cute little car. And I get my directions – and off I go. Heading for the 405.

— And: NOTHING BAD HAPPENED.

— I shrieked up the 405 (God, what an ugly stretch of road, man oh man), there was no traffic, I was able to change lanes, I was alert for my exit, I was able to be flexible, and move when I needed to, nobody rode my ass, and I basically was a driving ROCK STAR.

— I got off on the 10 and then followed my brother’s spectacular directions. His directions should win an Academy Award. I’m quite serious. I’ve driven a bunch in LA now and I always get lost at some point. Because the freeway signs suck to a degree that cannot quite be described. There is no warning. You drive along, knowing you are NEAR where you need to go, and suddenly 8 lines careen off to the left, with signs saying; GO NOW – TURN TURN TURN TURN TURN … and suddenly you are in the position of having to careen across 4 lanes of traffic, everyone going 80 mph and up, to make your exit. HOWEVER: this time, nothing like that happened. I calmly made my exit. I calmly did what I needed to do. I almost got onto the 10 going the wrong way (again, because the signage sucked so bad) – but was able to correct myself without killing anybody or myself.

— I parked my car. The day was beautiful. The palm trees feathery and still against the blue sky. Also, the air is chill, which I love. A nice cool breeze. Just the most beautiful weather you could imagine. At this point, it’s about 4 pm for me … but it was mid-day here. I was thinking of going to the beach – before I had to get Cashel at school – but then just figured I would wander around for a couple of hours, grab a bite to eat, whatever. Sadly, I was a grub-ball of the highest order. My hair in a messy ponytail, with bobby pins clamping down the wild strands, my skin was pale and completely unmoisturized (I moisturize my skin probably 3 times a day – it’s like flossing for me) – but sadly, the security dude had confiscated my lotion. Because I’m a moron and had packed it anyway. Oh, and another funny thing – as the security dude at JFK was going thru my stuff – he started asking me questions about my laptop. At first I thought I was in trouble, that that was why he was asking me about it … like … for some reaosn you’re not allowed to travel with a Macbook without first getting permission from the NSA or something. But then I realized that no, he was thinking of buying one himself, and he wondered what I thought about it. Hahahaha, so I sat there, putting my shoes back on, as he confiscated my lotion, my saline solution for my eyes, my Ben Gay (which, I admit with some shame, I am addicted to), and also my hair conditioner. But all the while we’re talking about Mac, and whether or not I like my computer. Funny moment.

— But anyway, back to the most important thing. My dry skin. Okay, so I left my stuff in the car – and set off for the main drag, basically to walk around, window-shop, buy some moisturizer, and get some food. The day was spectacular. I looked down one of the long avenues, and just reveled in the sight of the symmetrically placed phalanx of palm trees. They’re so whimsical, I just love them.

— Once I was on the main drag – in my Adidas T-shirt, my sweat pants, and my hi-top sneakers, I realized how underdressed I was. I felt like a homeless person. As a matter of fact, I kept running into this obviously insane Hispanic guy, up and down the street, and he kept hailing me as though I were his old friend. He obviously thought that I was homeless too. “Hey, lady!” (Then he would belch as he passed me. Seriously. Ew.)

— I walked by Cashel’s school, and recess was going on – I felt like a crazy stalker Auntie – but I did look for him on the playground. Didn’t see him. Bought some food. Ate it. Bought some moisturizer. Slathered it over my face AS I WALKED DOWN THE STREET. Oh well, what do I care. I actually WAS homeless, in that moment. No need to be ashamed of it.

— At 2:30, I went to Cashel’s school to pick him up. I was so excited!! I was excited to see him in his glasses, but also excited to see him in his environment, to see him in an everyday way – not just as a visitor. Brendan had called the school to tell them I would be coming. The ladies in the office were absolutely lovely. I loved them all, and I loved the feeling there. There were schedules, and posters up … people coming and going … the principal having meetings in her office – little tiny kids with enormous backpacks coming in and asking if they could use the phone. It was just a really nice elementary school vibe. I remember the “ladies in the office” from when I went to school – they are SO much a part of why schools run, how they GO. They were so sweet – asking me about my trip, and if I had been to LA before, etc. Sweet. They told me that Cashel knew I was coming and that he would come to the office when his class got out.

— And before I knew it – there was his grinning bespectacled face peering in at me. He had on a camouflage hoodie, so he looked like a gangster. Except with adorable silver-framed glasses. He had that smile he has sometimes … when he’s really happy … but maybe he’s afraid to show it? Especially in public? Maybe he has to hold himself back? It was so cute. So so good to see him. The ladies in the office waved us off, “Have fun! Nice to meet you!!” and then Cashel and I set off for home. As though this was perfectly normal.

— We walked along and he told me about his day at school. “When you’re in kindergarten and you’re learning to read,” he informed me, with the wisdom of the ages in his voice, “it’s like it’s all NEW and you’re learning somehting NEW every day. But now it’s just the same old thing every day.” Same ol’ same ol’. Cashel’s over it. He’s 8 years old and he’s over it. He looks back with longing on the ancient days of his kindergarten years … when everything seemed NEW and not so tired and old as it is now.

— Cashel told me jokes as we walked along. He would warn me beforehand. “This one is kind of inappropriate.” hahahaha He KEPT saying that word. So obviously it has been drilled into his head: “Some jokes are not appropriate to be told at school” or whatever. But of course I’m the auntie. I’m not here to be all, “Be appropriate”. So I said, “Jokes are supposed to be inappropriate. Tell it.” There were jokes involving boogers. There were jokes involving people who ate flies but THOUGHT they were raisins. Etc. I loved hearing his little frenzied excited voice telling me the joke. “So once there was a guy …” There’s something timeless about grade school humor. I love it. I love, too, how he kind of knows about joke DELIVERY. He knows about the “ba-dum-ching” energy that needs to be created. So I’m listening to him ramble on and on towards the punchline, but I can hear echoes of “Who’s On First” in his tone. Assimilation of all that has come before.

— I asked, “So are you taking any afterschool programs now?” He said, with his little glasses on (oh, and they become sunglasses as if by magic when you’re outside – so they were now sunglasses, and he had on this hoodie – and he totally looked like a little ghetto kid – it was hysterical) – “I take a hip-hop class.” To hear him say that – with his whole Eminem look in that moment – – was hysterical. It was also hysterical, in general, to imagine Cashel hip-hop dancing. He said he didn’t like that class very much though. He also took a cartooning class after school and he was MUCH more into that one. He draws comics all the time. It’s his thing. “I also take yoga, and I really like that,” he informed me calmly. Uhm, Cashel doing yoga. I almost had a heart attack.

— We arrived home, finally – and then there was a whole debacle involving a key – that was supposed to be in Cashel’s backpack but was … not there. Cashel immediately got really upset – he was panicked – and it made my heart crack to see. I also wanted to get into the apartment, of course I did, but I had to remain calm, and NOT do what I wanted to do, which was moan, “Oh God … NOW WHAT??” But Cashel was sooooo upset. Poor little ghetto boy. I called Bren – turns out there had been a mix-up – blah blah – and Bren had the key. He and Melody were going to drive down to get it to us. It would probably be 45 minutes. So Cashel and I set out to go get some food, maybe hang out a bit, as we waited. Cashel bounced back from his panic … but it was heart-rending for me to see how quickly he went there. It totally was not his fault – it was a mix-up in the GROWN-UP world, not his … but he still felt really bad about it. Good little boy.

— I found a diner on Wilshire, and we sat down. When we first walked in, we both started laughing because standing right at the door, by the cashier, was a jittery skeleton, with rattling teeth, and he was dressed in a long black robe. Cashel loved that. And I chose a booth which had spider-webs draped over it, with a couple of pipe-cleaner “s”s hanging over us. I would NEVER have chosen that seat if I were alone, but I thought it might cheer Cashel up to see his Auntie Sheila become a freakazoid maniac. He loves that I’m scared of “s”s. As a matter of fact, he drew me a card with a huge hairy “s” on it and sent it to me in the mail. Now that’s love. So we sat in the booth, and I could see Cashel, with this huge delighted grin on his face, watching for signs of insanity to come out of me. He made his fingers into little creepy-crawly “s”s and had them come at me across the table. I batted them away with the menu and Cashel burst into laughter. Naturally this was what we had to keep repeating, over and over. It never got old.

— We ordered root beer and some food.

— I asked him if we should start his homework now – and he said no, because he didn’t have a pencil. I said, “I have a pen!” He shook his head solemnly. “You have to do it in pencil.” Of course you do. It’s a learning experience … especially with math. You do it in pencil, so you can erase. Nothing is irrevocable in pencil … you can correct your work.

— Brendan and Melody showed up – and it was so great to see them both!! They’re both so busy right now, with rehearsing and stuff – that I might not have seen them otherwise. They both looked beautiful, smiling and happy and together. Nobody else was in the diner but us 4 – and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Here we all are. In a diner. Together. My family. These people are all my family. At one point I caught Melody looking longingly at my fries. It was just a quick glance, I saw her eyes just flit over the plate of fries that I was not eating, and then she moved on with whatever she was saying. I said, “Uhm, want a fry, Melody?” We just roared. Melody was like, “You saw that look??? hahahahahaha”. I love my family.

— At some point in here, I talked with Michael, and we laughed hysterically about the upcoming Liza trip (“Was this planned, or …” hahahahaha) and talked about his acting class, and the accordion, and how ridiculous that was, and it was good to talk to him. After the Michaelpalooza of the last couple weeks (Allison’s word) – it was good to hear his voice. Oh, and Reds is playing out here too – so he got to see it. He had never seen it before so we had a great talk about that. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.

— Bren drove Cashel and me (is that right, Dad??) back to the apartment – and now we had the key – and now we were inside. Yay!!!

— So. First things first. We had to sit down and do Cashel’s homework. What is Cashel working on now? Word problems. And he was already nervous and upset about it. It’s a new concept, brand new … and he didn’t feel like he could do it. He didn’t know HOW to do it. And, uhm, you’re comin’ to the wrong girl for help, bro … but the amazing thing about it was (and I am sure parents experience this all the time with their kids – these weird time-travel moments, seeing yourself in your kid, etc. – very wild): It was not an option for me to be like, “Dude, I’m so bad at math. You’re on your own.” Or I suppose I could have … but I couldn’t have lived with myself otherwise. Cashel was upset and didn’t even know how to start. I stared at the word problems – and my life flashed before my eyes. I saw my horrible 4th grade teacher, who shamed me about my lack of understanding in math (she would send me out into the hall to work on stuff BY MYSELF – I remember the sweat pouring down my face as I sat in the hall, alone, staring at fractions, and feeling – literally – like I was the most isolated person on the planet) – but also – the whole word problem thing had always been a total block for me. I would always get sidetracked by the STORY in the word problem, and forget about the math. “So 2 trains are heading towards each other on the same track ….” Little Sheila interrupts, “Well, one of them has to get off that track and fast!” Like – I just didn’t get it. It was all about the STORY for me. And I would look at a word problem and literally feel my whole brain go to mush. i couldn’t figure it out … worst feeling in the world. so anyway, here is Cashel struggling with the same thing. And he had kind of a meltdown about it. And I took him in my lap and told him that this was all new stuff, and he would not be perfect at it right away, and that we would work on it, and figure it out together. (In my head I’m thinking: WE WILL???) But I had this strange kind of space-time continuum moment … knowing that my father had comforted me in the same way, when I was little and upset about word problems … and that there I was, doing the same thing with Cash-man. And this is what is great about it: Cashel figured it out. He started remembering some of the clues his teacher had given him about how to go about these … and then before you know it, there Cashel is adding up random numbers across the page – and by trial and error, coming to the right one. I was SO PROUD of him. He got himself together. He had a meltdown, totally understandable – and then he got himself together. Another thing I was really impressed by was: I said, at one point, when the meltdown threatened to turn the entire apartment into a swirling pit of lava, “How ’bout we try the rest of your homework and then come back to this?” He had all these other math problems at the bottom of the page, too – but they were all multiplication and addition (adding up dollars and cents, and stuff like that) – stuff that Cashel finds easy. He knows how to do that stuff. But the word problems are new … and they hovered over his entire consciousness like a thick black cloud. He had even mentioned it on the way home, how upset he was about this homework, and how he didn’t know how to do it. But anyway, when I said, “Want to do the rest of your homework and come back to this?” Cashel said firmly, “No. Because I need to do this first so I don’t have to think about it anymore.” Good job.

— When he completed the 4 word problems, we hi-fived and cheered.

— Then Cash took a well-deserved break, and sat watching some cartoons on his computer. Shaking with laughter.

— I cooked him dinner. I loved glancing over and seeing his little smiling face, looking at the cartoons.

— Then there was more homework. He sat at the table, with his pencil gripped in his hand, working things out on his own. I checked email. We were silent, working on our own things. It was great to be there.

— And one of the best sounds in the world was later – when Cash was lying in bed reading – and I was out in the living room, reading The Historian – and Cash was reading Captain Underpants and literally GUFFAWING in his room. There would be silence – and then I’d hear this random guffaw – hahahaha Great sound. He’s a good boy.

— I absolutely love Wireless. I brought my computer, I plug it in the wall, and I am able to get online. It is truly a miracle. There was some news item about McDreamy and Burke getting into a fist fight on the set of Grey’s Anatomy and I forwarded it to Bill immediately. Knowing he would understand.

— Oh, and before Cashel went to bed, we went to the Lego website and had a BLAST clicking around, watching these hysterical Lego videos. The one about Han Solo’s friends trying to rescue his carbonite-frozen body made us howl. Cashel knows his way around – leaning over my shoulder to click on the right buttons … I love that. He is Mr. Lego. Oh, and we also found the video of the Lego version of the World Cup which we had seen during Cashel’s sleepover at my house – it was so funny – we tracked it down and got to watch it again. It’s genius – we watched it a couple of times.

— Oh, and as we were working on the word problems, and things were getting pretty, shall we say, intense – I decided to lighten the mood a bit. The first problem was about how Gina drove 450 miles in 2 days – but she drove 50 miles more on one day – and so how many miles did she drive on THIS day as opposed to THAT day? I said, quietly, “The answer to this problem is: ‘Gina is a horrible driver.'” Cashel could not get over it. He had leftover tears on his face – but he just BURST into laughter, and pretended to write it down on his homework sheet, repeating, out loud, “Gina is a horrible driver….”

— More to come, but that’s enough for now. I loved waking up this morning and seeing the slant of dawn light across the white stucco building across the way. Just a piercingly beautiful sight.