What is a good friend?

Let's see....a good friend is one who calls me up to make sure I don't miss John Prine (and our talented and wonderful friend Jason WIlbur) on Austin City Limits....and who has driven by our future house a few times (just as I have) just to check out how it looks at different times of the day! And, well, who meets me day after day at the Y at the unbelievable hour of 7 a.m. so we can work out together (even when she has the discipline to go on her own but I don't!) Thanks, Malinda! Now back to John Prine and that glass of red wine....it's such a thrill to see Jason on TV! Life is good.

Mom on a Mission -- accomplished!

For a month or so, I've been meaning to write an entry called "Mom on a mission." A good friend told me that she felt the same way when house-hunting -- absolutely obsessed. And I was. I looked at lots of houses -- some that were really lovely, and much more expensive than the one we are buying. But none of them really felt like "home." I told Jordie that there are lots of plastic-looking beige-box totally-carpeted houses out there, with manicured lawns...for lots of money. NOT us!

Well, I thought for awhile that the house on the corner of Wimbleton and High felt right, but I was mesmerized by the fabulous kitchen. I mean, a really, really fabulous kitchen with a big kitchen island, slide-out pantry shelves, double built-in ovens. I was in love with that kitchen.

However, the house was on the corner of High Street, and Jordie could not envision living there.

But we both loved the Sycamore Knolls neighborhood....and our friends Deb Galyan and Mike Wilkerson emailed me that we should get in touch with their friend Catherine, whose house would be on the market soon. And we did.

At first, I was not in love with Catherine's house. The kitchen is perfectly nice and homey, but not .... well... fabulous. And, only one oven. And the windows in the living room are regular windows, and I am used to huge windows. And, the fireplace in the living room doesn't have a mantle. BUT, everything else about that house is really, really good. Beautiful paint jobs throughout. Walk-out doors from the downstairs family room. Fireplaces upstairs and downstairs. A really nice deck, surrounded by two magnificent pine trees -- it feels magical to be on that deck. And the backyard is surrounded by trees, mostly pines. And the most darling little tube skylights in the kitchen and one of the bathrooms. Two walk-in closets. The carpets are fine, and the living room and dining room have hardwood floors. She really has done a great job taking care of that house.

And the second time we were there, I had kind of gotten over the fabulous kitchen in the other house...and I noticed, while Jordie and I were just looking around there....that it felt like home. I told him that, even though it is a much bigger house than his parents' house in New Jersey, that the feeling of being there was so reminiscent of 21 Walter Avnue.

And he started saying "Did you notice that whenever you look out of a window in this house, you see trees?"

And so we began talking about "when" and not "if."

So, in April, 2033 South Montclair Avenue will be our new home.

Now, there ARE a few things I'd like to do...I'd like to put in dark-green granite countertops, knock out the wall between the kitchen and dining room, put in a kitchen island with dark-green countertop, put a new mantle and fireplace surround in the living room, with tile....and make the two windows in the front living room wall bigger, and casement style...or maybe one really big bay window with a window seat! I'll post some photos of the house below so you can see it.

My car/myself

Five minutes to record this week in my life. My car -- why talk about my car? It's reflective of my life at this point. The wayback has a big trash bag full of metal cupholder things, left behind at our house by Adam. For some reason, he wants these things. I first moved the bag to a spot near the front door to wait for Adam, then, when the pest control people were called to come to nip a flea problem early, I had to clear the floor. (Actually, I think the pest control people thought they didn't even have to come, but I saw it as a preventive measure.) So, the bag came out to the car. Also in the wayback are clothes I have for Salvation Army. Also, several boxes of assorted Adam stuff, which I picked up from the floor in the room formerly-known-as-Adam's and which has now become a TV/family room again. At least now one can walk across the floor! But the stuff is in my car. Also, a little bookshelf which folds, and which has been sitting in our hallway since before Passover last April. I told Adam either he takes it or I will give it to someone at the HT or the Salvation Army. In the back seat, two bags of sweet potatoes, waiting for me to get up at 5 in the morning, when I will make maple mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese and saute some veggies for a pasta dish. Also in the back seat are several sections of last Sunday's New York Times, which, to no one's surprise, I have not read yet. Also in the back seat is a pile of Adam's clothes, which have come out of the dryer and are waiting for him to take them. Also in the back seat is Abby's math book, which she didn't need today, but she might have needed after school when I picked her up to come to the HT after school so that I could take her to her dance class at 5:15.

My desk is piled just about as badly as my car, and it has been so busy that I keep forgetting what I am doing -- in the middle of doing something.

I haven't thought of an "icebreaker" for the potluck dinner tomorrow night -- for which I am in charge. But, I think it will be just as good to circulate and talk to people....

I am exhausted, and nothing seems like much of a problem. Too tired to worry. Just take care of one thing at a time.

My car/myself.

Just common sense, I think

I've seen that MoveOn.org has a website, hurricanehousing.org, for people to offer and search for temporary housing. They recommend within 300 miles of the affected area.

And I've sent this letter to the NY Times, USA Today, and the papers in Atlanta, Montgomery, Jackson, Houston, Austin and San Antonio. I think it's just common sense.

To the editor:

Why on earth doesn't every hotel and/or apartment
complex in Louisana and surrounding states give a
couple of rooms to hurricane refugees for the
duration? Surely the businesses could deduct these
expenses as a charitable donation on their taxes and
they'd still be making a profit. Then people would
have privacy, telephones, a chance to start their
lives over again. Businesses in the area of each hotel
or apartment complex would, I'm sure, gladly help
those beginning over again with some donations of
clothes, supplies, even jobs. Children could go to
area schools.

Having thousands of people grouped together, as they
are doing in Houston, has to be maddening and
difficult, no matter how hard people are trying to
keep it organized.

Finding ways to give the survivors privacy, dignity
and a little tranquillity would be better.

Lynne Foster Shifriss
4420 N. Benton Court
Bloomington, IN 47408

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?

That's the question in the play "Our Town," when Emily, a young mother who has just died in childbirth, is given the opportunity to go back to life for just one day. She chooses her 12th birthday. And she watches as her family is preoccupied with trivial stuff, too busy to even really pay attention to each other. Emily says to her mother (although her mother cannot hear Emily's spirit) "Just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another..."

I think the answer that Emily got in the play was that perhaps poets are the only ones who realize life (and, in my words, see the eternity, the goldenness, in normal moments).

Yesterday, Amalia and I went to the urgent care place, to see the doctor who had originally sent her to the hospital for tests, and he is a wonderful guy. Dr. Morris Mesler, I think. Old and friendly and willing to answer questions. We should have gone back to him in the first place, but the hospital nurses had told Amalia to see the doctor who saw her in the hospital. Anyway, he looked at her lab results, explained them (all is well), checked her out, and said "I told your husband on the phone that you didn't need to come out here, but if you heard how she was sounding, I don't blame you a bit for getting on a plane." He even gave her a hug as we were leaving. He explained that she would be weak and tired for a few days, and that was normal-- that being sick like that burns thousands of calories. He told her to drink gatorade and take vitamins and rest.

So, it was a beautiful day, she was feeling so much better, and we drove around a little, looking at some beautiful houses in Larchmont, Beverly Hills. We drove over to Westwood Village, by UCLA's campus, and had ice cream at a little place -- they sell a two-cookie ice cream sandwich for a dollar!

I took her to Target and bought her some stuff. Then, we came home and took naps, then later we ate more vegetable soup and watched a DVD. We talked to Jordie and Abby and my mom on the phone. Adam had called earlier. I left a message for my sister. Amalia's boss at Starbucks told her to only come back to work Monday if she feels up to it -- that they miss her a lot, but she shouldn't push it. (I feel like sending a present to that wonderful woman.)

I am filled with a sense of really appreciating that afternoon yesterday. A sense that I really do understand just how wonderful a normal, trivial day really is. Driving around in the sunshine, eating ice cream, watching a DVD. Talking to our family.

Maybe I can really focus, in the future, on really looking at the people in my life, and, as Emily says, realizing life while I live it. I think I have said this before. I may have even written it before in an earlier post on this blog. But when will I GET it?

I woke this morning with a sense of profound gratitude. That's a start.

Whooping Cough Saga

This week, which I can easily say has been one of the NOT happiest of my life, is a lesson: do not ever, ever, ever let your child be without medical insurance!

In some short-sighted belief that people must do without when they are young and just out of college, we let Amalia's medical coverage lapse. She had a job at a Jewish community center for awhile when she moved to LA, but then was lucky enough to get a job at Starbucks, which is an employer that is great in the benefits it offers. (And actually, in the time that Amalia has been sick, her boss at Starbucks has been great in flexibility and understanding as well.)

BUT, the upshot is that until Sept. 1, Amalia is not covered by medical insurance. And that has only added and multiplied to the nightmare of this week...

Last week, Amalia was diagnosed with whooping cough. She was at urgent care over on Ventura Blvd. A really nice doctor there prescribed antibiotics, which cost $87. After four days, she still was not better. She talked to the nice doctor and he asked her to come back in. He sent her to the hospital for tests. They admitted her, with whooping cough and pneumonia. After just 24 hours on intraveneous antibiotics, she was much, much better. Jordan had to guarantee $5,000 over the phone, and the bill might end up being twice that.

I arrived in LA Tuesday night. I had to come. When I arrived, she was just getting released from the hospital. The nurses there told her to make a follow-up appointment with the woman doctor who had seen her in the hospital for all of two minutes. That woman doctor prescribed some more antibiotics. Amalia called and made the follow-up appt.

When we arrived at the woman doctor's office this afternoon, the doctor's nurse said that the doctor would not see her, because Amalia does not have insurance. She also said that the doctor said that she did not need to have a follow-up appt. I was saying "I have cash. I will pay for this appt." but that was to no avail. The doctor's nurse said that Amalia should not go back to work until all the medicine is gone. Amalia said "Oh, I thought I would be able to go back to work on Monday." So the doctor's nurse did a note for Amalia to give to work, saying that she could come back to work Monday.

We walked to Tarzana Med Center next door to pick up Amalia's lab results, because she does not have a doctor to send them to. But we don't know what they mean. It looks like she is OK, but we're not sure.

So, I am at Amalia's house. It is Thursday night. She is still weak and tired. She called to reschedule an acting showcase that she was supposed to do tonight, because she is not in shape to do it. I am supposed to fly home Saturday afternoon. We are going to the urgent care center tomorrow morning so that we can try to have Amalia see the nice guy doctor. We ASSUME that she is no longer contagious, because she has been on antibiotics for a week and because they told her, as she left the hospital, that she didn't have to wear a mask anymore. We don't know how she should expect to feel. We don't know if she should or shouldn't go back to work Monday.

So, I made vegetable soup for her and got yogurts, which are good to eat when one has been on antibiotics. And I am just wondering what else I can do. I guess I feel that I just want some ANSWERS before I leave. I cannot stand to call and hear her sounding weak and out of it (although that was in part due to being on codeine cough medicine last week). And she is no longer whooping, at least.

So I am one bummed-out mama tonight. I'm so glad that I came out, because, as one friend said "Sometimes you just need your mother." But I wish there were more I could do.