Or, "Why is there a Colon Hydrotherapy Salon on every corner?"
So far, I guess I can't complain. The weather has been blissfully beautiful--mid 80's and not a trace of humidity. Ethan fell asleep last night before 7pm and slept until almost 7am, and I did almost as well, for the first time in 90 days. These are basic things that tend to make one feel like they can cope, no matter where they are (within reason, I guess)--nice weather and a decent night's sleep.
The other thing assuaging my anxiety is the fact that, well, there are a lot of the trappings of "home" here, at least in the way of retail therapy. In the past 24 hours I've been to Target (twice. shut up. It's an illness, people), Old Navy, Macy's, and California Pizza Kitchen. Amazingly enough, we did avoid Starbucks today in favor of trying out the Coffee Beanery, an establishment that, locally, is almost as sickeningly ubiquitous as Starbucks. But really, it's just a coffee shop dreaming of being Starbuck, same as Caribou Coffee; you've seen one, you've seen them all.
It's hard to feel like a stranger in a strange land when you can walk into a Target you've never been to, 3000 miles away from the Targets you've frequented for the past eight years and, after a few seconds of getting your bearings, know where everything is located from the toys to the dish soap. I saw a bag in Virginia a few days ago and told myself that if I found it out in LA, I could buy it. I found it. It's mine. How's that for feeling at home?
Speaking of feeling at home, our child has fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with our house. Probably because it's empty and echo-y and he can run around it now without bumping into anything except a cat desperately trying to avoid him. Oh, and while Husband was living there a few weeks ago (with nothing but a few towels and an air mattress), he happened to buy a package of popcicles which currently remain the only form of sustenance in the house (with the exception of cat food). So now when we pull up to the house, Ethan bellows from the backseat, "Bicycle!! Bicycle!!" This is how he says, "popcicle". Take a minute to imagine how fun it was for us to try to figure out what the hell he was talking about when he first started saying that. "What do you mean, bicycle??!! We don't have bicycles!! You dont' know what a bicycle is!!! What are you talking about, for the love of God!!!"
Anyway, with all that space to roam and a freezer full of bicycles, Ethan thinks our new house is heaven on earth. This is lovely while we're there or on our way there. It is, however, not so lovely when we are trying to leave the house or when we dare to mention the hotel. "NO hotel! NO hotel!" he insists, increasingly weepy, from the back seat. Um. Sorry, kiddo. That's where they've got the beds. And our suitcases of stuff. So hotel it is, my love.
So far we've basically only shuttled back and forth between Studio City and Burbank and I"m convinced that everyone within these two towns must have perfect fingernails and immaculate colons. And they work in film production in some way, shape or form. And they eat almost exclusively Mexican food and donuts (perhaps hence the need for the colonic cleanings?). The streets from our hotel to Studio City are lined with nothing but (okay, I'm exaggerating, but not by much) nail salons, donut shops (from the airplane yesterday I actually saw us flying over a giant donut atop a donut shop), Mexican eateries, video production companies and "colon hydrotherapy salons". One salon front sign even claims "private, gentle cleansings". Um. I think when the issue at hand is a hose up one's butt, the word "gentle" has NO place in the description. I know they say you can lose up to five pounds from one cleansing alone, but you know what? I think I'll just try to run those pounds off. Running is far less frightening to my ass.
That's about it from me tonight; at this time last night I was drooling on my hotel couch and had to haul my butt (un-high-colonic'd, thank you very much) to my hotel bed. This evening, I feel far more prepared to see 9pm PST. We'll see how it goes.