Wednesday, August 22, 2007


I apologize for not writing yesterday but those five tenths of a second that I spent with the man with no name were so exhausting that I lay in bed smoking an air cigarette (which is like an air guitar except with the possibility of air lung cancer) and I just savored the moment, the incredibly teeny tiny moment until I actually had to get dressed and go for my pre-op exam. Ah, that nasty little thing called "real life" seems to always get in the way of the most marvelous dreams. According to my exam everything looks good but my doctor told me that I would have to spend all of my time eating since I would only be able to eat food the size of a raisin! I cannot imagine taking twenty four hours to eat a banana. However, if I do not follow these instructions something with the most horrific moniker will happen to me. Something called...


I do not have to tell you what that means but imagine my horror when I heard those words attached to the words, "Unfortunately you might experience something called..." Which says to me that going on a date anywhere three feet from my toilet is just not going to happen. Spontaneous dumping. Can't a girl have at least a tiny bit of dignity? "Yes, I'd love to go out with you but I can only eat an olive and I have to sit just outside of the ladies room." Is this what my life has really become? And the answer is..."Yes, Trish. Welcome to another new club. The Spontaneous Dumpers. Or, the SDs as we like to refer to ourselves."

It just feels so good to belong to something. Can't wait to get my SD tee shirt and mug.

Saw a preview of a movie about Gustav Klimpt starring John Malkovich. (Think I might miss this one.) But I thought of this funny line that for some reason made me laugh so hard. It was in a Rodney Dangerfield movie and he was at a party and a woman came over to him and said, "Come here, I'd love to show you my Klimpt." And of course he rolled his eyes and I think I have lost it because I'm laughing even now.

When someone you love leaves you alone in the driveway it's hard enough, but when there is someone younger waiting in another driveway, it just makes you feel like a homely piece of crap. You spend months thinking you are such a loser. You're old and you're unattractive and you are just waaaaaay over that hill. I'm trying to hold myself together but, come on, I'm no spring chicken (Oh, no, the strangled chicken thing again.) And my plumbing does not work exactly like it used to. Like when you see a really nice looking house that is advertised as "mid-century" you know that the first thing you are going to do is replace the plumbing. But the house is so well built and looks great and has character and, of course, has those wonderful solid old bones. (I have solid old bones but unfortunately they have a bit of osteoporosis. Hey, I'm mid century, what do you expect?) So maybe you check out one of those cool new houses in Venice which look so fabulous and modern from the outside but you go inside and everything is made out of crap. You can put your hand right through the wall. Oh sure, the outside is all orange and blue and fiery and exciting but inside...she's completely unsubstantial.

IT, I mean, IT is completely unsubstantial. (Did you really think I was that bitchy? Did I really think I was that bitchy? Oh, the things we discover when we're under duress.)

Actually, I would like to be under anything right now except for duress. A blanket, a person, anything.

Oh my gosh, what to take to the hospital! I've only got a few days to get my wardrobe together. I'm telling you, if it's not one thing...............

1 comment:

nancyd said...

O Trash Sedgewick--news does travel eventually. Yesterday I learned that my sister doesn't and you do. I don't like the getting older thing. Our bodies seem to be betraying us. Bill and I are here and I know everyone is saying this, but if there IS anything we can do for you....please let us know. Dennis and Deirdre know we're still in the book. And I can cook gud. Custard? Pudding? scones? you bet. We have a lot of history, don't we. I hope your Will is hanging in. Where is he? How is he? Our Matt is fine and an interesting to you across not so many miles. nancy hickey d