A Jew at St. Johns...

First of all, exciting news. Another James Brown child has been confirmed. That brings the total so far to nine. I think it's time to take bets.

They called me from the hospital today to ask questions and tell me what to expect. The first question, "Do you have a will or a living trust?" Was not the most comforting of questions but I answered that and then they told me not bring any valuables. Which is quite a bummer since I have a couple paintings I really love and thought they might look good amidst the dull colors of the hospital walls. Possibly a Klimpt. But I won't be bringing those now and in fact she told me not to bring anything and that was rather disconcerting. "Not even my toothbrush?" "Nope. Won't be needing that." Okay, is it just me or does that sound eerily ominous. "You won't be needing anything from now on..." Actually, she didn't say that but it SOUNDED like she said that. Don't these people have a heart? They are talking to a human here who is about to have her stomach cut open. I said that to her, the part about the stomach and she said, with great compassion...

"Uh huh."

Well, I hung up and I started thinking about how lucky I am to have so many friends. I have my theater friends, my Academy Award Chick friends, dog walking friends, book group, writing group, swimming pool friends, yoga friends, Virginia Avenue friends, our kids went to the same school friends, high school friends, camp friends, temple friends, did we sleep together once friends, did we want to sleep together once friends, work friends, store friends....

So that's a lot of friends which is why I am asking you two things...Please DO NOT visit me in the hospital. If you all come I will pull the tube out of my nose and probably start making appetizers and that would not be good. I really will be fine and on morphine so God knows what I might say to you. Second thing...Again, no flowers, no presents but if you want to send fifteen dollars to The Virginia Avenue Project, that would be great. I am so ready for this except...

PRODUCTS! She told me not to bring anything but I'm telling you, if I have even a moment of consciousness on the second day I KNOW I will want to put on some moisturizer. Am I going to have to sneak that in? Contraband moisturizer? Dammit, I'm going to do it. And I'll need a candle and a bottle of Ketel One. You think that's allowed? Why the fuck not?! Come on, I have cancer for Pete sake! Let the girl have some fun. Vodka and morphine, Can you think of a better combination. Sort of a cosmopol....................(See, you take a sip of the drink, push the morphine button and you're out cold before you state the name of your drink.) Oh, to hell with what the hospital lady said. I am going to bring everything that comforts me into my room. Clive Owen, for instance. I just look at that guy and I relax. That's it! I am going to visualize Clive Owen right before anesthesia. Who cares about a stream in Colorado or the Pacific Ocean on a sunny day. I want to dream about Clive Owen on a sunny day. Ah yes, I can feel the pressure lifting already. See, you can't follow all the rules because they just don't make sense to everyone. We are not all exactly the same. A martini after surgery might disgust some people. (And if you are one of those people please know that we have very little in common.) Some might not think of moisturizer right before they are going to cut the shit out of them. It might seem frivolous at a time like this. But what is life if not frivolous. Who among us has not purchased something they didn't really need? And what the hell am I talking about?

Oh, it's been another crazy insurance day, quickly saved by some very nice people who helped me out, and I wasn't going to talk about insurance because it is boring and I've been there done that but I think that is what has my brain in a...

Nest?

You know what, I am going to begin to pack right now. That hospital woman does not know me and if she thinks I am going to walk in there without a purse, (a purse full of products) she's nuts.

Quick story...For one year my half Jew of a son went to St. Matthews school in the Palisades. Don't ask me why. Long story. Has to do with David Chase of all people. Anyway I told my dad who was a good Jew, that the name of the school was SIR Matthews (not that saint would have bothered him.) And he never questioned that. Although he always told me that Sir Matthews seemed like a very strange name for a school.

Hmmmm, I have a really small painting that I like. You think?.....................