I went to therapy! Wooo hoo! And while many wouldn’t think this is so fabulous, nor would they brag about it, I love it. It means I’m taking care of myself. For one hour, I am fortunate enough to have insurance to cover my venting and rambling to someone who will listen without judgement.
Sam is awesome. With his penchant for hipster jeans and rockabilly Hawaiian shirts, he’s best described as a drug free Jimmy Buffet. He doesn’t take me too seriously, which means I don’t take myself too seriously, and within moments of my diatribe about tics, elitist casting directors who came to my house yesterday to “consider” us for a J.C. Penny shoot only to not say “please” or “thank you”, and let’s not forget neurotic whining about my book and sleep issues, he’s laughing.
This makes me laugh.
And then he checks his calendar. “Hey, you’ll be here next week also, right?”
“Yup,” I responded back.
“According to my notes, you are due for your period that week, so I’ll just assume that you’ll be back to bitch mode.”
I’m so glad he makes $100/hour to give me crap.
In addition to therapeuTIC goodness, I sold some things on Ebay. I visited a very cool theatre when I dropped off Miss L to her Annie Jr. rehearsal. My husband decided to give me his extra flying miles to go to New York for a weekend (anyone out there near NY and want to meet for coffee?) and I was assigned the CHICAGO review at the Pantages Theatre for next week by my local paper editor.
I don’t get paid for the article, but I get two orchestra seats at $85/pop to watch Christi Brinkley channel Roxie Hart.
Hooray for the turnaround!
* Photo taken of the kids on Sunday. God bless good friends, bbq, and CA sunshine.
Love you all. Life can be awesome so don’t forget to find the magic.