Okay, I don’t believe the universe is telling me only chaos exists outside of my perfect Venice oasis. I believe it is telling me to roll with the proverbial punches. Stop trying to control it all. Chill the fuck out.

I mean, just now I let the painters in to the house. Brought boo to his friend Luc’s house to have a final playdate with him and Lindsay. Picked up a gallon of taupe paint. Dropped it at the house. Purchased a latte and final, nostalgic, delicious multigrain and triberry scones at Threesquare on Abbot Kinney. Raced to the 3rd Street Promenade for my appointment at the Genius Bar.

Turns out I didn’t have an appointment at 9:45am. It’s for 9:45 PM. Tonight. As in when boo’s breathing puppy dog breaths in his crib, I’m watching Scarface on Netflix and my parents are out partying. As in when I have no intention of schlepping to the 3rd Street Promenade to get a diagnosis on my computer.

See what I’m saying? The world has been throwing shit like this at me for days.

Wednesday I met the floor guys at the house at 8. Called boo’s doctor to see if they could squeeze him in for a vaccine. They said yes—the universe can also send fortuitous surprises. We grabbed Threesquare scones since both of us were grumpy with hunger and booked it over to Montana. Boo got a shot and a cute, soccer ball bandaid and I called the floor guys to see when they’d be done. They said 12:30. It was now about 10. I scratched my head, tried in vain to call my parents for advisement. Wondered if I should run boo up to the Palisades for his nap or keep him up until after I’d finished with the floor guys. Changed my mind six times. Headed back to Venice, dialing Gretchen’s number on the way. She said, “come over, we’ll play,” yay, relief, a plan. Stopped by Whole Foods to get boo lunch. Parked the car. Turned around to announce that yay, he’d get to drive a shopping cart that looked like a car! And he was fast asleep.

Change of plans. Meaning we park in front of the house and wait. And resign ourselves to killing time in Venice until our weekly beachmamas play party at 3:30. In five hours. Call my mom. Call Harlan’s mom. Chat with my neighbor (whom the economy has forced to take an architecture job in Hong Kong, leaving his wife and two small children here, without him, in Venice. Guess things could be worse).

When boo woke up, we moved into Killing Time Mode again. Grabbed beet salad, Israeli couscous and chicken salad with grapes and butternut squash at Lemonade—exactly the same thing I ate there last time, ’cause it’s so good I’m an addict—and watermelon-rosemary lemonade. Ran by Barnes & Noble to try to return a book with no receipt. Was unsuccessful. Tried looking for a book for the plane. Wanted Commencement about a group of reuniting Smith Students, but couldn’t remember the title and the salesguy had no idea what I was talking about. While trying to find it, Harlan called and I got yelled at my some old woman who said she couldn’t hear herself think. Told her it was a bookstore not a library and stormed out bookless to get boo a yogurt and myself a vanilla ice blended at Coffee Bean and Tealeaf. Drove back to Cabrillo to pay the floor guys even though they got stain on the baseboards. Walked over to Gretchen and Nona’s. Ate leftover book group Cha Cha Chicken and sangria and got a little loopy and told Gretchen my theory that the universe is forcing me to improvise, telling me to chill the fuck out and go with it, baby, just ride the wave. Took boo to the beach and met up with the beachmamas and their beautiful babies and played in the sand and swung on the swings and chased trucks and admired the perfect blue waves crashing on the Venice sand.

It’s a screwy time for us and I can’t try to arrange everything to my liking. It’s just not gonna work that way. Further proof: Yesterday we learned that the truck carrying our furniture only left LA yesterday. Meaning we’re likely going to arrive to an empty house. We’ll have to sleep on an air mattress. Boo will sleep in the pack ‘n’ play. The cats will have nowhere to hide but big empty closets. I stressed out, couldn’t sleep, tried to change our plane tickets only to learn that it would cost $1400 ’cause the fares have gone up. Resigned myself to letting it happen the way it’s going to happen. No one is going to make this easy on us. No one at all. It’s up to us not to care! To laugh and hold on to each other and enjoy the rollicking, mindbending, ludicrous ride.

Beachmamas and babes

Beachmamas and babes

Happy boy swinging all by himself

Happy boy swinging all by himself

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