The Silver Lining
October 11, 2005

This is a beautiful morning, which I would have missed had we abandoned the Sox-mania and hit London and Paris. I am somewhat embarrassed after 27 years of marriage that I did not see the cancellation of our journey coming, but I am not pouting. I love being at home; I love the steady and sort of boring pace of my life. I am a passive and content person. Wherever I am is the best place to be. Therefore, thinking of Europe required me to adopt an obsessive preparation: I have DK guide books, tiny umbrellas, French phrase books, walking shoes, layered clothing and rain gear. I have a new tote bag and a travel purse with a steel wire in the strap. I ordered European service for my cell phone. My computer has a zillion bookmarks: 3 days in London, What not to miss in Paris. It will all keep. Another of my bookmarks informed me that it is 72 degrees in London today, with sunny skies. In fact, this week is going to be fabulous, with the exception of Wednesday, when we would be on a train to Paris. I am not torturing myself, I am detaching.

In fact, I read this weekend that Michael Jackson is staying at the hotel we had booked. Now that would be too weird for me. Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson are attempting to patch their tattered, over-exposed marriage together in London, too. Perhaps we are not jet set enough for Merry Old England. At least we fit in as White Sox fans.

The trip cancellation has allowed me to enjoy my Halloween decor, and the last gasp of beauty from my flowers. The little garden I planted with Pat in May has overtaken my frogs-spitting water fountain. I send him pictures of it as it explodes, because it is a connection.

The other benefit of being here involves my eldest boy. Pat has been working on a sit-com that was aborted last Friday. He was a writer’s assistant, which at least put him in proximity to the creative process. Most of the effort is in transcription and collation, with a dose of personal service. His duties would wind up in 3 weeks, obscuring his chances of seeing much post season play. Two things may change that.

First, the Angels might beat New York tin the 5th meeting, putting a few games in his backyard.

Second, he called Sunday and reported that he has a broken finger on his right hand: while trying to colonize 16-inch softball in Los Angeles, he wrecked his “big man” finger. There will be a constant obscene gesture for at least 6 weeks, as a splint will be required to coax the tendon back upon the bone. If not, he will require surgery to put in a pin. Needless to say, this reduces his value to the late, lamented Thick and Thin sitcom. He called as he headed home from the emergency room, and was his cheery, reassuring self. As a remote Mom, I could do nothing to help him except google to locate a 24-hour pharmacy where he could grab his stash of 12 vicodin. I found a Rite-Aid in Hollywood, and he was off to take care of business. Though there is no functional benefit to me being in the USA, I just feel better. He is 24, and has his girlfriend in LA, but I am still (and first) a mom. I am glad I was there to express my sadness, and concern. I am glad I could direct him to the pharmacy. (Note to readers: get sick on Sunday at your own peril….or become a pharmacist. There are not too many pharmacies open on the Lord’s Day!)