Writer's Block

Well I guess I've painted myself into a corner haven't I? I have a ton of stuff -- good stuff -- to write about but I don't want my friends and family to be reading about themselves, now do I?

For example, I have the two great friends, Romy and Michele. You've seen their High School reunion? They have graciously included me in their group of friends who hang out at the exotic Highway Cafe. And I mean exotic! We meet late on Friday night before the karaoke starts at 10:00. I never would have thought that I’d be hanging out on karaoke night, but there I am having a great time -- okay, not always great but I always enjoy myself. Romy sings and Michele watches. Romy is an excellent singer -- does great on Amy Winehouse stuff. There are other new acquaintances of course. Donny the mild mannered nice guy is always a pleasure to be around, even though he speaks so quietly that I usually nod and smile a lot with no fucking clue what he said. He sings to -- King of the Road is a favorite of his. Oh yes, and dances! Usually Marsha and Tommy come by as well. I think they are newly housemates. And there are loads of other people whom I can't make up names for because I barely know their real names.

My big problem with the place is smoke -- but what would I rather do: Sit home in a smoke free environment or be with friends at the bar? I can wash the smoke out of my clothes but I don't have nearly as much fun with imaginary friends at home. Pause . . .

Okay, I've been thinking about parenting as a topic for blogging -- my god, I just used the word blogging - and now I have a segue into it: imaginary friends. My kids had imaginary friends, but Rob’s was the best. His name was Brian and he was really well developed. He was amazingly real, except for the minor detail that we could never see him. We knew exactly where Brian lived because as we drove down the street near our house, Rob (well then he was Robbie) pointed out where Brian lived. Brian and Rob used to do all kinds of stuff together and when they were done, Brain went home. When Brain had done his time and needed to go, he didn’t just cease to exist. He moved to California. We know because we stopped at his house and when I said I was going up to knock on the door, Rob told me that Brain had moved . . . we never heard from Brain again. The point is that nothing in the universe beats being a parent. Yes I admit adolescence is shitty, but the rest is great. Now that my kids are young adults, or Chris’s case, adult period, I am finding out that this is just as great as when they are little. My personal favorites are two year olds. Forget that terrible two’s stuff. Nothing beats talking with a two year old. They are so bright and full of wonder and clarity. If you just talk TO them and not AT them, you’d be amazed at how lucid the conversation can be. Kids are a wonder.

Back at the bar, kids aren’t allowed. Well, people under twenty-one aren’t allowed in. There are lots of kids there. Lots of genuine salt-of-the-earth people. Very comfortable – so far. People watching is good. Last week Dancing Cindy and her husband were there. Regrettably Dancing Cindy, who did not wear her underwear on the outside, sorry to say, did not dance or sing. However her husband serenaded us with sounds that made you look up and say “Why?”

Romy and I used to work together – I was her boss. She has been the best friend imaginable. I’ve been away from work for two years now and we still have lunch almost every week. She’s terrific. Michele is Romy’s best friend from always and has been terrific to me. She is interested (or pretends to be in a very convincing way) in my adventures and we have yoga class with Marsha and Tommy. She knows my son -- remember him? Brian’s friend.

So that is the best I can do at dancing around the surface – the real nitty gritty goes in The Book. See you at the bar!