The Black Bali Sea

I find myself in Bali.
A tropical paradise. An island teaming with life. An eco system working like mad in crazed but perfect harmony. The cats of Bali are in heat. And the flying bugs here love to eat me. I tell my traveling partner, Mark, it is because I am so sweet.
"I'M not getting bitten!" he declares in his superior,gay voice - a derisive tone to say the least.
"That's because you're so bitter." I reply sweetly. (Mark is always referring to himself as a 'bitter gay man').
He chuckles. "Well, maybe so.."

A petite brown woman with a long pony tail of jet black hair, wearing a Winnie the pooh shirt has just approached me at breakfast.
"Good morning." she says in a beautiful Balinese accent (they roll their r's in a lovely way) "How was your sleep last night?"
I smile back at her wanly,"It was ok..." I say.
She can tell I'm full of it. "You did not sleep well?" she asks, concerned.
"Oh, it's just me. It's not this place....I...I have trouble sleeping." I confess, feeling like a freak. I say this to her as I am sitting in the cafe of a mountain side hotel, perched high above the Bali Sea - a plate of exotic fruit being brought to me before the words have even left my mouth. How could I NOT sleep in a paradise such as this? And as a pot of steaming hot Bali coffee is put before me, it is all I can do not to throw my arms around her and burst into tears.
I want to go home.
I'm tired of tropical paradise and villas and bungalows. I love it here - but I can't sleep.The worms make an assault on my room, and when it's not worms it's roaches or mosquitos. I am so sleepy and tired - I just want to back home and sleep in my own bed. But I don't have one anymore.
No bed. No home.

2 days ago, I was swimming in this black sea at Amed. The Northern coast. You can't put your feet down there. It is very shallow for a long,long way out and the ocean floor is covered with sea urchin and coral. But it is easy to float. I felt like I was light as air, floating effortlessly in black ink. The clouds above me seemed so low. As if I was in a very,very large room. The sky was the ceiling,the mountains and black sand the walls, and on the ocean side - it seemed as though I could see the curve of the earth. It was surreal. I felt like I was in a children's novel. 'Alice in Wonderland'. Or in Narnia. A perfect pace / time to meditate.
"This is my home now." I thought.
"Right in the middle of the black Bali Sea."

I know where I've been, but I don't know where I am going or where I will land. I miss my children and my family and friends. That didn't take long. I am a Taurus - and although I am not entirely into all that astrological stuff, there do seem to be a couple of things that ring true. Taureans love their homes. And I loved mine for over 20 years. After all of my amazing travels and adventures - I always loved coming home. No matter what chaos or mess I was coming home TO - it was home. And I managed to make a pretty damn great one for all of those years. I haven't accomplished much in this life, but I am proud of pulling that off. My home in the Hollywood Hills was just as magical as this place in it's own way. My terraces were also filled with lizards and exotic sounding birds, deer in the back yard instead of monkeys - but I prefer deer in the long run. And it was MINE. My Tara. My earth. MY HOME.

Mark is diving today. He is diving to see a shipwreck very close to here. The sun looks like it may finally appear after a morning of harsh wind and rain, so I suppose I will snorkel. Go look at some pretty fish.
After all, this is my home.
For now.

Penis Shaped Food

So...here I am. Trying to sell my house in a BAD market. Feeling ALL kinds of things - but mostly remembering all of the great memories and parties and growing up and love that has happened in this house. (This house should be marketed as 'the house of LOVE'- no joke!)

And during this ...experience...I remembered that I have been trying to get my sister out here for YEARS to go to Day of the Dead with me - because it's one of the coolest things in the WHOLE WORLD. No joke. The Day of the Dead thing at Hollywood Forever is jam packed with music, art, dance,food, drink, costumes - all in and around graves of famous actors and regular folk - CELEBRATED as if they are ALL STILL HERE FOR THE PARTY. It's SOOO cool that I MADE our brother buy her a ticket to LA so we could go one last time before I move to who-knows-where.

Let's call my sister Paloma - shall we?
She had only 2 and a half days in LA to hang with me and the kids and experience Day of the Dead for herself. And the funny thing is....well...this is what happened...

Paloma is picked up from LAX by Blue and I in my nondescript Toyota.I am wearing a bright blue wig and cat make-up on my face. She dons her BIG WIG. Marie Antoinette style.We get a bite at the ORIGINAL FARMER'S MARKET on the way home. She loves the vibe. Stop at Trader Joe's for tequila and limes on the way home. Are joined by brother forces at the home-stead. Meet up with Mark and Saara and parties (including the young 'Ryan') at Day of the Dead. Proceed to take in art, music, dance ,food, booze, have a BALL.......!!!!!!!!!!

Paloma doesn't eat much. She has corn on the cob, and a long plantain thing at the cemetery.She is mostly vegetarian.I worry about the fact that she is drinking and NOT eating too much... this could be bad.
Anyway, we make it home and Paloma goes to bed pretty quickly.
At 4 am, I am awakened by the sound of her retching into my bathroom....uh oh.

The next day she is sick beyond belief, but we must ALL vacate the house for a big open house....NOT GOOD. At brunch, she leans on Ryan heavily and feels terrible. Luckily, my brother can offer her his bedroom/bathroom for the duration of the 'open house'.
When I pick her up after the open house and drive her back to my place, we are both scared that she is still feeling SO badly and contemplate taking her to the ER.

"Well, have you had a 'headache hangover'?" I ask.
"Not at ALL." she replies. Confusing.

Luckily, we had planned a big ,family dinner in her honor that night. She was NOT able to attend, but my brother's girlfriend was. I made penne with mushrooms and spinach in a light cream sauce and a big salad with warm bread.
My brother's girlfriend mentioned that Paloma had had a street hot dog right before we got into the car to leave the night before.

"No, she didn't", I said. "she doesn't eat meat!"
"She DID." was the reply. "And the guy TOLD her it was all BEEF - but she ate it anyway! I swear - I SAW her!"

A light bulb went off in my head!
As far as I could tell, she had only had the vegetarian stuff that we had all had - corn on the cob, and a plantain - stuff that other people in our group had had and not gotten sick over!

Paloma and I talked it over that night. She could NOT remember having that street dog - but she was not surprised, either.
"I KNOW what's happening!" she declared to me when she was feeling better.
"What!?" I asked.
"I haven't been with a guy for four and a half years - I mean, REALLY - and I was reaching for that HOT DOG - that WIENER - and it was ...you know.."
"You wanted a wiener?" I asked.
"Yes! I was thinking about that ....man. That Ryan. And I just NEEDED a wiener."
"Wait a minute.. " I said, "are you telling me that you only ate WIENER shaped food last night!?"
Paloma burst into laughter. "Ha! YES!!! Penis shaped FOOD!!!! That tell'
s you what STATE I'm in!!!"
"A plantain, corn on the cob, and a street WIENER!!!!" I howled..."That's hilarious!!"

Four and a half years since my sister had been in any intimate dating situation...it figures.

The next day, on the way to the airport in Obama-crazed traffic,she confessed to stealing into Ryan's room in the middle of the night. There was snuggling (pretty innocent and cute), but - the FUNNY thing was.... she fell asleep holding his.....hot dog,corn on the cob,plantain shaped extremity.

Oh, life. You are the ultimate stand-up.
Girls just want to have fun.
Girls need boys, and boys need girls.
And if anyone needs something wiener-shaped badly enough - it JUST MIGHT MAKE THEM SICK.
And it also might make them feel better.

I'm just sayin'......

losing my house..

I've been too busy and depressed to write for a while. Mostly too depressed.
Like many other Americans, I am losing my house. For sort of the same reasons, and sort of different ones. I'm not 'under water' - and it's not that I signed a loan that I didn't understand. It's more just about being underemployed (especially this year)and having had my credit destroyed by evil Citibank - it's a crazy story, which I am not allowed to discuss due to the terms of the settlement. (I think I AM allowed to say that they were supposed to restore my credit COMPLETELY within 5 days of said settlement - that was over a year ago and - yup. Still hasn't happened.)
I paid some guy $4,000 this summer to help me get the credit stuff worked out, and tried to finagle any and every trick in the book short of bank robbery to get into a decent loan - but I failed. If I HAD gotten into a decent loan, I could have rented the house out and MADE money on it. I have a lot of equity in the house (or so I thought - this market may prove me wrong)- but without the credit and the steady job...I failed.
After paying the mortgage on this house by myself for 18 years, my kids looking forward to bringing their kids here some day,after 18 years of SOMEHOW always paying the property taxes and brush clearance for an acre and a half of land, making it through all of the problems that home owners go through - I have now FAILED.

And I feel like a failure.
And it sucks.

And I know - I should count my blessings. And I do. I really do. I have my beautiful children, we are all healthy and smart, and things really could be a lot, lot worse. I know they are for so many people in this country right now. I know that.

I'll make a new home somewhere else. And it will be good. I'll pant tomatoes again. I'll plant bulbs and sunflowers, make birthday cakes and Christmas cookies...
..and who knows...maybe I'll even find a boyfriend.

The Birthday Party

That Friday before my birthday, Pen came over after work with flowers for me. I don't know if I can describe the feelings that went with those flowers - I almost felt like I had slipped into some alternate world. A world where it was GOOD to have a baby and the news was celebrated - BY THE FATHER!!! Even though we weren't married and hadn't EVEN discussed it. My head was reeling, my heart was confused and somersaulting - I was all over the place. When Pen gave me that ..that LOOK...and handed me flowers with tears in his eyes, I threw my arms around him and didn't let go. If I had had any doubts about him before (and lets face it - I had doubts), they were completely banished that day. I have always known that a huge part of my personality is loyalty (I am loyal like a saved dog), and that day Pen earned my undying loyalty.

The next day was my party. It unfolded in dream form.So many things to do to get ready for this "huge" party, that I was distracted up until the very eye of the storm. The house we were living in was WAYYYYY up in the Hollywood Hills - up winding streets, hard to find, on the edge of the mountain that looked over all of Hollywood. Montgomery Clift's old house - it had high, vaulted ceilings and a deck on stilts that showcased the sparkling lights of downtown LA. I had ordered hundreds of balloons. When they came, Max and I marveled at how they looked as they floated up to fill the vaulted ceiling and trail curly ribbons down just at head level in the living room.
I filled the bathtub with ice and beer(my bathtub - not Scott's fancy jacuzzi tub.)Pen came through with his promise to buy a vat of champagne, and the kitchen was filled with every bottle imaginable, plus deli snacks and fruit and cheese and....on and on....
As the evening unfolded, with guests panting into the front door (parking was an issue up there - some had to park blocks away), I watched and felt the evening as if I was outside of my body looking down at everything from the perspective of the balloons up in the nooks of the vaulted ceiling.

The party WAS big. So many people came, I could hardly believe it - people were squeezing into every corner of the house and tiny garden...
Amongst a cacophony of laughter and color and music, I watched Pen take groups of people outside and pour them champagne, give them cigars. Watched the people he told our news to smile and laugh and give him big hugs.In my sober but hormone fueled state, things were confusing and emotional. I never seemed to be there when Pen was telling people that he was having a baby.Except for one group. The person that introduced us. And his brother. I was there for that.
Pen got Patrick Voetberg and Eric Voetberg and I together and thanked Patrick for introducing us. Then he poured champagne and told the happy news. Patrick hugged Pen, then me. Pen was brimming over with tears. Eric shook Pen's hand, then hugged him, and he hugged me too. Then Eric gave me a look. He is, by nature, a quiet fellow. And I don't know what his look meant for sure - but I took it to mean, "Are YOU ok?"
Which I REALLY appreciated. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY.


It was pretty intense for me. So much new information, so many new feelings, so many unanswered questions. My sublet was coming to an end soon. Would I live with Pen? Would I find a new place on my own with 2 kids to think about now? How much would he be involved - a little - or a lot? And how would this affect my work? Thoughts like this were dropping into my head a mile a minute as the music played on, and the balloons finally began to fall and my friends sucked their contents and spoke in silly, helium-induced high voices. We were all so young.

And I was going to have another baby.

The Very Best Birthday Present...

So, I'm living up on Hollyridge with Max and my house-mate, Scott Firestone, dating Pen, and having a pretty great time.Work is good, Max is having a ball,Pen is sweet and always taking me to glamorous places....things feel like they're really clicking into place for me. And then, a week before my birthday, I had this funny feeling.

I had trained Max to climb up on the counter and make coffee for me in the mornings. (I know - that sounds pretty awful, doesn't it - but he really LIKED doing it. It made him feel grown up and important) I loved waking up to the smell of coffee brewing - and Max was the sweetest angel, putting just the right amount of cream in and bringing it to me in bed. I was always so grateful and gave him big hugs and kisses for his efforts. But this one morning in May, the coffee did not smell good at all. In fact, the smell of it was making me feel a little sick.I hid my distaste from Max so I wouldn't disappoint him - he loved our little ritual almost as much as I did - but the next couple of mornings were the same. Coffee, even the smell of it, was making me feel a queazy.
Then, later that week, the alarm bells really went off.I went out to dinner with Pen, and alcohol had the same effect on me. I recognized the symptoms.And I remember that dinner very well. It was the thursday night before my birthday, and Pen took me to this nice French restaurant that he knew I liked (even though he would have been happier with Taco Bell).

"So..you're birthday's coming up." he mentioned at the table.
"Yeeeeesssss...." I said. I had already planned a big party at my house that he knew all about and had friends coming to as well.
"And your party is on Saturday, right?"
"PEN! You KNOW it is - didn't you invite people?" I was going to be a little bummed if he had spaced this thing...
"Yes, yea. No - I'm just saying that SUNDAY is the real day, though, right? The 19th?"
"Well, yea - but you can't have people over for a party on Sunday. This is going to be a BIG party, Pen..." (It was my first BIG party in LA. I was in the mood to celebrate. I finally was making some money - and the pilot and, I wanted to do a BIG thing. I invited ALL of my friends.)
"No, no - I know about Saturday - and I did invite my people. I didn't forget. I was just wondering what you're doing on Sunday. The actual day..." Pen explained.
"Well, I guess I'm going to be cleaning up all day." I replied testily. I was getting more and more upset as the dinner went along. This was all so weird and unimportant. What I had on my mind was possibly EXTREMELY important.
"Ok, ok. I get that. But, do you think you can take a break from cleaning so I can give you your birthday present?"
I looked at him like he was nuts.
"It's not exactly a THING...I'll need about 3 hours."
I just kept looking at him like I didn't get it.
"I'll help you clean up - and I'll get a sitter for Max."he offered.
"ok. Fine." I agreed.
"Do you not like the wine I ordered?" Pen asked, noticing my untouched glass. He looked really nervous and I knew why. I had been giving off a crazy vibe all night. I took one look into his concerned face and burst into tears.
"What the heck is wrong, Jen?" Pen asked, "I just wanted to plan ahead a little, that's all - if you don't want to do the thing on Sunday,it's ok...I'll figure something else out."
I shook my head,'no' and tried to choke out what was on my mind. "Not that!" was all I managed at first. I got up and dashed to the lady's room, leaving Pen bewildered.By the time I had gotten myself together, cleaned up my face and returned to the table, Pen was signing the check.(thank goodness!)He looked so worried as we walked to the car. "And he damn well should be.." I thought. I grabbed his arm and held on tight, trying to let him understand that I wasn't angry at HIM. And anyway, it might be the last time he let me hang onto him that way.

Once we were in his car (the 69 convertible T-bird that night), I put my hand on his thigh and tried to face him with what I had to say. "I think we need to stop at the market on the way home." I said in a very somber whisper.
"O- kayyy..." (It was Pen's turn to look at ME like I was crazy)"What do we need to get at the market that has you bursting into tears at your favorite restaurant?"
"A pregnancy test."

It felt for a few moments like a silent bomb had been dropped into that car. Terrible, awful silence followed. Pen looked stunned. Just as I had feared. I braced myself for the yelling and the anger that I now assumed came after every such announcement. But there was none. Only silence, and Pen looking like he couldn't quite understand what I'd said - it seemed to be happening in slow motion.
"Or two..." I quipped, sheepishly. It worked.It broke the spell. Pen laughed, and then he said, "Wow."

As we walked into the glaring light of the store, Pen asked the usual questions. "Why do you think you might be?"
"Because coffee and alcohol make me sick.."
"How long have you been thinking this?"
"Just, like a week....or less."
"Well, is there anything else - any other symptoms?"
"Symptoms?" I asked.
"Signs."
"You know what....maybe it's nothing. Let's just do the test - then we'll know. It's probably nothing."


And then at my house that night, after Max was put to bed and we were trying to go sleep, "But you've been taking the pill, right?"
"Yep."
"Do you think you missed a day?"
"Entirely possible."
"Well, how could that happen?"
"I don't even know if I DID miss a day...I just said it's possible. Everything's been going so fast the last couple months - I've been racing around like crazy!"
"No, no. Ok. I get it. I wasn't accusing....just asking."
Then Pen snuggled up with me, and I was so grateful for that snuggle. All of my experience up until that point had taught me that if I came out of the bathroom the next morning and that damn stick had a pink plus sign on it - all hell would break lose. The man who was snuggling with me tonight might yell, might say horrible mean things to me, would probably break up with me, and worst of all, maybe - he would blame ME. Solely. As if I had done the thing by myself or plotted against him and done it on purpose. That's what MY experience had prepared me for.As IF I would do such a thing - NOW! My "career" seemed to have really just started to take off - and being preggers isn't so good for an actress. Actresses (especially young, blonde ones) are supposed to be thin and sexy and UN PREGNANT.I said a little prayer that night. It wasn't, "Please, God, don't let me be pregnant." It was, "Please, God, help me through whatever tomorrow brings. And help me do the right thing."

The next morning, I woke up super early. Pen woke right up, too. I went into the bathroom to pee on the stick, set it down gently on the bathroom counter, then tip toed back in to my bedroom to wait for twenty minutes (or whatever it was - it felt like an hour!)with Pen. He was sleepy and sweet. I was so scared I was shivering a little. I tried not to let him feel that. We had not said one word about what we would DO if the outcome of the test was positive.After that bloody endless wait, I slunk back into the bathroom as if the little plastic stick was a ticking bomb. I had sort of convinced myself that it was going to be a minus sign and that all of my craziness about the coffee was just that.

When I came back into the bedroom, Pen was wide awake, sitting up in bed.I had never seen him so wide awake early in the morning.
"Well, what is it?" he asked.
I shook my head, 'yes'.
"It's YES?" he asked, "It's positive, you're...?"
I shook my head 'yes' again, and waited for the yelling. But he didn't yell. He jumped up and ran into the bathroom. "Oh, great.." I thought, "he didn't understand me - or didn't believe it.."
But he did understand. He came back holding the plastic stick with the very CLEAR, BRIGHT pink plus sign showing in it's little window - AND HE DIDN'T LOOK MAD AT ALL.
"We're pregnant!" he said, tearing up and hugging me."We're going to have baby!"

Well, you could have blown me away with a feather. You really could. Pen's reaction was just about as opposite of anything I had imagined as it could possibly be. He smiled, he cried - he seemed overjoyed. I just couldn't believe it.

All day long, Pen kept calling me from work. He said things like, "I'm going to be a father! I'm so happy!" and "This is the happiest day of my life, Jennifer!" and,"I'm going to buy a VAT of Champagne and tell everyone at your party! ...if it's ok with you!", then he'd call back in 5 minutes and say, "And cigars! I'm buying cigars! Jennifer - thank you! This is the happiest day of my life!"
Most of the time I could hear him break into tears at some point during the call.
It was the very best birthday present he could ever give me - a couple days early, but that's ok. He gave me my daughter, Isabella Mary Pendleton, for my birthday that year. And I DO believe it was the happiest day of his life.

For that alone (and there is more) - I will always love him.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. (the Chevy Nova story)

This post is about cars. Kind of.

I am lazily ignoring the world in my freezing cold bedroom as a sort of protest today. I am sick of cleaning up after other people. I did not go to a fancy art's high school or The London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts so that I could be a maid. That is not why I moved to LA many years ago - I have no intention of being a maid TODAY. Not TODAY, anyway.

I also had a stupid, horrible morning that took me on a round trip excursion down memory lane. I ended up driving past my old house (where Izzy was born) and my old haunts - including the place where I very first landed here. Before I found my first apartment. It all felt like a sign. A sign of WHAT - I have no idea. I feel like I'm in an M. Night Shyamalan movie today. Anything could happen - maybe I should just hide.
But it also felt like maybe it was the last time I'd see these places. I might be moving soon. So, that makes me think I should get back to some of these LA stories before I forget them....

The last one about my PAST was when I was dating Pen Pendleton. Living up on Hollyridge in the house that Monty Clift used to live in. (yea, I can call him Monty, cause I lived in his old house with his ghost as a roomy.)
That spring, after I did my pilot, Max went to visit his Dad in Dallas (as usual) for spring break. And when he came back, he was full of stories. Some bad, some good. Then this happened.

I was driving an old Chevy Nova with the back windshield broken out. I think I have mentioned this car before. And the morning after Max got back from Texas, he climbed into my car through the back - OPEN - windshield to come with me on my auditions (as he always did), and then promptly said this, "MY DAD has a brand new Mercedes. Did you know that?" -(he was sort of looking around my car with a disgusted look on his face)
"No. I didn't. That's nice."
"It's really nice and expensive and it's all leather inside. How come WE can't have a nicer car? This one's old and crappy."
I felt like I was reeling from a slap in the face. Of course Max didn't mean anything bad by it.
"Well...." I said, looking at him, and trying to think on my feet, "Does your dad let you eat food in his fancy, new Mercedes?"
Max thought about it."Nope.Not at ALL. Not even a drink or anything."
"Well, you can eat in this car. We do it all the time, right?"
Max didn't look convinced. "Yea..."he said.
"AND...can you hop into your Dad's car through the BACK WINDSHIELD like you're in a TV show or something?"
"No! Of course not!" (Max looked like a little light bulb had just gone off in his head)
"AND...do I ever get mad at you for spilling anything in this car, or making a mess?"
"No!" he practically yelled. Max was looking a LOT happier. "And my Dad's car doesn't get super, super windy on the freeway, either!" Max piped in. (I hadn't realized that was a plus, but I was glad he felt that way!)
"So." I said, "It's really all in how you look at it. Your Dad's car might be prettier and fancier, but maybe MY car is more fun..?"
"Our car IS more fun, Mom!" Max said happily. Then he confessed, "My Dad did yell at me a couple of times for even messing around in his car. I guess this car's pretty cool. All of my friends think it's cool to go in through the windshield, too."

When Pen realized that there was a giant hole right beneath the feet of the driver's side, he patched it up for me with some plywood. He fixed a couple other little things on it, too. But, ultimately, when I walked away from that car a few months later- leaving it at the intersection of Fountain and Fairfax - it still didn't have a back windshield.
Are you kidding? After that whole sell to Max - the missing windshield was the coolest thing about it.

Coyotes.

As I sit here, attempting to write (on this warm summer night) I can hear the coyotes howl across the canyon. And I feel like running away with them. Giving way to my animal soul, and running off with them into the night. Hunting, killing, howling, fucking.

My animal soul has needs.
Needs that are not being met. So,as humans do, I try to appease these desires with alcohol,food,literature,HBO - and in my bizarre case - Benadryl. (Benadryl is my drug of choice for sleeping.)

Like most well educated Anglo/European people I have gone through a good part of my life with my brain ruling the day.

Here's an example : "If I can't have love, I'll write about it. That should do nicely." or, "If i can't have sex, I'll write about it WHILE sedating myself with copious amounts of alcohol so I don't actually FEEL anything - it will all just be in my BIG ASS BRAIN."

But sometimes, you know, when the coyotes are out - howling away across the canyon - and it echoes here like a bugle beckoning one to war - and the itch that can't be scratched by HBO (as brilliant as it is!) or even BBC or PBS or any amount of writing starts to crawl under my skin - I swear to God - it's all I can do to keep myself from running right out of this warm room (with all of it's WINDOWS and DOORS!!! sometimes it's like a jail, this beautiful place!) and joining up with the coyotes.I'll be DAMNED if I don't hate all of these stupid routines and rules that we all live by so FUCKING much sometimes! (and if you READ this blog - you WILL note that I hardly EVER say 'fucking') - and there is a part of me that is a well brought up girl who wants to say "I'm sorry" for cursing - even on a page that very few will ever read - but then there is coyote howling in my brain and blood that that doesn't give a FUCK.

Do you know what I mean?

Possibly I am losing my mind.
I have been thinking about this pretty intensely lately.

Because I tried to do the "right thing".
I really did.
I married a man who was "safe" and he turned out to be a drug addict and beat me to a pulp in front of my 2 daughters.
I married him because he WASN'T a crazy artist or musician or actor and everyone around me said "He's a good bet!"
I've tried so hard to do that "right thing". Get married, settle down - and it's really bitten me in the ass.

And I have to admit that mostly - I feel better off than my married friends. (So many of them call me telling me how stuck and miserable they are) - and of COURSE there are examples of GREAT marriages and families that taunt me - make me feel like a LOSER. But it seems to me that that's the exception, not the rule.

I've been watching all of these science shows with my wonderful, brainiac little boy lately. We are animals. And animals are vicious. It's eat or be eaten in their world.The coyote that kills the most gets the most - of everything. Alpha dogs, and the other dogs. And let's face it - I AM NOT AN ALPHA DOG. If I were a fish, I'd already be eaten.

But sometimes - just sometimes - I feel like a strong, caged up coyote that just needs to get back to her pack.

And tonight's one of those nights.