Friday, June 26, 2009

It's so easy to repeatedly hit snooze when it's thunderous and rainy outside.

So much shit—good and bad—has gone down this month that I cannot wait until Dr. Laura returns from the South of France. I'll bet you some of her patients called her internationally though I'm not one of them. Melnick is fabu, but you only see psychiatrists once a month. And since we're friendly, our sessions usually result in 30 mins+ of us talking over each other.

I marked a major personal milestone this month and I'm in serious need of Dr. Laura's interpretation. Thirteen years of cognitive behavioral therapy and you should know what your major issues are and how to break your patterns of behavior. Like, if you're issue is that you sleep with married men cause your dad was stepping out on yo' mama, identify the issue and then break the pattern. That's not my issue—my affair with a married man was a PTSD reaction to cancer diagnosis thank you very much—but I have a few. And I fear that I backslid on one of those major issues this month.

My session with Melnick last week, I'm afraid, led me to do something a little out of what has become my character. I trust Ilan immensely and is one of my doctors whom I consider a friend. And now that he and Dr. Laura are phone BFFs, he has even more insight into my mind and therefore offers more advice that I take to heart. So I took the advice of the professionals, dove in, came out unscathed but now everything seems screwy again and I'm back in.

It's really fucking hard to write about your personal life without revealing anything. So let's switch to the fun stuff. Ben and Laura's wedding on Cape Cod—forgot which town he lives in—is in two weeks! I'm staying in Hyannis and aside from stalking the Kennedy compound, I could use some input on what to do and see when you don't have a lot of time. I cannot wait for the wedding weekend—ordered my dress from Bergdorf this weekend. Last Saturday I wore my first strapless dress EVER and loved it. So now I'm all about the strapless, just cause I can.

I haven't decided yet on shoes or jewels, but I'm thinking a Chanel look—layered pearls, gold baubles etc. That will likely change though depending on what mom lets me borrow.

Okay, so that's two weekends away. In-between that: I go from here to Jacksonville next Wednesday. Every year for as long as I've been alive my dad and his college frat buddies—TEPs, natch—have had a July 4th beach reunion somewhere in Florida. I've never missed one. Over the years the 'kids' have grown up, but we all still go and party with the 'rents July 4th. It's a lovely, fun, happy tradition and these guys have become my second family. One of their father's passed away last week and I met Dad and Uncle David at the ceremony in Ft. Lauderdale. It was so touching to see all the old TEPs supporting Jimmy. There was a whole table of 'em, some like Dad and David had flown in just for the day. The same guys crowded my hospital room when I had the mastectomy. As much as I bag on growing up in Jax, I know I wouldn't have such great lifeling, multigenerational friends if I'd been raised in a bigger city.

So this year's July 4th, my friends and I are carrying on the tradition and merging the groups. Some of the TEPs are lifelong family friends from Jacksonville. Alison's grandparents, Lee Ann's grandparents and my dad's parents were the best of friends. Alison's dad, my dad and Lee Ann's dad also grew up together and are still friends. So Al, Lee Ann and I are now the third-generation of this group of friends. And Lee Ann—of Four Seasons Costa Rica fame—is flying in from L.A. to stay. Not to mention the fact that all our guy friends will be there too. The whole multi-generational crew together for a weekend of food, liquor, beach, pool and partying—I cannot wait. The weather in Jacksonville at the beach ain't like Miami. Doesn't rain every day there.

So that's Wednesday. Sunday I leave from Jax to NYC and return to Jax Tuesday. Wednesday I drive back here and Thursday I leave for Mass. That Sunday night I'm heading into Boston to stay with dad's cousins who live at the InterContinental, which I understand is right in the heart of things. Only been to Boston once, when I was 17 years old. Monday the fabulous, funny, kindand kick-ass best-selling author Laura Zigman and I are having our first in person tete a tete. And if I can get my 260-page work in progress organized, I will hand off my pages for Ms. Zigman to critique.

Get back to Miami Monday night; leave again the next day for Jax. Brother's 30th bday July 17. The rents' have a beach house through Aug 6th in Ponte Vedra, so I'm decamping up there for the rest of July. Oceanfront condo practially to myself? Sold. Hopefully some of my friends will drive up to keep me company some weekends.

Anyway, guess it's time I get out of my pjs and head to the gym. Or rather, stay in my pjs and head to the gym. Tomorrow night we are throwing Laura a bachelorette party that commences with—picture this—an exotic dancing session. Me? We're supposed to bring a man's oversize white shirt—doesn't that require having a man to borrow from? I've already tried to wriggle out of the dancing part by designating myself official videographer, but Laura's already stated that she'll get me drunk enough to dance. At 2 in the afternoon. Hot mess weekend, woo-hoo.