Health and Healthlessness

One, dear numbskull's at Healthnet dental,
my son is two. You have assigned him an adult dentist. I have to take him to said dentitsts office and likely wait around for his appointment time. He will scream. Said dentist will then file paperwork to recommend my TODDLER go to a pediatric dentist. I will have wasted a whole morning (dentist will have wasted his time as well, and probably bill the insurance.) Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? This is THE stupidest thing I have dealt with so far in a CAREER of dealing with idiot health insurance.
Two, jerks at the 24 hour fitness 730 pm dance class at South Coast Metro,
Rena has been gone for 2 months. She is a fantastic, sexy creature and an excellent instructor. She came back much thinner and tired. She announces she has been having chemotherapy and is very ill, but is glad to be back teaching. You all stand there gaping at her disinterestedly. She looks crestfallen. This only reinforces my opinion that that part of the OC is full of cold hearted bastards. It would have hurt you guys to APPLAUD the girl? Keep it classy South Coast Metro.
best wishes.
me

What could go wrong?

The vagaries of life here at the fed: The laundry room is scary, 'cause some of the old coots like to corner you and beat you down about your stance on the condo conversion, yet, there is a lady who gets ballroom dance lessons in the rec room and patio (The patio I imagine, because they can't contain their quick-step) The young man teaching her makes her float. It's lovely. Our refrigerator is one frozen tamale short of breaking down completely, the bathtub is a scabby mess, and we are CRAMMED into this studio, Yet I can walk to my current gig at The All American Melodrama and there is a party/art walk every Saturday night just one door down. The exterior is painted primer grey, but when it rains we have a superb view of the San Bernadino mountains. Sigh.

Actors Cliche.

I booked a commercial spot, in spite of the fact that I had to bring Lilo. And he hollered, cried kicked and RAN from the casting directors. The poor guy who got put in charge of L while I tried to get usable tape, looked like he aged 50 years in the interim. Hello? SAG? Studios? anyone? if we had the ability to drop off our precious and distracting kiddies at a licenced day care like they do at the gym, there would be some good work being done. Damn it. I guess I need to figure out how to make it happen. LA is just so dang BIG! A drop off in Studio City, one in Burbank, WeHO, Hollywood and the Westside. What? Trailers or RV that are movable, cheap and reliable....Can't believe I booked the bloody Ad...
Which only goes to prove, as my friend Hisa said.... I was probably wearing the right skirt that day.

Socks? Pt II

First of all, I have to acknowledge a correction about Laura Ingalls Wilder and my waxing wroth. Yes her first book was little house in the WOODS. Of Wisconsin. Thanks you Yatsu for calling me out on accuracy, BUT, THAT Little house was 45 minutes away from Dunn county, and leave Caddie her own little patch of woods say I.
Saturday we had a fantastic breakfast at The Creamery. We were joined by Blaine H. Director of Caddie and tireless theatre impresario, his lovely GF, Susan her talented husband Michael, and the inimitable Joan Graham and her whip smart daughter Jennifer. Joan and Jen starred in our previous trip out west for Tales, and are 2 of the funniest, smartest people we have the pleasure to know. They told us some great Al Franken stories and came armed with a picture of Joan and Walter Mondale, taken by pure chance at a rally. A great breakfast, great conversation and our lingering, nay, MAlingering personalities, and POW we were almost late for our matinee!
We had the pleasure of meeting David Brink, and Susan's cousins, who stopped by the Pin Cherry for snacks before the show. I had about 5 minutes to shower, put on my make up and try to make my overly curly hair presentable when we were stopped in our tracks by crisis: I had forgotten to pack black socks for T. "Wear the white ones." Say I. I am met with withering scorn. I say, my hair wet and myself less than attractive, "quick get in the car, I'll drop you off at the theatre and... BUY you socks."
Mind I am fancied up, driving unknown roads on a sock quest. I FINALLY find a Walgreens, screech to a stop, pull in, run into the store, clatter, clatter, clatter in my heels. Find black dress socks. Go to pay. The nice (But EXCRUCIATINGLY slow) lady at the register sez, "Goin' to a wedding?" "No" say I. "Not goin' to a funeral in a pink dress?""No" say I. "Well you gotta tell me why yer running in here in yer fancy dress buying black men's socks." I semi calmly explain that T wrote the show currently running at the Mabel Tainter. She was vaguely whelmed.
I arrived at the theatre, stuck T's white sox in my handbag, and took my seat.