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I AM EXCITED! About things included but not limited to: friends coming for dinner tonight, trip to LA, Steve coming back! Julien coming to visit! High School reunion, time with my sisters, sweaters and what Boots may come, Amy Herzog’s After the Revolution, seeing what the heck happens with my plays, what might happen with my TV shows, whether or not baby kitty will get fat or even MORE fat, pumpkin bread, using my new Notebooks, The miners getting un-trapped, Evan’s baby, even more episodes of Teen Mom, and well I guess, no definitely, the rest of my life.

Snuggled secretly beneath a hot dog shop on Astor Place, e and I discovered  a TOP SECRET COCKTAIL BAR duely titled Please Don’t Tell. (So I WON’T tell you exactly where *.) First you must step into the magical phone booth and dial the secret number. Then the secret door opens and they judge you, make their decision, and let you in, tell you they’re full, or tell you to come back at a certain time and they’ll have a special table just for YOU. Once inside, the music is perfect, the ice cubes are giant orbs, the bartenders are devestatingly attractive, and your cocktail is made with aloe and honey and lime. Erin’s, with maple and bacon vodka. I’ve never really been much one for going places where you have to wait to get in, but last night , we felt like stars (because we are.)

* Google it. Duh.

Liz and I went to the Natural History Museum hoping to learn about the earth; be generally erudite. But instead, we were discouraged to find that we had forgotten everything we learned in second grade. So instead, we meandered about like faux- Rachel Zoe’s, having profound conversations like, when at the wall of Sea and Worm Creatures:

Me: So wait, are these things real, or like, not real?

Liz:…….I think the things in the Jars are real. But the other things aren’t real.

Or, in ancient China exhibit, of a old linen outfit:

Me: I would wear that. Like I would really wear that.

Or, of the whole time:

Liz: how cool would it be if like Robin Williams and or Ben Stiller were here?

Me: So. Cool.

Here is where I get all erudite and ‘I am reading this amazing book right now.’ So I am reading this amazing book right now, pictured above. Andy suggested I read it, for a deeper look into inner city schools. So this amazing guy, Geoffrey Canada, started the Harlem’s Children Zone in an effort to better the quality of life and FUTURE life for Harlem kids. He raised millions of dollars, and started programs for high schoolers on down to pregnant Mothers.

Basically, he grew tired of only being able to save / help a few children, whoever he could afford to let into his programs – he wanted to impact EVERYONE. His solution: to start early. Before birth. Because there is this huge discrepancy in the cognitive and learning abilities between poor and middle / upper class children.

When I was little, without even KNOWING it, my parents made education and success a priority – I was constantly instructed, learned social codes, and was encouraged to ask questions (Mom/ Dad do you remember doing this? I bet you did, and I bet YOU didn’t even realize it.) But kids from lower-class homes: their parents have a COMPLETELY different set of priorities, and raise their children  differently. Not that it’s all bad. Kids from lower-class homes are more inclined to talk about how they feel, express themselves, but aren’t as familiar or comfortable with rules / the structure of school as their peers.

I haven’t finished the book yet, but so far, I’ve watched Canada struggle through pouring all of this funding into a new school for middle school kids, Promise Academy – and STILL the kids can’t get their test scores up, with extra attention, test prep, etc.

All in all, it makes me grateful that I was raised how I was. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I spent a fair amount of time outside making ‘stew’ out of grass and rocks, and playing circus, and reading babysitter’s club, but somehow somewhere, education as a priority was ingrained in me.

I just wrote a 5 paragraph essay. Look at me, doing my homework. This is the fifth paragraph, in which I sum up, so uh, thank you for reading this essay.

LASAGNA NIGHT!!! Food! Fellowship!!…Murder? Last night, we of House of Home gathered at Kerry and Tibi’s for a reunion of sorts. They prepared an Italian sausage old faithful, and a pesto spinach gooey amazing thing. And we at it all.  And then there were crepes that were prepared with orange butter and cognac and were on fire for a minute. And we drank wine. And we played games. And I was the Mafia. Thankfully, no one was actually killed.

Kind of like the character in the play I’m working on, for like five years I’ve been meaning to volunteer with New York Cares, and I FINALLY attended an orientation.  In the play, the character gets involved for sort of selfish and strange reasons, it turns out, but does badly want to help.

There, in the weird theater in the children’s room at the West Village public library, I felt like I was INSIDE of my own play, inside of this fictional person I created that is also sort of myself. And when we had to share with our neighbors why we wanted to get involved, I opened my mouth, and out poured some nonsense about being a playwright and doing research kind of, but wait, ALSO WANTING TO HELP, and my neighbor looked at me like I was insane, and there I was, inside of my own play. But for real: it’s a really amazing organization and I can’t wait to get started.

Lily and I went today, sure that we would be the only people there, and sure we would have a transcendental experience. Sadly, there were OTHER PEOPLE there. But we still managed to transcend just a little bit, here and there. And now, pictures of my favorite things!

Props from a production of Waiting for Godot in post-Katrina New Orleans:

This gem from an exhibit of all lady-made photographer:

And last but not least, THIS THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today under the BQE there is an old car parade show competition thing! Very exciting.  I was running through and had to pause for a couple to pass. They looked at me like I was insane for this ‘running’ and my time would be much better spent sitting inside of an old car and making it ‘Vroom.’ (Seriously though, some of them where really amazing – straight out of the 50s (or: Back to the Futures 1 and 2), exposed engines, funny pet names airbrushed across the hood, and funnier owners. There were also Tshirts, and portapotties.)

Lily always signs her emails and texts  ’X’ or ‘xxx’ or ‘xo’ which I’ve always enjoyed, because I just like the constant reminder that she is cute and from London.  I’ve never been one who’s much for x’s and o’s in terms of sign offs. But now I’ve just finished reading the novel from the UK that’s all emails (obsessed – more to come on that front) and it was basically 500 pages of x’s and o’s – some genuine, some passive aggressive -and also fun things like people being ‘cows’ and ‘gits’ and ‘having each other on’ and ‘having a laugh’ – and now said x’s and o’s are suddenly pouring out of my fingers, like this is now the way I am supposed to express myself, or always have.  Or like I’m trying it on like a hat. xo? xxxxxxx. X.

I have the best friends. Last night Kerry and Tibi had me over to their Ikea fairytale land perfect apartment for Julia Child’s Beef Bourguignon, Banana pudding and five years of wine. It was a post mort for House of Home KIND OF, but mainly an excuse to eat. And THEN, we watched MONSTER INSIDE ME, a terrifyingly predictable show about people who think they are dying – but wait – no – they just have a parasite. OR: A MONSTER INSIDE THEM. This did not go SO well with pudding, but was muchly informative. You guys, did you know you can get a parasite from your dog? From walking barefoot in the grass? Did you also know that Julia Child’s Beef Bourguignon is delicious? You learn somethings new, every day.