Day Three

Spent a less than peaceful morning with Sophie because she is not doing so well. Sigh.

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Paperwork

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Babysitter came and I went for a big walk with my good friend J. Lots of conversation as the two of us NEVER run out of things to talk about. It's truly amazing because we talk every single day.

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Lunch with J at Maison du Pain, a wonderful French bakery on Pico Blvd. run by two Filipino sisters. The pastries are old-school and fantastic. I had a tuna salad sandwich on olive bread with a bit of cheese and bechamel. J had a croque-monsieur. We shared something sinfully good and flaky filled with a lightly sweetened cheese. I bought two extra of them, ate one in the car when I left and gave the other to Sophie later on.

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I went to Whole Foods and spent entirely too much money on snack foods for my kids when they get back next week. I also bought some gorgeous chard that I should be growing myself and a hunk of fish for dinner.

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I walked around the corner and had a pedicure. This is the first time since last summer, about nine months ago. My feet and toes are shameful, and I was almost embarrassed to expose them. I sat in the very comfortable chair with my feet in a copper basin filled with warm water. I got the whole deal, including leg massage and I finished reading Patti Smith's Just Kids. I'm not a big crier, but when I got to the part when Robert Mapplethorpe dies, I shed a few tears. The book is completely captivating, especially if you're a sucker for romantic views about ART and want to read about the scene in the late sixties and early seventies in New York City when poets and musicians congregated at the Chelsea Hotel and took themselves and what they were doing oh so seriously. I loved it.

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I returned home and sat with Sophie in her room when the babysitter left. We went for a walk because the sun was out and shining the most golden late-afternoon light through new green, and the air was turning a bit colder than it's been and Sophie was happy to walk. We went inside after that and she lay down on her bed. I put some music on in her room and told her how much I loved her.

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The Neurologist called me back and we had a long conversation about Sophie and what to do next. I don't feel like typing it all out here. I'm tired of the whole damn mess. I told my friend A last night that every now and then it hits me that aside from the shock and aftermath of Sophie's diagnosis fifteen years ago, my general distrust of the medical world and the almost existential angst I feel at the unknowable of everything pertaining to Sophie are what have most defined me. Sometimes I can blithely go about my day and at others, well, it's just h
e
a
v
y.

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I made dinner for Sophie and me. I sprinkled the halibut I'd bought earlier with thyme and oregano from my herb garden. I brushed it with olive oil and squeezed some lemon juice, sprinkled a lot of salt and pepper over that and put it in a roasting pan and scattered cut up fingerling potatoes and baby carrots around it. The Husband came home early, for a change, and fed Sophie for me. Relief.

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My friend D came over and helped me fix a few kinks in my computer. The three of us opened a bottle of wine, laughed about the slippery slope to socialism and drank the whole bottle. We also finished the weird little box of malted chocolate milkballs that I'd bought at Trader Joe's last week.

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