My father missed our therapy appointment, so we ended up going straight to the Italian food. In retrospect, though, it might have been a good idea to just invite her along. She could have enjoyed the linguini pescatore and intense garlic and olive oil dip AND diffuse the even more intense awkward silence that ensued over the flan. While I love garlic, it's just not a substitute for a good therapist (unless we're talking about REALLY LARGE quantities, the kind that detoxifies your blood)...Anyway, we were able to sidle out of the rough spots by talking about the weather and how I realized during the rain storms that one thing I really like about Los Angeles is the sun (imagine that).

I am now airing out my coat of its garlic stench and bravely holding back the tears even though nobody is around (my boyfriend is coming over after his rehearsal for his play...damn theater people). Perhaps in the future I should hold back on the garlic and go heavier on the tears.

Just for today, visiting with my father brings up emotional issues.