I'm in this very strange part of the country where the air is really clean and there are lots of tall wooden things with green stuff on them. Yes, I have actually forsaken the urban jungle to commune with nature. Do you realize that there are places on God's green earth (and they happen to be green places) where there is not only no Internet or cell access, but no cable TV (shudder)...?!!!!

In truth, it's very lovely and majestic here (Lake Tahoe) and much better now that I have decided to stay in my aunt's home (which is very civilized and wireless), instead of the rustic family cabin a few miles away where my dad and brother are roughing it (NO WIRELESS OR CELL ACCESS???!) with spiders....yes, I said spiders.

Did I mention that I woke up this morning inside the rustic family cabin to find that a spider had BITTEN MY EYE?! My eye looks like I got into a fight with someone who threw a non-commital punch. It's "not that bad" as my dad and aunt and everyone keeps saying while they roll their eyes at my "drama queen" pleas for sympathy. Sure, it's no big deal to them. They didn't wake up to look on their pillow and find pieces of dead spider all over and soon realize that last night a spider was on their face BITING THEIR EYE!

The sad, interesting, and brutal irony is that way back in the late 70's I went on a camping trip with my father at which we slept outdoors and at which I also woke up with a swollen eye. Again, it was "no big deal" until I went to school and my Kindergarten teacher sent me home and told me to go to the hospital (ISN'T THAT WHAT "CONCERNED" PARENTS ARE SUPPOSED TO DO?).

As you can see, I'm having a lot of feelings about parents, nature, and spider-bitten eyes (why do they go for my eyes?!!). I can't wait to see my shrink on Friday...

Just for today, I can survive a family vacation.

I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not "the marrying type" (as Mr. Big said said to Carrie in season 5 of Sex and the City...LOVE THAT SHOW!). If there ever was a "Charlotte" (the traditional idealist) period in my life, I've long since passed it. My therapist wouldn't allow me to get bitter enough to turn into a Miranda (the bitter cynic....LOVE HER!) and I'm far too sensitive to be as promiscious as Samantha (the wise don't-give-a-damn slutty one...SHE ROCKS! ). What's left? Maybe I am a new archetype. The contented unattached serial monogamist (still working on the contented part).

On top of full-time professional employment, personal upkeep, and endless striving for self-improvement, the idea of "wifedom," (it's too tiring to even describe...you know what I mean) is not sounding too attractive to this lonely soul. Maybe I'll just find a closeted gay man to keep up my wardrobe and decorate, so I'll feel more balanced taking care of the kids and the cooking (because let's face it, I like kids and I like to cook...)...

In a society where thirty-four single women become sociological studies, it's important for me to face the facts of who I am.

Just for today, I can entertain the thought of eternal singledom (that can't be a word...I need to go to bed).

I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not "the marrying type" (as Mr. Big said said to Carrie in season 5 of Sex and the City...LOVE THAT SHOW!). If there ever was a "Charlotte" (the traditional idealist) period in my life, I've long since passed it. My therapist wouldn't allow me to get bitter enough to turn into a Miranda (the bitter cynic....LOVE HER!) and I'm far too sensitive to be as promiscious as Samantha (the wise don't-give-a-damn slutty one...SHE ROCKS! ). What's left? Maybe I am a new archetype. The contented unattached serial monogamist (still working on the contented part).

On top of full-time professional employment, personal upkeep, and endless striving for self-improvement, the idea of "wifedom," (it's too tiring to even describe...you know what I mean) is not sounding too attractive to this lonely soul. Maybe I'll just find a closeted gay man to keep up my wardrobe and decorate, so I'll feel more balanced taking care of the kids and the cooking (because let's face it, I like kids and I like to cook...)...

In a society where thirty-four single women become sociological studies, it's important for me to face the facts of who I am.

Just for today, I can entertain the thought of eternal singledom (that can't be a word...I need to go to bed).

Listen up, cuz this is important to you ladies starting out on the (what?) "single scene" in this land of plenty of sexualities. There are three very important words for single women looking for a man in LA:

1) Are.
2) You.
3) Gay.

There is some serious sexuality confusion out there. Men who claim to be straight tell me they like my bag and shoes. Men who claim to be gay are totally flirtatious.

Just for today, we can all get the facts straight (no pun intended).

I had a dream a few weeks ago that I was traveling North on the 101 on a unicycle at the speed of 70 mph. The wind was in my face (somehow I was cool with no windshield) and I kept thinking, "I can't keep going this fast, I can't keep going this fast." And so I got off the freeway even though I hadn't yet arrived at my destination. I was scared I would crash and then never reach it. Sometimes I'm not sure if life is moving that fast, or if it's me. Everything is coming at me and it's all I can do to look for an off-ramp. The closest I can get to one involves spending far too much money at the Nine West, Targae, or the MAC counter. All I can say is that there are places I'm destined to arrive at whether I want to or not and it takes all the courage I can muster to stay on the road.

Just for today, I can have the courage to travel at the speed of life.

What if Brad and Angelina's baby looks like a prune face?

Why does my hair look the best when I stick it underneath the hand dryer after I swim? And can I have one of those installed in my apartment?

Do I like those shirts that flair out because on some unconscious level I'm pretending to be pregnant?

Are the clothes at Forever 21 really made by little kids in China, and if so, am I evil for being happy that jackets were on sale for $10 a piece? (Do I really need to even ask this one?...this is not an official question).

Does it mean I'm not fit to be a mother if I refuse to ever clean up anybody's puke, not even my own child's?

Is forgetting that there was an election today a sign of my degeneration?

Do I need to read anymore? (Cuz I've read enough...it's starting to be redundant).

Do I need a vacation really, really bad? (I think we know the answer...).

Just for today, I can ask questions.

There aren't words to express how inspired I was by the Madonna concert...but I'll try. Here goes...I WAS SO FUCKING INSPIRED BY THE MADONNA CONCERT! Unlike this season's "The Sopranos" (sooooo dissappointing...), she is worth the wait and the hype.

If ever I fear that I might offend some potential suitor with my un-lady like candor (which is...really, so annoyingly tame...I mean I used the F-word ...big deal), I need only remind myself that Madonna is a successful money-making machine of a woman who does things at 47 like grind on a speaker and stick her finger down her pants and then lick it (not exactly my style, but provocative is always good)...AND YET is still married to a nice looking successful man ten years her junior, and seemingly unthreatened by her immense power (I mean if he were, would he have stuck around this long?). In other words, she is a beacon of hope for all powerful women who fear that their success might threaten the fragile egos of eligible men (which is NOT ALL MEN...'kay?). And not only that, but she rocks, wears cool clothes, and has, at 47, the body of a very petite teenaged super-model. Thanks Madonna for inspiring me to get my co-dependent head out of my ass (not to mention to yoga this morning...damn, I want those legs) and to EXPRESS MYSELF!!!

Just for today, I am inspired by Madonna.