May 13th, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

...And The Cat Doesn't Even Remember My Name


Just this instant (2am) home from a raucous jaunt out Nevada way. A few days in Vegas at New York, New York (I flew mom out and put her up at the Bellagio, by far the swankiest hotel in Vegas, for mother's day). Shows, play, food, drink, relaxation (amidst requisite work stuff, just for the write-off, y'unnerstan.)

Mom went home. The Boyfriend and I flew up to Tahoe for a few days.

Get this. It snowed two nights ago. I find it hard to believe as I now sit in New Orleans in the muggy pre-summer, post-strorm heat.

Snow! In May! WTF?

Up at 8am this morning (Pacific) and home at 2am (Central) after long drives, an afternoon in Reno, flight to Vegas, flight back home.

The cat is furious.

Monday, off to the Bahamas (I love my work).

June, a northeastern tour: Boston, Providence, New York, Philly.

August, London, Scotland and, if manageable, a week Alaskan cruise.

But I can't even think about that stuff right now. It's just so good to be home in my own bed with that cat — what's her name again? Oh, right, 'Gordon.'

An isolated, first-time moment occured that I'd like to mention. After mom left Vegas, I was walking down The Strip in Vegas to check her out of her room. I stood at the amazing 8 acre fountain at the Bellagio and my subconscious reflected and took a little inventory as water shot 600mph and 200 feet in the air: I thought vaguely of The Boyfriend, my friends all over the world, my family, my lifestyle, the fact that I could treat mom to a weekend that she called 'a memory waiting to happen', and quite unbidden and without realizing it, I found myself crying into the fountain — just pure, extracted joy bubbling up from below. I didn't even realize it was happening until I found my vision had blurred. I honestly thought it was spray from the fountains at first.

That closing scene from Ocean's Eleven has new meaning for me.