Sunday, April 17, 2011

A Day for Me

Yesterday was my day.

All mine.

I meant to get up and edit a story I was working on. I failed.

I drank two perfect cups of Cuban coffee with cream, dressed in nice clothes, and headed to Beverly Hills for a haircut with my favorite Antonia. She has cut my hair for 11 years and I love her. Just walking into her salon--even if it is only every six months--makes me feel well-groomed and high-maintenance. I love it.

I walked out feeling like a million bucks--my hair blown dry, my split ends long gone. I swished my hair and imagined all the men of the world falling at my feet as I strode by the bistros of Bev Hills.

I hopped in the little red mini and zipped away. Already I was getting pangs of withdrawal. I am such a full-time mother that when I actually have time to enjoy myself, without a list of tasks and must-do memorandae I feel lost, and a little sad. I broke down and checked in. Baseball practice was good and the boys were heading to a friend's house for a dip. The brisket was bought and J had hunted down the sole I needed for my French dinner.

I drove downtown along Sunset, watching the neighborhoods change, through all my favorite parts of LA--Thai Town, Los Feliz. I stopped at Yuca's -- a tiny taco stand I read about in a book about cooking by a British artist--and ate one perfect carne asada burrito and a coke in she sunshine, pouring on so much picante hot sauce my lips were on fire. Ay qhe ricco!

I cruised downtown, my lips still tingling, and found free street parking (Yes!) a few blocks from the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion. I stashed my computer out of sight, and walked Grand Ave.-Eli Broad's dream creation, a stretch of magical architecture consisting of an amazing charter school built by a world famous German architect, Moneo's cathedral, the music center, and down at the corner, Disney Hall. The school is a travesty--a million dollars a classroom in a city where teachers are pink slipped every year and there are over 40 kids in some high school classrooms. But it is beautiful! I had never been so close. It is inspiring. I would have killed to have gone to high school in such a soaring, imaginative, creative space. It changes you.

I walked to the music center, and all of black LA and I were there to see Alvin Ailey. I got a ticket on-line through Goldstar. I have made a decision to honor my great loves. Not just for me (which is hard) but to teach my children to do that, too. I love dance. I love doing it, I love watching it. Deep down I feel I was meant to be a dancer--I love movement, self-expression, music. A psychic once told me that was my intended destiny. That resonated. To me, dance is one of the most beautiful arts.

I sat in my discount orchestra seats and listened as the black audience went crazy like a Gospel service. They were rowdy, appreciative, on fire. The dancers were so beautiful I cannot describe it here. I felt refueled.

I drove home near sunset, L.A.'s best time, and walked into my stocked kitchen and cooked asparagus wrapped sole in a tangerine buerre blanc, with ingredients and a recipe from my farmer's market bag. The dish was so good I shocked myself. And Jonathan. Our kitchen was like the best French restaurant in LA for one perfect meal. I was possessed by a great chef for one evening.

I sipped my wine, put my boys to bed, lay in my bed with the windows open, and listened to the sounds of Rod Stewart and Stevie Nicks wafting through my window from the Hollywood Bowl.

I know I appreciated the alone-ness because my life is so full. If that were my life always I would be slightly sad. But it is different--and wonderful--to move through the world alone sometimes. To see differently, to feel differently, to follow your own loves and impulses in the moment, with no negotiating with little people, no shepherding of boys, and no sales pitch to a sometimes reluctant husband.

I am grateful. Now ready to dive back into all that must be done.

1 comment:

jecca said...

You are the master of me time. Good for you. I was worried doing my sponsored swim that I'd get my leg hair caught in the lane ropes and if I don't get my hair cut soon my poor shower is probably going to resign from overwork. Ho hum. Glad you had a lovely day. xxx