Slept stiff.

Well, I'll say, as a fan of pretty gowns, that this years Oscar crop looks like a collection of bunchy garbage bags.

Hasn't anyone heard of a hoop skirt?

Today was BEAUTIFUL.

I habitually got out of bed, knifed the mascara off my eyes, bundled all up in my cozies and tramped outside to go do the Grapes laundry. (Which, by the way, I woke up at 7:30 and then slept in til 9:30 and then freaked out realizing that the laundry would not be done by noon! Then caught myself- they do not need their laundry by noon. X giving into to the impracticality.)

So, to resume, I had tramped about halfway down the block and then was struck still by the realization that teh day was beautiful. The sun I could feel on my face, the sky was blue, it was almost warm, and there was a darling breeze.

I smiled cheekily and continued my jaunt to my car. I arrive at the end of my jaunt and realized I must jaunt on, as my car was nowhere to be seen. I find it eventually, and am glad of the walk in the weather.

So I go. I put in the laundry. I go over to CVS to get vitamin water because my eyelashes are disintegrating and my liver has shrunken to the size of a cat nipple due to dehydration. And because Maggie told me that last week when she was dehydrated she felt like a new woman after drinking Vitamin water and Pedialyte.

I get two.

Red ones.

I go back over to the theater and get my book about Elizabeth Taylor going on a diet and Russell's tweed dinner jacket that has been hanging backstage since the heyday of the Confederacy and go back outdoors to sit on the bench and feel the sunshine.

I fall asleep.

I am awakened once by three small girls marching by with their Daddy chanting "BOOGER KING! BOOGER KING! BOOGER KING!"

Their father was not responding.

I am awakened twice by my jam session/trash dumping buddy Tim, who is rumbling by with the grocery cart and is concerned that I have locked myself out of the building. I suppose he thinks this because I am prone drooling on a bench bundled in tweed.

I am awakened once again by Tom Joad ringing me from thirty paces down the sidewalk to let him into the building.

(It is 11:30 at this time. Showtime: 2pm)

I let him in. He forges very quickly ahead, but manners have apparently been instilled and he waits to hold the door. In my opinion, if he wouldn't rush off ahead so much, he would have to spend less time holding the door. But that's my opinion.

I inform him that I will be joining him today for Sealquacking in the conference room as I feel like I have been run over by a cement truck.

We do that. I am then dismissed and I don't know what all went on in the conference room for the next thirty minutes.

I distribute the laundry.

I go home to meet Margaret for the matinee.

I eat a banana.

We go to the Tavern.

We put on obscene amounts of makeup, curl my hair, which by this point in the weekend has the consistency of driftwood, and shiggle into our skirts.

We go downstairs, and do the play, which involves cutting napkins, giggling and giving lots of meaningful looks to Maggie.

Also lots of crying. Which worked out particularly well this time, due in part to my being blocked to stand directly beneath the air duct.

I see my wonderful mother. I love her so much.

My mother and I drive to Qdoba at Vcoo.

We eat, we talk, I open up the women's bathroom to the sight of a substantial woman pooping.

We go to Lowes to drop me off for the carpool.

We watch the audience exit the Firehouse following the matinee of Crumble, Lay on Top of me Justin Timberlake, or whatever it is.

We watch Jackie Jones in her apricot colored top- you all know the one- mince daintily across the street with what appears to be a platter of her oat-fudgies.

Joe Carlson pulls up in his car directly beside us. I divine from this that the Grapes matinee is over. I say, "Joe, this is my mom. We sit in Lowes parking lots."

He nods and tells me he is going across to the Camel for dinner.

He leaves.

My mother points out that I did not ever actually explain what we were doing there. I like this.

Bet he thinks I'm REAL weird now.

I call Katrinah when she is five minutes late. She answers. I have woken her from her nap.

She peels into the parking lot five minutes later. And proceeds to peel right past me. I assume she is doing another lap and then will pick me up. She reaches the corner and takes an abrupt left back onto Lombardy, and then away.

I am glad my mother has not pulled off yet. I flag her down and she drives me down to play practice.

At play practice, I fended off my coma, drank Sunkist, and did HEAVY PARTNERING with Brandon Beckman. Which I so adore.

Then Katrinah drove me home. We are smushed against the center guardrail by a semi that was going to get over like it or not.

We drive down the shoulder for a while.

And now we are are watching the Oscars and Adam is torturing us by chopping onions in the next room. But I will forgive, as he is chopping them to make fancy little pizzas and salad.

Maggie just said to the cat- "you have got to grow your fur back. Cause I am sick of looking at your nipples."