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On the remote island of Lastovo, where we drank Lasko from tap, and stared into sea, sky, and stars, we were removed from all our orientations except each other. I miss Lastovo. I miss my sweetheart.

The park that is nearby friends’ house in Zagreb is lined with Lipa trees – or in English, Linden trees – or as my oil calls them, lime trees (or lime wood). The smell of this tree’s flower is heaven on earth and the leaves are heart shape and the trees grow tall tall tall. Once in Slovenia, at a spa, they poured a dash of lipa oil on the steaming rocks and whipped a towel around to permeate the humid air as we lay there.

Right here on this square is where you can buy Kras chocolates (big yum), and sit at a city cafe that is one of the most beautiful coffee shops in the world, you can wait by the horse for your family or friends, and you can take this as a starting point to a hundred destinations.

Arlene has started pacing the house back and forth, which I read is a pattern in geriatric dogs that displays Alzheimers.

My mother paces around her kitchen.

Arlene is disoriented and walks into corners and cannot get out.

My mother drives her car right into other cars. My neighbors suggested taking away her key – her key? I said, might as well say her life.

Arlene misses the steps and leaps off the bottom or tumbles and falls on the ascend.

My mother misses her step and cracks her ribs, busts her mouth, gashes her legs and arms.

Arlene eats with a fury and drinks water as if someone might take it away from her for good.

My mother hoards cookies and jars and bread and chips everywhere in the house and eats till she is getting fat like a chubworm.

Arlene looks at me and breaks my heart.

My mother looks at me and breaks my heart.

Growing old is not for pussies.

I went to Swirl last night – you have to love those girls (Beth, Kerry and Bridget) for creating this wonderful gathering place in our neighborhood – it’s always old friends, dogs, and new faces and it is an environment that is a great starting point for the evening. Delicious wines, beer, champagne and cheese and always a touch of drama. Last night’s discussion was about fish in Turkey that eat the dead skin off of you and are being used by people with eczema and other problems.

We live in a wonderful place – oh gods of the hurricane season – spare us yet again this year!

Meaux Bar on Rampart Street – Jim and Matthew, the owners, have created a lovely bistro that is friendly, relaxed yet elegant, with delicious food and it is all served by Debbie – a honey of a blonde with a great smile. Last night, eight of us went and ate a range from burgers to mussels and yum yum yum – we passed a good time.

I was getting my hair done today and Maria was asking me about my mother and I said she’s laid up in bed having cracked a rib and as a matter of fact, she had just called me on my way there to ask me to bring her some boxed wine. Maria said, “tu eres una benedicion para tu mama” – I said I don’t want to drive out to Metairie in 5:00 traffic to bring boxed wine to my mother who hasn’t gotten out of bed since she got there on Sunday afternoon. Maria said, “pero es tu mama, y lo necessita, un poquito de vino para su dolor” – good grief, now the guilt was a thick as it could be.

So leaving Maria’s, I went by Rite Aid and got two boxes of wine and then I walked out into 6:00 traffic with a box of wine in each hand and I’m sure the entire city of New Orleans saw me. When I got to my mom’s she was sitting at the kitchen table and she said, “You’re never going to believe what just happened.” And I said, “Try me.”

She said, she got a phone call and a woman’s voice said, “Hello, this is Rachel, I have an incredible offer to help you consolidate your debt. Press 1 if you want to learn more, or press 2 if you are not interested.” Mom said, “I normally always press 2, but I was intrigued because her name was Rachel. So then a woman comes on the line and says matter of factly,’Sorry, we can’t help you today.'”

Mom said, “I got so mad! I don’t even have any outstanding debt. [Sigh] I just wanted to talk to Rachel.”

So, of course, the moral of this story is THANK THE FUCKING LORD and the maker of Franzia that I drove out to Metairie with two boxes of wine for my mother because really, how could I not?

I ran into J at yoga – she is the consummate dog whisperer – now most wouldn’t want to be entered into the book of records as having been Loca’s dog trainer, but J was really terrific with her – they had a thing between them.

I remember one day J was working with Loca and my mom was sitting on the sofa and Loca jumped up on my mom and J jerked Loca back so fast, she flew across the coffee table and ended sitting straight up – I was like wow! – a few minutes later, before I had a chance to recover from that scene, J ran to the window because her 78 year old mother, who has Alzheimer, was passing by with her pocketbook tucked firmly under her arm – J later told me that the pocketbook is kept empty.

Anyway, I still never paid J for the dog whispering services and so I have been trying to catch up with her. She said this dog found her a while ago and the dog was so wound up that she would have to take it running as she rode her bike just to pace the dog as fast as he wanted to go. Just the other day, she was at her boyfriend’s house in Metairie and the dog climbed the fence like a monkey and got out. Some people found the dog in their yard and ended up bringing it to a friend of theirs who had one year ago lost a dog that looked similar.

Turns out, it WAS their dog! – so J, who had fallen in love with this rescue dog, was happy to see a reunion story come out of losing her dog.

There is this new agey thing going around or that has been around that I am just hearing about. I have this ache in my back and a doctor in California told me after my bone density test that I have slight arthritis in my lower back, which she said is common for women of my age – I told this to my masseuse here in New Orleans when my back was getting into a horrific state and she said, “don’t claim it” – I was like, whoa, radical dude – I don’t have arthritis in my lower back but I do have fucking pain galore – so then I was talking to a friend who has reached menopause and she’s married to a spiritually new agey guy and when I said did you have hot flashes, she said, I might have but I don’t claim it that’s what my hubby told me to do.

So I was thinking about my lost luggage as I was staring into my closet last night trying to figure out what I wanted to wear to Swirl tonight and I was disgusted because my favorite dresses are lost in Heathrow or on some stranger’s back right now and I thought, woe woe woe is my clothes situation and then I thought to hell with that I am not claiming woe – maybe I traded my clothes in for five weeks away, for discovering a gem of a country called Croatia, for having had the time to get to know my sweetie better unencumbered by costume or custom, maybe given the opportunity I would take all those clothes and burn them on a pyre to have the same chance again.

So here’s what I claim – nothing bad – all good – and in the meantime, I’m headed out tonight with something in my closet that makes me feel all dolled up = but that doesn’t really matter as much as I’m off to meet my friends in my merry hood and I claim that I will pass a good time, yeah.

There is still work to be done but right now, I’m looking outside into the hot, humid day of summer here in the Crescent City and my thoughts are on TGIF! – Wow, it’s great to be back – and wow, I had a great time – but bow wow as Loca would say – I am so HAPPY it’s Friday, I could spit!