Home to California

mm 318 Goethe University with the sign MADE IN CHINA on the lawn.

The flight home was twelve hours. The flight straggled on and on. But it was Lufthansa. They’re pretty nice to you, but that’s a long flight.

In Frankfurt, I walked back and forth to the book fair every day and most days it rained. I walked with my umbrella , my sweater and the coat that Teresa gave me which is purple inside. I wore the tights Lisa gave me and the boots I bought myself which although cute and grey made my feet want to commit suicide which is more difficult for feet to do all by themselves then you might imagine. Feet suicide. Do it in socks. Less of a mess.

The first couple nights I got takeout so I could catch up on my work while I ate dinner. Then there was a very late night dinner with the group. It was one of those nights when you leave book fairs that I’ve had so many times I can’t count. There had been a whiskey party with shots. Makers, Johnnie Walker. I’m into Makers. Fritz was there and I like him. Some other guy leaning in close and telling me he liked Californians. I don’t know what that’s code for.

Then someone says, let’s go out and they have a neighborhood in mind where inevitably we’re going to find the right food. We go there on a crowded train. We find a place. Nobody has reservations. Jeffrey doesn’t want to go there. We keep walking. He wants to go to Adoph Wagner. I’m thinking that’s a little too German. Like hyper German. German to the 10th power. I’m uneasy but we go there and we can’t get in. That’s fine. Then we try to find some other place, but Jeffrey says we need to find apple wine and some kind of cognac that’s orange and has loquats or kumquats. Some kind of quat. We go by several more restaurants. We see French and Italian, but Jeffrey is dedicated to the search for apple wine. Jeffrey seems to know a lot about food especially kimchee. So we follow him. We end up back at the first place. We get a huge pitcher of apple wine. Erica and I have green sauce, hard boiled eggs and potatoes, the rest of them huge sausages the size of a baby’s arm. Then they get more. Erica says we must get coffee and dessert. Since I don’t want either and it’s going to involve another hour and another search, I should have just gone back to the hotel then, but you know how you don’t want to be a deserter. By that time so much apple wine, and the cognac. I wasn’t in love with German food. Home maybe 12:30? I got near the hotel and then remembered they lock it up at 11, but I still got in. I want to go see the town where Jeffrey lives; it sounds very cool.

Last night Nancy and I went to this Italian restaurant and told each other our life stories. We sounded like these people that need therapy. She seemed surprised that I hadn’t gone, so my life story sounds like someone just crying for the couch. We were sharing traumas, the seafood risotto was good, and the tiramisu. Now that I’m back in California, no more desserts or cake or carbs so I just yummed it down. Nancy is my kind of person, all spill and wild and energy. A lot of clouds, but I like clouds.

I saw Annie Hall which I liked, I suppose everyone on the planet in the Western world has seen this movie. My impression in my little haze of a flight watching this movie.

1. The Los Angeles scenes make L.A. seem very clean. That’s because they’re in the rich parts of L.A. It’s also very sunny and it’s sort of glamorous in the movie when it’s also crowded.
2. I love Christopher Walken, so cool to see him so young.
3. Woody Allen is so annoying in this movie; it makes me crazy to see how horrible he is to the women in his life. I mean much has been said about this movie and I suppose nothing I can add would be interesting, but I’m thankful that I wasn’t around then. Seriously. Who wants a man who is giving you orders, talking down to you, telling you what you should learn? Don’t tell me what I should learn. Please. I’m learning.
4. Jeff Goldblum is so hot in his brief moment in the movie. Jeff could boss me around for five minutes. I could take it.
5. What is it with New Yorkers being in analysis? I know a lot of Californians in therapy too. What I want to know is are you getting better? Okay, right now I am fine but could be better. I think everything is already fantastic but definitely could be better around the edges. Especially the work edges. Not so much the parent edges or marriage edges. Well, sometimes. I can be one of those wives that’s like, “What? What are you saying?” And then he says, “Are you listening? Do you hear me?” And then I say, “What, did you say something?” That’s not good. I admit it. Okay, so you want to fix the edges or the middle. So you go to therapy. If I am going to go therapy, I don’t want to be a normal woman any more, I want to be a superwoman.

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Published in: on October 12, 2013 at 5:13 pm  Comments (1)  
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  1. Jet-lagged-fabu-babble. I hear you about Jeff G – a fascinating cat and I kinda have to blame Mia and Diane for Woody – they never stick up for themselves and always act so daft and helpless they almost encourage his strange ways.

    Thanks Kate – looking forward to LA in December even more now 🙂


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