This morning I’m starting the drive to Los Angeles, and while I like nothing better than to be on the road, it is absolutely heartbreaking to leave my sweet little Lucy and my love Tessa back in New York. They’ll meet me there in ten days or so by plane, but I have to drive so that we have the car (and our geriatric dog).
It’s my first long trip away from my wife in a while, and it’s the first trip ever away from my daughter. Plenty of friends and chipping in to help, and we’ve got some nanny coverage, but still, taking care of the li’l one is a HUGE job and Tessa, like Morrissey sang, has only got two hands.
She and I have never packed lightly, but throw all the shit a baby requires into the mix, and the Prius will be laden with clothes for a future 4-month old, a battery-operated swing, myriad methods of carting her around, and of course, all the various ways to collect and temporarily store poop.
Before I leave, I’d like to tell everyone in New York to have a wonderful summer – especially the Fleet Weekers who are working hard to headline the 2005 Fringe Festival in two months. Lindsay, Mac, Sean and Jordana have finally got their due, and we’ll be back to cheer them on in August for a kee-razy NYC weekend of wanton sex, cocaine use and musicals about gay sailors with identity crises.
Meanwhile, I’ll try to amuse you all with my usual turgid, self-involved, slightly-snooty persiflage from the deepest mauve of the red states. And if you’re anywhere on this line:
…tell me so I can wave as I drive past!