Marrying George Clooney

it could’ve been hollye. hollye is pretty frickin’ remarkable. oh my god. she is so extraordinary. she talked about hate and tolerance and loving each other better. she talks a lot about kindness.

yeah, maybe it was hollye.

it could’ve been melody. melody is unbelievable. truly. deeply. she talked about tolerance and kindness and treating others with respect and love.

yeah, maybe it was melody.

it could’ve been troy. troy is remarkable. he talked about loving each other unconditionally.

yeah, maybe it was troy.

it could’ve been kristine. she always talks about kindness and humanity and treating each other with respect and dignity.

yeah, maybe it was kristine.

it could’ve been linda. yeah yeah yeah, maybe. she has a huge heart. huge. like massive. massive.

yeah, maybe it was linda L..

it could’ve been richard, well, richard is always, always talking about love, and dignity and humanity.

yeah, maybe it was richard.

hmmm.

it could’ve been:

monica or julie or gregory or gigi(s) or barbara or (ellyn or susan(s)) or david or MAXEE, or spring or ROBYN, OR hope or amy f. or dennis or esther or joan or joanne or wendy or alan or frances or gary or tom or stephen or (krista or andie or brooke) or jill or denise or kathy or tina or karla or vicki or kami or fran or tom or karen or amy w. or paul or kathy or denise or debbie or john or peter or rebecca or carol or vicky or…

it coulda been.

sure.

those are just a handful of amazing, supportive, gorgeous, exquisite KIND & LOVING men & women i have encountered online, on facebook & linkedin. i just can’t for the life of me imagine what it would be like if one of them wrote hateful, hurtful, painful comments or posted anything that would cause me great shame.

i just can’t imagine.

the pain & humiliation & heartbreak that would cause me, and the shame & disgust that would cause them – that they would have to live with for the rest of their lives.

i just can’t imagine.

i’m hoping, neither can you.

this weekend i’m going to be moderating a panel at the pages & places book festival – from frontlines to headlines, the feminist panel. and of course, me being me, i’m anxious & worried & all sorts of bad  strange fearful thoughts are running through my head.

the holy shit WHAT IF thoughts.

what if i forget names, what if i can’t pronounce names, what if i’m not quick or smart enough, what if i fuck up royally, what if i make a joke and it’s not funny, what if i’m too serious and look funny, what if no one shows up, what if too many people show up, what if i can’t hear the questions, what if i can’t ask any questions… what if i have to pee? what if i have stroke? what if… what if…

oh good god the list is long.

the fear is palpable, the heart is racing. what to say? what to do? do i say anything? do i just let these 4 amazing women slash icons talk until the time is up? and then of  course the mother of all worries…. am i a feminist, a true blue feminist? or am i a borderline bi-polar feminist? and then i think, well,  yes, yes, yes of course i’m a feminist. of course. and a true indigo blue one. not the palin red grizzly one.

oh doubt & fear & worry –  bad neighbors, each and every one of them. bad loud shitty nasty neighbors.

and then i speak to another friend who is also moderating a panel that weekend, and she has done this for a long, long time – this moderating panel stuff, and she tells me that she is anxious & nauseous & on edge…

and then i think about all the amazing talented folks who have stage fright, and social fears and they go out there … get on the stage, perform, sing, recite, speak … and they don’t pee in their pants or projectile vomit.

then i think, realize: sure, yeah, fear gives you courage.

BINGO.

fear gives you courage.

if i want courage, i gotta look at the fear.

i’m looking.

i’m really, really looking.

i want a boatload of courage.

i just wanna preface this by saying, yes, YES… i did get it. i do now understand that what we put out there – into the world & universe – comes back to us. our doubts, our joys, our fears, our pain, our discomfort, our great happiness, our distrust, disbelief, and oh holy shit…. our deep dark fear of a confrontation.

and yet … there was another round of tests.

ken got stung by a yellow jacket and started to swell, he was scared. i was kind and gentle, and eased his worry and found a benadryl in a hot nano second in his oh so messy drawer.

i had a god awful bloody nose. our freezer was now working thanks to the repairman who showed up on time, so i was able to ice pack it. ken didn’t procrastinate one minute; tissue, ice. asap.

ken 1, amy 1.

our car did in fact “blow a head gasket,” and it blew friday night right after we brought it home, after it had been fully repaired, after i had set up an altar in my home to the gods of middletown mazda, and once again we made the pilgrimage back to the mazda dealer, and while my car gently weeped, i demanded a loaner car and/or rental car right now this minute on their dime, i said in a clear crisp voice: you didn’t repair my car, you have to pay for it. i’m not paying for your mistake. and i didn’t give up or give in and i feel grand about that.

and …

i decided to go out last night to see some friends, without ken, because  he didn’t want to go out, and was quite fine without me being home, and … i was quite fine being with our friends without ken. when i got home, i could hear him stirring in bed, so i tip-toed into the bedroom, and he was in fact awake, so i asked him if he missed me, and without missing a beat he said, “no, i needed” – get this – “my own space,” (copy cat, he repeating what i say) and before i could blow a gasket, which is my oh so natural tendency, i took a breath, leaned in, and kissed him, a long wet kiss, and said, “good, you needed your space,” and i said it without any nastiness or cynicism, or bitterness, as in “oh, go fuck yourself.”

and with that, i crawled into bed, and ken turned to me and said: “but now i’ll be able to sleep.”

i love a man with a perfect sense of timing.

okay, hands up, how many of you take less than?
come on, come on…
okay, fine i’ll be the first one with my hand way up.
me. i take less than. constantly.

holy shit.

my housekeeper comes by twice a month, i pay her 80 bucks a pop, she does surface cleaning. SURFACE FUCKING CLEANING as in: she doesn’t move furniture, or vacuum under rugs, or move tables or chairs. she cleans the surface.

and i always, with a doubt, keep my unhappiness to myself.

but you know what: not good anymore. not any more. i love her, i do, but i want my house cleaned. scrubbed. washed. i don’t need for her to be my friend, or  buddy. i need for my house to sparkle.

next rant:

i want friends to call me when i’m in trouble.  not an e-mail with some ethereal quote, BUT A CALL. a real live HEY YOU. YOU OKAY? ANYTHING I CAN DO? phone call. if i call you when you’re in pain & suffering & having a hard time, and  you can’t pick up the phone to call me, and say:” hey you okay? ken okay? sorry to hear about your shitty week….” well, then, don’t expect me to be all jolly when you resurface and wanna chat. not okay anymore.

NOT OKAY ANYMORE.

not good enough. pick up the phone. say hello. ask how i am. you don’t wanna hear that i’m going through a rough patch, that’s okay… just know that friendship means more to me than that. it’s sacred. FRIENDSHIP IS SACRED TO ME. it’s give & take. the good & bad. it’s reciprocal. or at the least, it should be. everyone is going through something, and everyone needs to know they’re cared for and loved.  it’s not good enough to say, wow, i’ve been thinking of you — pick up the phone and say it. it makes a world of difference. you’ll be able to hear someone smile when you say that.

we live in a world bombarded with selfishness, everyone is confused, suffering, torn to bits. it’s not okay anymore to say the world sucks, and then duck and cover when you’re going through a rough time. WE’RE ALL GOING THROUGH A ROUGH TIME. hold someone’s hand., reach out. be bigger. pick up the phone, step outta yourself. share your pain, let someone talk about theirs.

my friend & i made a pledge today  - a pinky pledge – that we were no longer going to set the bar way low. expectations were being elevated to new heights. we were going to set the bar at trapeze height for now on. it goes like this: we stick our neck out. you stretch yours. someone jumps. someone catches you.

less than is no longer good enough. not on a personal level, and certainly, not for the world we live in, inhabit.

mediocrity is so easy.

it takes so little to reach half way.

i’m gonna try saying “not good enough” for a week or two, and see where that takes me to.

what new heights i can reach.

maybe i won’t get far. but i’m gonna try.

Okay.
Well.
Whew.
It appears that I really truly this time no bullshit got the message slash lesson.
Un-fucking-believable.

First, at around 5, 5:30-ish, Marco the mechanic from Mazda called to say that yes our car was repaired and we could come and pick it up. So, we made plans to pick up the car this morning.

And then at around 6, 7-ish a major storm warning appeared on our brand new flat screen Panasonic television. First the beeps. Beep beep beep beep beep. Then the big bad RED FLASH, then the STORM WARNING STORM WARNING STORM WARNING banner.

Ken was outside tossing his compost. I slipped into my multi colored striped – matches my throw rug – rubber boots, and ran outside, wearing only my panties and tee shirt, screaming:

“GET INSIDE, GET INSIDE NOW.”

He with pitchfork said, “i gotta finish this.”

And I said, “DO YOU EVER, EVER, EVER WANNA HAVE SEX AGAIN? HUH, BUDDY?”

He had to think about that.

I turned and ran into the house.

Oh my god, oh my god, another fucking electrical storm. I gathered my two cats and made sure they were both as nuts as I was. Bella started biting herself, and Lotus hid in her little cat condo thing.

Then i did two things that I hardly ever do.
1) I started to breathe. Really breathing. In and out. In and out. A few times, and realized that I don’t really know how to breathe, from my soul and gut and life. I realized that I hold my breath very often. I hold it, and then when I let it out, it sounds so labored, so filled with fear and worry and doubt.

So, I breathed.

2) Then I went back outside and said to Ken very quietly:
“Please, come in. I’m scared. I need you to hold me.” And I watched as my husband melted, he put down the pitchfork and he held me and we both walked into the house, and I knew I KNEW that with this storm something was changing. Could change. Would change.

There was thunder, loud, oh so loud claps, and it was scary and Ken held me, and more importantly, I let him hold me, and the storm passed and we got into bed and both took a good, hearty dose of ambien.

And then this morning we drove an hour to pick up our car.

And all was good. The two mechanics – Chris & Marco – were so lovely & kind & accommodating & I said outloud:
“Wow, I wanna live here, you guys are so nice.”

We said good-bye, thank you, and went on our way. I drove off in the CX-7, Ken drove off in his car.

And I thought, “oh, good god, it’s over, I can breathe now.” And so I let out a huge deep sigh, and with that – right on Route 84 – a SCARY, scary light went ON on the dashboard. Oh my god, I thought, is it the battery? Maybe the battery. But no, on closer examination, no, no no…. it didn’t look like battery. i had no idea what the little icon was, and yes, I started to panic, but not as much, or as deep. and I pulled off the side of the road, put my flashes on, as trucks – big bad scary trucks – were passing, and I tried reaching Ken on his cellphone, but he wasn’t answering, and I had no idea what the fucking light was. I opened the glove compartment, took out all the fucking manuals, and looked and looked and found nothing and I found nothing because I had no idea what iI was looking for. Although I did find out that it wasn’t the battery. The battery was a different icon.  And so, I called Mazda and they said, “Come back now, and we’ll check.”

FYI, on route 84 there are no u-turns or exits for a good fifteen minutes, and so, I continued breathing and finally FINALLY got ken on the phone, and he was so wonderful & kind and miracles of miracles, I didn’t yell or freak out, I told him to go to the diner, eat something, and I would get home at some fucking point. But I said it with kindness and deep appreciation.

Okay, long story a bit shorter –  it was the engine light. As I was standing at the service counter chatting with Marco (who, yes, could tell that I was worried), waiting for the guy with the whatever-it-is device to tell me why the engine light had gone on, Chris came out from the garage, and said, “Mrs. Ferris, what are you doing back here?” and I said, “Well Chris the engine light came on and I got scared…”

And he said:

“WELL YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO LIVE HERE. YOU PUT THAT INTENTION OUT.”

Holy Shit. Holy Shit.

I put that intention out.

Oh my fucking god. And with that, I truly deeply understood with every fiber in my being that yes, yes, yes, yes THE UNIVERSE HEARS YOU.

The universe hears what you say, what you wish for, what you want. Your intention.
Yes. WE ARE HEARD. Loud & clear, and then we get pissed because we were answered.

“Wow, I really wanna live here, you guys are so nice.” Boom, the engine light goes off, and I have to go back there. I have to go back there.

And just last week I said to my doctor in a weird half funny kind of way:

“You know, I feel like i’m having a complete nervous breakdown,”

And with that, everything, and I mean everything, broke down. Exploded. Fried.
And so…

I never pay enough attention to what it is I say, what it is I ask for, what it is I truly deeply want.

The lesson learned.
I am powerful.
I am heard.

I need to believe that. I do.

We all do. We need to believe in the power of our lives. Our intentions. What we say and ask for, and change how we say it, how we phrase it.  What we need. We need to pay attention to what comes out of our mouth because we are heard. Loud and clear.

So, I’m going down that path – THAT PATH – now.

And I’m taking my husband, and my friends, and Bella & Lotus, and the two Mazda mechanics, Chris & Marco…. and a couple of new folks — HELLO JILL … with me.

for those of you who have read my blog these past few days, you know that we drove (both literally & figuratively) through a major shit & hail storm. 4 days of utter overwhelm. unbelievable.

the met-ed guy (who came to replace the down electrical wires) said to us: “yeah, yeah, that goes under an act of god.” my husband, who gets the gold star for calm & steady, said, “yeah, once, sure… but three times in two years, i’d say that goes under the act of culpability.”

and then of course, i wondered, and what if you’re a buddhist?

is it an accident? a warning? a change of karma? a time of reflection? a tree i don’t want to sit under while i’m meditating? is it about possessions? attachment? is it that i said i need to change my life, and here i am … changing my life? is it that ken and i needed to fall more in love? is that i needed to know who my real true friends are, the one’s who called and cared and checked up? is it that my faith has wavered, and i needed to awaken to something deep inside my life? is it that i felt like i was having a nervous breakdown internally prior to everything frying externally, and therefore I am in fact a psychic & intuit? (i like that.) or is it that i need to pay more attention. more. attention. (i like that more.)

and then of course i think well yes, sure: anger, fear, doubt, worry, confusion…. it’s swirling all around. in us. outside of us. internally & externally. every which where. it’s like boiling water. the micro. the macro. the little picture, the big picture. it all starts to blend. and then…

THEN…
the moment.

what & who can be replaced:
a tv.
a phone.
a car.
CALL WAITING.
a refrigerator.
a dishwasher.
a stove.
a furnace & boiler.
light bulbs.
cables & modems & electrical outlets.
washing machines & dryers.
kindles.
blackberry’s.
APP’S.
FOX NEWS.
anger, fear, doubt, worry, sarcasm, hate, cruelty, misinformation, intolerance.
oil companies.
greed. avarice. ignorance.
one night stands.
agents & managers & movie deals & book deals.
social networking.
social climbing.
sarah palin.
glenn beck.
injustice.
the entire TEA PARTY.
WAR.

piece of ass.

who & what can’t be replaced:
KEN.

husbands & wives & partners & children & family & friends & good neighbors & pets & water & clean food & amazing books & great movies & good TV, HBO & AMC & gorgeous lush vegetable and flower gardens.

TEACHERS.
NURSES.
indian chiefs.

candle-stick makers.

krista.

massages.

live theater, and funny poignant raw to the bone writing & art, and all crafts.

& PRINT.

great sex.

amazing music, & rock n’ roll & gorgeous powerful singing/voices that lift & heal & make you wanna shout:

THE ROLLING STONES
ERIC CLAPTON
k.d. lang
JOE COCKER
GARLAND JEFFERIES
TROY DEXTER
HOLLYE HOLMES DEXTER
JULIE SILVER.
JONI MITCHELL
elton john
ARETHA
SPRINGSTEEN
simon & garfunkel
peter, paul & mary
LAURA NYRO.

CAP 21 theater CO.

humor.
determination.
heart.
love, goodness, kindness.
human contact, kisses & hugs & compliments & curiosity.

spooning.

democracy & human decency
religious freedom.

HOPE & CHOICE.

peace of mind.

first it was the head gasket in the car. BLOWN. TOWED. GONE. BABY. GONE.
then, the next morning, BOOM. a tree falls on a live wire at our neighbors house, and we had a complete horrific power surge – 240 watts going into our house – all TV’s, electronics, furnace, phones, cable, dishwasher, appliances. BOOM. FRIED. GONE, BABY, GONE.

then we waited all day & night for the cable guy – all day and all night – ken & i waited together, like two pea’s in a fucking pod hotel.

and then finally, FINALLY at 7:40 PM, the cable man arrived. i cried. i felt as if he was a long lost friend or relative bringing a cable box & modem instead of chocolates as a house warming gift. i wanted to hug him, but ken thought that was too much and feared it might end with inviting him for dinner & wine. after a minute or so, examining the cable/TV damage, he said non-challantly:

“hey, man, you know when i walked in, it looked like your roof’s been smokin.’”

OH MY GOD. EXCUSE ME?

(turned out to be NOTHING. we had a fire in the fireplace, and it was just, you know, letting off some smoke & steam.)

but it was then, at that moment, i blew a gasket. and the only white wine we had in our refrigerator – in the back, hidden next to pitted calamata olives – was with a label that read: MOMMY’S TIME OUT.

i found a nice little corner, tucked myself away, and had a glass of wine. every inch of me fried to the core,

and for amusement, here’s todays horoscope:
It’s reassuring to have a healthy level of togetherness in a relationship with a lover or best friend. But be careful of being attached at the hip and spending every spare minute together; it’s only a matter of time before those traits you once thought were irresistible turn irritating.

for the record: he’s still irresistible.

it’s been a few days since i’ve written my blog.
i have to be really honest, i’m very addicted. and if there were a bloggers anonymous, i would be getting up and speaking and saying: hi my name is amy, i haven’t blogged in about 36 hours, and my greatest fear is that no one gives a shit.

but i know that’s not totally true.
not totally. i know a few folks missed me. they’ve called.

so, the good news is i have much to share since i’ve been gone.

two days ago i almost ran out of gas, and so, i pulled into a NO FRILLS GAS STATION.
thus began my journey.

i fired my agent. it was scary & hard & yet at the same time i was living in such fear for so long that i actually felt as if i was (maybe) a battered writer. i am going to live in a safe house with other authors & writers who have experienced the same awful self-doubt, self-hatred, & horrific emotional & creative block. that should be a fun few weeks.

ken & i drove into nyc yesterday. we had our yearly medical check-up TOGETHER – as in literally “TOGETHER.” i mean, together, in the same examination room. i mean, our doctor was running a bit late, so he asked if we would BOTH go upstairs, to the same room, so he can examine us simultaneously. this was not planned, and i wanna say for the record, seeing my husband in a short blue paper gown with white piping was not exciting or sexy. nor was he excited seeing me hooked up to an EKG. and… we can no longer lie about how much we each weigh, and i know more about my husband’s prostate than i ever cared to know, and on the flip-side, ken knows a bit more about my breast fibroid(s) and newly discovered (as of yesterday) mental illness. although truth be told, our internist (who we both deeply enjoy independently!) seemed to think this was a huge fun experience, and a real kick. we both got pharmaceutical samples. ken got cialis, i got lexapro. the doctor said one of the side effects of lexapro is that i will maybe possibly have no sex drive. i looked at him. i looked at the cialis packages he had just given ken and i said: “what’s up with that joke?”

and then there was some problem with another patient, who was screaming and carrying on, and all kinds of shit was happening, and i told ken, “you know what, i’m gonna go get the car at the parking garage.” leaving him to pay, both literally & figuratively.

and then we drove around new york city for oh, about an hour and a half because traffic was unbearable. UN FUCKING BEARABLE. ken wanted to score some marijuana so he could relax, i wanted to buy a gun so i could go on a killing spree.

and then we met up with most of my cousins for dinner. the only surprise – other than seeing my cousin richard who i didn’t expect to see – which was so lovely & delightful – was that no one – not one cousin – seems to age at all. all gorgeous amazing people. truly. whew.

and then on our drive home, the engine light went on, and then the thermostat needle went sky high right through the H is for HEAT roof, and then … a semi-pleasant (with an occasional fuck you, no fuck you) 90 minute drive turned into a 3.5 hour hell-storm of fear and worry and pulling over to the shoulder and calling triple AAA and pulling over to the shoulder, and holy shit holy shit holy shit… and pulling into one gas station where the gas station attendant gave us bogus info, and yes, yes, we TIPPED HIM, thank you very much, and then we drove a bit more, and ken was utterly convinced that we were gonna blow sky high, and i was chanting & praying both out loud and to myself, and he yelled at me to PRAY & CHANT LOUDER and i said FUCK YOU, and he said LOUDER FASTER you have to pray & chant FOR BOTH OF US… and i was like, excuse me, i am praying & chanting for both of us, and then we pulled into another gas station and the attendant seemed a bit more knowledgeable about ‘engine’ issues, opened the hood, and voila, seems one of the things we needed was water, so two quarts of water later, and we TIPPED THAT GUY, and pulled out of the gas station, and then i turned to ken and said, looks like ‘our’ prayer was answered and we laughed & calmed down for oh, about a minute, and then the thermostat went sky high again, and ken told me to “PRAY & CHANT STRONGER AND LOUDER AND FASTER.” i told him to pray & chant for his own life, and then i stared out the window, thinking, a sign, i just need a sign… please, please, please… a sign…

and then i remembered with great clarity:

when we were leaving the doctors office, the screaming and carrying on was coming from an old – very old – fragile, sweet & weary woman with dementia — and she was SCREAMING at the top of her lungs:

GOD TOLD ME I’M GONNA GO CRAZY TODAY.
GOD TOLD ME I’M GONNA GO CRAZY TODAY.

and so…
i turned to ken who was going nuts as he gripped the steering wheel. I grabbed his white knuckled hand, and said:
you remember that woman in the doctors office, the woman screaming, and he nodded yes, yes, yes and i said, “today is her day, let’s give it to her, let her have the whole crazy day to herself.”

with that, the thermostat needle went right smack between H & C for about five minutes, giving us enough emotional stamina to get the fuck home. and today we found out that we indeed had blown the ‘head’ gasket.

and i just wanna say for the record, the term ‘sex drive’ has a completely new meaning to me now.

(a love letter to my husband)

Dear Ken,
Thank you.
Thank you for loving me, for loving me good.
Thank you for putting up with my shit. I don’t know how you do it, but you do, and you do it with such grace and kindness and it just makes me love you more.
Thank you for the gorgeous garden and the beautiful home, and the care you put into our lives. every single day without fail.
Thank you for holding me when I’m scared and worried. That is a huge massive job, and you took it on without a fight.
Thank you for being so generous. In every way humanly possible.
Thank you for your passion and spirit and determination – not just in our life – but in the world you live in, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, open your heart, forgive easily, share your opinions and fight the good fight. I am so fucking proud of you.
Thank you for paying attention after I kick & scream & holler for you to pay attention to me.
Thank you for working so hard.
Thank you for the magic you seem to create in the moments when I so need some magic.
Thank you for being a very good man, a great husband, a spectacular gardener, a joyous friend, a sexy lover. Thank you for being oh so funny. For making me laugh.
I am so frickin’ lucky. and yes, yes, i know, i know … you are too. but today it’s all about you. tomorrow it can be all about me.

I so very much love you.
A lot.