These Boots Were Meant For Walking. Or Fleeing.

My mother sent me an email recently worried about my cats and if they have flees. Really. She spelled it like that. Now, my mother is a smart woman, but she spelled fleas "flees" at least three times in her email. I don't think it was a mistake. Well, not subconsciously at least. In her eyes, in my eyes, I'm fleeing.

Failing is hard. See. That's how I feel. This moving home part of the equation. Not the anticipated move to New York. It's just when I think about moving home. When I think about getting a storage space and selling my appliances-- which I was so excited to buy-- I feel as if I tried my hardest for over five years and I failed. That's hard. I know people do it all the time. Fail. And move home. But I didn't want to be one of them. I really did want to be a success story. I know I don't have a choice right now. I don't have back up. No one is going to rescue me. It's just me. And I am lucky to have a place to go. Some of my friends have had to take care of their parents. I'm lucky my mom can take care of herself. And give me a place to live. And write.

I was supposed to go to San Francisco this weekend for work and I just couldn't. I couldn't get on another airplane. I couldn't be away from home again. I needed the time. I needed a rest. Even though I have so much to do. Just the errands are overwhelming. From being out of town all the time. From being gone. And they have nothing to do with moving. Which is going to be whole other thing to deal with. All of my shoes needed to be taken into the shoe man-- where I got chastised for letting them get this bad-- but I was never home long enough to be able to give them all up. Even now, I had to hold onto two pairs or I'd have nothing to wear. I don't own a lot of shoes. I did see Rose McGowan there. At Pasquale. She's tiny. She has a lot of shoes. Then I went to the tailor. And the drycleaner. Things needed to be cleaned and repaired. Linings of coats, hems, pants taken in.

After going to the shoe man, I went to buy a pair of boots. Flat boots. For walking. In New York. At Barneys New York. I saw Jenny McCarthy there. With Jim Carey. She looked like a pin up. Her ass is even cut. You can tell in jeans. Jim Carey looked like a homeless person. I didn't realize it was him until I saw her. She was buying boots, too. But on the first floor. Me? I went to Co Op. Believe it or not, my boots were reasonable. And beautiful. It took me two hours to decide on them. I get anxiety when I buy things nowadays. Even things I need. I had gotten past that when I was making money. But that was a long time ago. And the anxiety? It's back. With not having to pay the last month's rent, I could actually afford to buy them. But just one pair. Even though I could use two. One black pair for day. One for night. But for now, it's just one pair that does everything. For day. It's not like I go out at night anymore anyway. Although I think I will in New York. Thank God Shawna the sales girl is nice and let me park my ass in the Co Op shoe section forever while I debated. I've known Shawna for years. Back when I didn't have to think so hard about buying boots.

I also ran into a writer from Drew Carey at Barneys. He was there with his wife and his two year old girl. I haven't seen him in over five years. His daughter is beautiful. Just darling. An LA girl for certain. She was wearing Ugg boots, sweats and a hip sweater. Her dad is the one who built her a $50,000 tree house in Brentwood. I think I mentioned it here. Well, the writer and I caught up. I told him about New York. And next week, he asked me to lunch. I had emailed him a few times over the years wanting to-- we used to get nosh a fair amount when I was on the show-- but afterwards, he kept dodging me. We'll see if it happens. I hope so. Although I don't expect it to.

Being in LA is the strangest thing now. I don't want to be here. The traffic is horrendous. I don't want all of my things. I feel like I have too many things. Not necessarily things I want or can sell. Just stuff. I do want a fresh start. A new job. A new city. Possibility. I just don't want to go home.