Hey. I wrote this on Saturday night and couldn’t post it until today. So there.

Thanks to all you crazy commenters from the last post. I can’t believe all the wonderful people who read my blog! (All 5 of you!) And you answered my questions! How lovely. Onto more important things. Do you want to know what I had for dinner tonight?

String beans and garlic sauce and tofu and a non-vegan chocolate chip cookie!

How’s my diet going?

Fine! Well. Good actually, REALLY good. A lot less sugar, a lot less crap. Welllll…up until yesterday when I boarded a plane and consumed this blueberry scone from Starbucks that was totally not vegan and then drank 12 ounces of vanilla soymilk to counterbalance that fact and then thought about how I ate a bagel with tofu creamcheese for breakfast earlier that day and then decided, in TOTAL bad dieter fashion to throw the whole day to hell and finish it off with a plate of pasta and tomato sauce ten times the size of my head. My sugar rush was so bad that around 10 pm, I was lip-synching in the hotel lobby to that old song, “If You Don’t Know Me By Now.” My employer looked at me, shook his head, and went to find a glass of scotch. YOU WILL NEVER EVER EVER KNOW ME! OOO OO OOO!! Who sings that song? What? Where’s my sugar?! MMMMMM.

Anyway. I boarded a plane, yes, indeed, I’m off on another one of those dang business trips.

This time, I went down South to West Palm Beach instead of over West. The boys are here visiting their grandparents and it’s been quite an adventure despite the fact that I didn’t meet any shrews on the plane ride this time. My life, it is so very difficult, getting dragged on vacation after vacation. SIGH.

It’s 86 degrees and this morning, it was so humid that I felt like I walked out of the hotel and into a dense murky fog. Well, a dense, murky 1,000 degree Amazon kind of fog. Where there are lots and lots of old people. And I mean LOTS. Dick with a diving injury, cousin Beverly who’s husband has a kidney problem, Aunt Marsha and Uncle Irving who can’t stay long because they live 40 minutes away and might hit traffic on the way back, etc. I’m hesitant to write out snippets of conversation or ramble too long about what it’s like to be a shiksa in Boca for the weekend because I don’t want to offend anyone, first of all, because let’s be fair and honest, these vibrant retirees have been so wonderful to me. They are so incredibly sweet and thoughtful, all the time and I appreciate that so much.

And yet, and yet, how can I NOT give you an inkling of what it’s like to spend a weekend in a condo in Boca Raton? You wouldn’t even BELIEVE ME if I quoted direct conversations. You’d accuse me of being stereotypical or unfair or judgmental. But holy, just, wow. I’m technically on a “working vacation” which means yeah, I have to run after two twin boys but also, it’s so warm and beautiful that I should be able to relax a bit. But! NO! I can’t! You guys! I can’t breathe! I’m so stressed out because everyone down there is so stressed out and WHY ARE THEY SO STRESSED OUT, THEY LIVE IN FLORIDA ON THE BEACH!?

Can I at least say that they are very…concerned about things. And by things, I mean EVERYTHING. From what I’m eating for lunch to how bad the traffic is down to Miami, to whether or not I’ve applied SPF 55 in the last 20 minutes, etc. Retired Floridians from Long Island are in a class of their own and have provided me a lot of anxiety and stress as well as many delicious meals and fun-filled car rides and what? you don’t eat ANY dairy? Laura! I don’t believe that! Why not? OH you’re one of those VEGETARIANS?! But come on, Laura! It’s delicious! A little bit of cheese, would it kill you?!

Actually, it almost did. In the form of a gas bubble. But I decided not to tell them that because then I would be subjected to a tirade about hospitals and I just couldn’t take that one more time, not after the lecture on cheese which was, at best, better than the lecture on speed bumps and how to avoid them at all costs lest we upset the passengers in the car. SPEED BUMPS! They are so off-putting! Let’s have dessert! Is ice cream dairy? Laura, have some ice cream! What!? You don’t eat that either?! But it’s fat-free coffee chocolate swirl! Fat-free because of my heart, you know I have a condition, don’t you? No fat, no sugary juices. Can you pass me the pound cake?

So, I was all set to spend this entry whining. (Wait, I just did.) But really, there is never enough room for whining and I wanted to whine SO SO much. I wanted to whine about my insecurities, about my fears, about how I can’t book another acting job to save my life, about how I can’t even get a CALLBACK, about how I’m in this casting workshop class thing that overwhelms me because all the girls are so good and they belt their faces off and I just don’t know what I’m doing in that class or what I’m doing in general and OH MY GOD WHY CAN’T I FALL IN LOVE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE?

Men are interested in me and I get myself out of those potentially romantic situations as fast as humanly possible because either 1) They just aren’t the right guy for me or B) I am incapable of falling in love with a human. What’s the answer? I wish I knew! You decide. Let me know. I’m curious. And so are the men. SIGH. Am such a JERK. Have some cheese, Laura! A little American? With turkey on a roll? This roll, it’s so fresh! What? You don’t eat turkey, either? Why not? Oh! You’re a VEGETARIAN! Do you want tunafish instead? WHAT? No tuna!? Just have a bite, it’s delicious.

But you know. I can’t whine. I can’t. I’m 24 years old. I don’t suck that much. I may not have an acting career at the moment or a boyfriend or the ability to let a boy into my life, but I have a job. A job that supports me financially, allows me to pay my bills and still have some leftover to put in my Savings Account which is labeled “Money To Use When I Adopt My Cambodian Child In 10 Years”. More importantly, this job fills me with an amount of pure joy and wonder that I never thought possible.

I have been so blessed by having two amazing employers who take care of me in so many wonderful ways. And even better, the two little boys who I babysit for give me a sense of pride and a sense of purpose and sometimes they even share their french fries with me. I can’t whine to you or complain to you about the crap in my life because these two little twins shower me with constant love, affection and various bits of food that gets stuck in my hair.

And I’m spending the weekend with them. The whole weekend. In 86 degree weather. On the beach as in the OCEAN which, for the record is a balmy 81 degrees. I’ve taken full advantage of this by putting the boys in their swim diapers, grabbing them by the hand and running headfirst into the ocean, while we all scream our heads off because oh my God, sometimes it doesn’t get much better than that. I really really need to blow off steam like that, just to make myself relax a little because wow, these Floridians, a lot of them are mighty uptight.

I’m pretty sure screaming your head off while the Atlantic washes over your legs makes everything better. Except of course if you get sea lice. Do you know that when the water gets over 80 degrees, you could get sea lice? Or just get really sandy! Oh God, tons of sand at the beach, did you know that? The babies, they could get hurt! With the sand! Or they could drown! Are you hungry? Don’t worry. I packed a lunch. Cheese sandwiches. Oh! I forgot! Laura, you don’t eat dairy. Seriously? No dairy? What? Just have some swiss, would it kill you to just try a piece?

Thank God I love these boys.