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Monthly Archive for September, 2009

Compensation and why Carl Jung might have watched Keeping up with the Kardashians too

Swiss psychoanalyst, C. G. Jung believed that the psyche contained a self-regulatory tendency. He called this function of the psyche “compensation”. When one becomes too one-sided in their attitude or energy, the psyche in an attempt at establishing balance will induce an opposite or balancing action or attitude. For example, let’s say there was a weasel who was spending all her time writing a book and a proposal and when she wasn’t doing those things she blogged. After weeks and weeks of doing little other than studying and writing, this weasel woke one day, Monday for example, and could not bring herself to even touch her computer. She spent eight full hours on the couch wrapped in a down blanket and silently and thoughtlessly and happily sat through three episodes of the House-husbands of Hollywood and two episodes of the Kardashians—and accomplished nothing else of any intellectual or creative importance.

If one didn’t know about Jung’s concept of compensation one might worry that such a fictional weasel might have lost her mind. Thanks to Jung we know that if such a thing were to occur it would be the psyche’s attempt to compensate from an imbalance of too much thought. The psyche is wise and knows that no thought is possible when watching the Kardashians, other than the stray thoughts about Bruce Jenner’s unusual and somewhat effeminate appearance.

One hopes that with this kind of extreme compensation that such a weasel would quickly get back to homeostasis and step away from the Househusbands of Hollywood and quickly get back to her computer and creative work. If such a weasel were able to write a blog post about such an experience it would be a sign that a corrective compensation has occurred and that said weasel was getting back to normal, hypothetically.

Tooting my own horn, drinking champagne and He-weasel and Lily do a Paw-de-Two

I am, as one would be in my shoes, a little hesitant to discuss my happiness. My fear, because of my history, both recent and ancient, makes my hypervigilant about not saying in too loud of voice that I am happy as I fear as soon as I say it my happiness will be taken from me. It has happened. My mother is especially gifted at taking any good thing that happens to me and turn it into an occasion of grief. She will remind me how short lived happiness is and that this good thing isn’t as good as it could be and that in fact it really isn’t that good anyways. Or, if she is in a different kind of mood she will envy the good thing and ask how it can benefit her. Either way the happiness is taken and I am left feeling worse than I did before the good thing arrived.

There have been other happinesses that have been taken from me by no fault of my own and no fault of my mother. Fate, dumb luck, or bad luck have on occasion taken the happy out of my hands before I had time to even notice that I was happy. Not this time.

Thanks to Igor and to my hard work, I have somehow moved from sort of happy, mildly hedonic and happy-ish into full blown happy. I only came to that conclusion yesterday when in my session with Igor I did a little review of my accomplishments in our almost one year together and I felt truly proud of myself. I had survived a year in L.A. I am no longer depressed. I am no longer on Vitamin W. I have managed to end friendships with bird friends. I have established healthy boundaries with my mother. I have completed two book proposals. I just finished Chapter One of Thursdays with Igor. Chapter Two is almost finished. By next week the proposal for Thursday with Igor will be ready to submit. After I shared all my successes with Igor I felt strangely self-satisfied, “That’s a lot for a year” I said in an uncharacteristic tone of glee. Igor agreed in a tone that communicated that he too was celebrating my success and his.

I left Igor’s office floating on Cloud Seven( only two clouds away from 9) and thought the strangest thing, “I am living in Valencia and I am happy.” If that doesn’t sound like a huge accomplishment to you that means you have never been in Valencia. As I drove home I thought of even more things I have accomplished this year: I have the best hair I have ever had ( thank you, Hair Angel). I got my darling dog-aughter. I have trained her to do many amazing and impressive tricks. I managed to maintain the blog during some really difficult times. My joy grew to the point that I realized a celebration was in order.

I stopped at Whole Foods and bought a bottle of champagne, two ridiculously expensive steaks and I came home and made a cake. I felt so good that I even wanted to work out. Weird, huh? I wish you were here to celebrate as I know that you, dear reader, have played a large part in all of this. I feel sure I wouldn’t have managed all of this without you. Thank you for your support, encouragement, and for being here. Your presence makes a difference in my life and for that I thank you. Since I can’t give you any cake or champagne I give you Lily.

In your honour Lily does her celebratory dance of joy. Care to join her?

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Someone’s been sitting in my chair

Last week there was a mix up about my regular time. It wasn’t Igor’s fault. The fault was mine. I arrived 50 minutes early. Well, it would have been only one minute early if I hadn’t messed things up as I did with getting the time wrong. I walked into Igor’s waiting room and there was this girl. Girl? Well, she is young–younger than me; much younger than me. I am guessing she is in college. 20′s. Maybe mid-20′s? I don’t know. But I know that she is beautiful, really beautiful, the kind of Persian beauty that makes me wish my blue eyes were brown.

She sat on the sofa, a place I have never sat. I stood there for a moment dumbfounded to find someone else in the office. I just stood there. I stood there a little too long, actually. But I suppose shock does make people do strange things. I couldn’t go on standing there. I had to do or say something. So I asked, “Is your appointment at 12:00 or 12:50?”.
“12:00″ she answered flatly.
I think I said “oh” and then I turned to walk out the door a bit flumoxed by seeing someone in my time and space.

I know I had given up this time. It was my choice to do so. But now that she had it I felt a twinge of something. It wasn’t jealousy or anger or anything like that. Sadness is as close as I can come to naming it and yet there is something under the sadness.I don’t really have siblings ( very long story) but I imagine that whatever it was that it was nothing like sibling rivalry. I realize Igor is not mine. I share him with a case load of other’s who also have Igor for an hour a week. I am really okay with that. I don’t need him or want him to myself. Even though I am technically an only child I do share well with others( except the remote control and the last Skinny Cow in the fridge).

I went off to get a manicure and tried not to give any thought to this young girl having my place and time. I kept my eye on the clock as fifty minutes go very fast when you are getting your nails done and not so fast when you are at Igor’s.

As my nails were being filed I developed a whole fantasy about this girl. She lives in a high-rise on Wilshire Blvd. with her parents. She attends UCLA and is in a sorority. She models occasionally but really wants to be a pediatrician. She is the oldest child of three siblings. Her father is an antiques dealer and has a small but successful gallery on Little Santa Monica. Her mother is more like a best friend than a mother. She is very over protected by both parents and she likes it and yet rebels about it in an age appropriate manor. She is dating a guy in law school who wants to marry her. This is one of her problems she brings to Igor, every guy she meets wants to marry her. Up until now her parents have been very against her dating seriously. But her parent’s really like the boy and think she should marry him. She really likes him, maybe loves him, but if she marries him she knows she will never go to medical school. She is sad—this pretty, smart and beloved girl—or so she is in my fantasy of her.

Now here is the really strange thing, not once did I think to myself, “I bet Igor likes her more than he likes me” and there was a time in my life, thanks to my father, that thought thought would have immediately come to mind. Even after I created this elaborate fantasy in which the girl is younger, prettier( so pretty she models), is adored by her father (unlike me) and all men, smart enough to get into medical school( my SAT math scores couldn’t get me into a nursing assistant vocational school) and yet never have I ever feel more certain that Igor enjoys our time together and that he really likes me and thinks I am smart and funny.

The even stranger thing is that for all “her” beauty, potential, love, and father adoration, I wouldn’t trade with her. Yes, being adored by your father and so beautiful you can model and so smart you can go to medical school and being a size two and being an exotic Persian beauty with no need for Botox has its up sides. But, really and truly I wouldn’t trade with her. For all my imperfection I kind of like where I am in my life. How did that happen? How did Igor do that? How did I get to the place of not wanting to be her and being happy-ish with being me?

When I left my session with Igor I felt especially happy–ish and hedonic but then my thoughts went back to the girl who had my 12:00 time and the fantasy that I constructed and that strange sadness returned.

This week I will be on time.

Belette malade

Friday night, when He-weasel and I were out walking Lily, I started to get weak, dizzy, chilled, achy, nauseous and I had completely lost my appetite for the dinner I made before we left for our walk. Two hours later and I knew all my weekend plans were going to have to be replaced with a treatment plan.

My weekend wardrobe( an essential element in my treatment plan)has been this healing hoodie and immune system boosting lounging pants( I highly recommend both. I love the pants so much that I am ordering three more pairs, as they are now my favorite PJ pant of all time, and I will also be getting a few more of the fantastic light weight hoodie—LOVE them both!). I also had on my favorite pair of the World’s Softest Socks that Lily usually loves to chew on. However, Lily seeing that I was sick let me wear the socks for the whole weekend without once trying to turn them into a chew toy.

My activities have been limited to moaning about feeling like crap, sleeping and watching TV. In the last 48 hours I have watched more television than I have watched all month. I am not sure if it was the specific shows I watched that helped me heal but just in case I though I would share the details:
3 episodes of Poirot
1/2 of the Sex and the City movie( I couldn’t bear to watch the whole thing)
Trinny and Susannah (I wish Trinny would reveal where she gets her necklaces. She has the best costume jewelry wardrobe).
Little Children.(Great acting but sad, depressing and creepy)
A Very Long Engagement (Love this movie!)
2 episodes of Inspector Lewis(My new favorite mystery)
2 episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm(I am so happy it is back on!)

I am feeling much better. One more day of pajamas, Gatorade, bad TV and rest and I should be back in the pink. Or should that be red? Either way I am taking today off. I should be back to your blog and back to being Belette Rouge, and no longer Belette malade, by Wednesday.

Why I am happy-ish, hedonic and not unhappy

1. “Thursdays with Igor” is going well. My new chapter one is done-ish. I am hoping this weekend to move from done-ish into done. Please send good mojo. I am not sure I believe in mojo but there are times in life when you are so aware of your own limitations that it is best to ask others for help.

2. I received in the mail a DVD of Spalding Grey’s Monster in a Box. I have a VHS of it in our storage unit but as it is back to being 100 degrees in Valencia I didn’t have the physical and emotional strength to hunt for Spalding in a Box( Get it? In a box!!!!:-). Monster in a Box is one of my favorite films on writing and I am using this DVD as a reward for when I actually move from done-ish to done with chapter one. If any of you have not seen Spalding’s monlogues, I suggest you see all of them immediately. He was a tremendous talent and I continue to grieve his loss.

3. Igor was especially on yesterday. There was no crying, profound insights, or unlocking of buried unconscious content. All he did was normalize introversion and for me that is something I need this to be done on a regular basis, kind of like an oil change. Every 1500 miles I need someone to remind me that I am not a freak for hating parties. It’s just that the U.S. culture is so extroverted that us book loving introverts can be made to feel like we are freaks for not wanting to go out, go to parties or make small talk (Tell me, are there people who love small talk? I judge not, I just want to know).

As it turns out Igor is an introvert too. He didn’t say that he was, rather he shared a story in which the obvious subtext was that he too suffers when in large groups and when real connection is not possible. It was a comfort to hear that I am not alone in my inability to enjoy parties.

Igor also spent some of the session talking about the importance of me preparing for when I go on book tours. He advised that I use every extroverted activity( groups where more than four or more meet) as a practice session for my book events. What I loved about this was not his brilliant idea of using BBQ’s of obligation as a practice session for when I am traveling and promoting the book, no, what I loved is that he seems to be certain that I will sell the book. He really and truly believes that one day I will be on a book tour. I love Igor!

4. I have been having really good hair days lately. I want to give credit to Jonathan’s Hydrating Mask and yet I feel that it may just be dumb luck. If I am wrong, and it turns out that it is Jonathan who should get the credit, I’ll let you know.

5. I had the best manicure of my life yesterday in Beverly Hills. It wasn’t that it was especially luxurious—there were no rose petals, orchid water, massages, or glasses of champagne to sip on as I waited( yes, I have had that manicure). It was just that this manicurist managed to make my nails look really good. Before meeting my nails best friend, Kitty, I thought I just had funky nail beds and that I was incapable of getting the shape I wanted. It turns out that my nails are perfectly capable of a good shape when placed in the right hands. Kitty is such a brilliant manicurist that she even picked out a nail colour that she though would best work with my nail bed. I had never heard of that before. My nails look so good that I cannot stop looking at them. I even have asked He-weasel to admire them at least five times. He is being a good sport and continuing to tell me how great they look. I fear if I ask again today he may grow weary.

Good hair, good Igor, and good nails. Can life get better than this? I dare not dream.

6. For the last couple of months I have been pretty much devoid of retail desires. I am not sure if it was depression or I just don’t need anything or if I was too busy to think about stuff or that lately J Crew has been too ruffly to make me want. Yesterday all that changed. Thanks to LPC at Privilege, I want these J Crew pencil skirts!!! Never before in my life have I wanted a peacock blue or orchid skirt. I do know that it is psychologically significant that I want these skirts. I would say that they reflect my current state of happy-ish-ness.Who am I and what happened to the me that had only black skirts??? As I have never owned these colors before I have no idea what to wear with them. Advice, please!

7. I finally got Lily her tutu. Pictures soon to come.

8. Starting in late October I am going to be spending every Wednesday in Santa Barbara. I love Santa Barbara and cannot wait to begin this weekly getaway. More news to come on this. For now all I can say is that I am pretty sure that my time in SB will help me deal with the other six days a week in Valencia.

9. I made Randal scream in silent terror. Trust me, it was all in good fun.

10. Lucky me, I am seeing ENC tomorrow. There will be shopping, lunching, and delightful conversation.

Please share something you are happy about. I’d love to share in your happy. I hope your weekend is highly hedonic and happy filled.

19-25 of 365

(365 Things that don’t suck about L.A.)


19. Roscoes chicken and waffles
A town cannot be all bad that has a restaurant where you can get waffles and chicken on the same plate. I am sure that to many of the uninitiated this combination sounds disgusting. Let me assure you that it is not. And yes, the syrup does indeed go on the chicken.

20. Lake Shrine Temple in Pacific Palisades

The first time I ever went to Lake Shrine was on a field trip in the 5th grade. It was the kind of field trip that is completely devoid of an educational merit but it was a decent day walking around the gardens and it was a relief to get out of Mrs. Grumpypants classroom. As I went to parochial school I don’t think we were told that Lake Shrine was built to honour Paramahansa Yogananda the author of Autobiography of a Yogi. I think Mrs. Grumpypants focused on the botany of the place and ignored the theology.

It was years before I went back to Lake Shrine and it was in my seeker phase when I was trying to find insight, enlightenment, and a great job all in an afternoon. I thought maybe a two hour trip to Lake Shrine might change my karma and turn my life around. I didn’t find what I was looking for but I did find beautiful gardens—and the fish, swans, turtles, windmill, are nice too.

I like all of the beauty of Lake Shrine but I am not a big fan of the woo-woo and there is plenty of woo-woo to be had if you look in the right place. I had a friend who was a member of the temple at Lake Shrine and she had a priest who lives there tell her that leprechauns and fairies frequent the place. He literally believed they were there in the garden. I have been to Lake Shrine and I have yet to see any mythical creatures coveting among the gardens. You aren’t likely to see any either but you might run into celebreties. I have heard that it is a favorite place for many celebrity moms to take their kids to feed the swans.

It’s free, beautiful and better than a day at the beach( less noise, less kids and less chance of getting sun burnt).

21. Lily will be in a parade
I can take Lily to the worlds largest Halloween dog parade, “The Haute-dog Howl-oween parade” located in Long Beach, CA( a suburb of L.A.). There will be pictures and videos of Lily’s first parade but until then here is a video of the 2008 parade.


22.Casas Fantisticos y Romanticos

Spanish style architecture that can be found in the L.A. area( only not in Valencia. Valencia doesn’t have architecture. We have master-planned communities). California Romantica is a gorgeous book by Diane Keaton that beautifully illustrates her love for California architecture; Casa California by Elizabeth McMillion gives a tour of Spanish architecture up and down the coast. I would love to have almost any of the houses in these two beautiful books, I just would prefer if the house happened to be in Santa Barbara instead of Los Angeles.

23. Diane Keaton lives in L.A. and maintains a style, sophistication and joie de vivre that would seem to be more at home in NY, Paris or London. But, I suppose if I could afford a Spanish mansion in Beverly Hills I might be somewhat happier about being here. On a side note, many moons ago, I had a short-term boyfriend who told me that the way I talked reminded him of Diane Keaton. I think I dated him longer than I should have just so I could pretend for a moment more that I was Diane and he was Warren Beatty. Truth be told he was more like Woody Allen. “La-de-dah, la-de-dah!”

24. Andersen’s Split Pea Soup
I only like the vegetarian kind and not for health reasons but because I don’t like the kind with bacon and I don’t like the split pea soup that they serve at the Anderson restaurants as it just tastes different, maybe the can adds to the flavor). It is my favorite canned soup of all time and a definite comfort food. I always have at least six cans on hand just in case of an earthquake, an apocalypse, or worse, in case Andersen quit making my favorite soup. Since moving back to L.A. I have learned that I could have bought the soup mail order ( or you can get a case from Amazon.com for $32.99) and I didn’t need to have friends and family send me cases of the stuff.

25. King’s Hawaiian Bread
My favorite accompaniment to the S
wedish soup is King’s Hawaiian bread, the two pair perfectly together. King’s Hawaiian Bread is a actually a Portuguese sweetbread which is made here. I rarely indulge in the bread as it is almost as sweet as a donut and is a white bread with no redeeming health benefits, but it is delicious and even more delicious with the soup.

Note about this series: The farther I get along in numbers the harder I am working at this. I just want you to know that it is back breaking and soul straining work—- that often requires naps and chocolate just to recover from—for me to come up with things that don’t suck about L.A. I may make it look like it’s easy but that is because you don’t see me doing( it is kind of like sausage making in that way). So just because I am amassing a significant list of things that don’t suck about L.A. doesn’t mean that “I love L.A.” is in on my I-Pod. 25 down and 340 things to go.

Charmed I’m sure

There is a magical, seductive and almost mystical power to a charmer. A real charmer can charm the pants off of someone who had fully intended to keep their pants on. Charm is what Cary Grant had. It is a quality of sparkling attractiveness and attentiveness that bubbles like champagne. Prince Charming has oodles of charm, or so people who have made his acquaintance say. A charming individual makes everyone he or she meets feel special, interesting, and appreciated. Wearing a charm protects the wearer and adds to the wearers good fortune, and perhaps even makes them more charming—and you can never have too much charm.

This post will not tell you how to be charming, but if you want to up your charm click here, or stay right here as I am going to share with you some of my favorite charmers.

Charming Book

Charmed Bracelets by Tracey Zabar is a charming book for those charmed by charm bracelets. Tracey is an expert on the subject. She is an avid collector and a fantastic charm bracelet designer. She has designed charm bracelets for Kate Spade and for Barney’s New York. This is a fantastic book and is a must have for any charm bracelet junkie. I definitely cannot get enough charm in my life. I have five J Crew charm bracelets, my mothers and a few new ones( that you will read about below). Tracey gave me some wonderful ideas for starting theme bracelets and her book has me cruising the web for a few charmers to pine for.

This bracelet(pictured) is loaded with charm. I would love Santa Weasel to get it for me for Christmas( are you listening He-weasel?).

It is the Francisca Botelho Charm Bracelet at Barneys New York, and it was $5750. Yes, it is wildly expensive and was so charming that it sold out and is no longer available. But, you never know unless you ask.

But this is the one I really, really, really want and it it is much cheaper than the Botelho one—and it may seem less charming. However, simplicity can be incredibly charming.

Charming Music

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_sMM6OSab0]
Charming Friends

Imogen of Inside Out Style gave me this beautiful butterfly charm on the day we met. Thanks to lovely Imogen I have a reminder of our friendship and our meeting. I was deeply touched by this lovely and charming gift of friendship.

My lovely and generous friend, KT of KT Sassy’s Blog read my post about wanting to make a charm bracelet for the daughter I would have had, if I had one, and what did she do? She sent me this charm bracelet with my dog-aughter on it and an aquamarine gemstone which is my birth stone. When I received it I cried as it felt like the fulfillment of a wish. I took it to Igor for him to see(he knows how highly symbolic charm bracelets are for me).

My dear friend, Kirie, the author of Three Little Chickies, knows of my big love of charm bracelets and she made me this gorgeous one. This highly customized bracelet reads like a symbolic biography. Here is a map and the meaning of the bracelet that Kirie wrote for me:
The owl: Athena
The eye chart: Because you see things so well
The book: Your future
The tickets: Your pass to the kingdom
Fleur de lys: Vive la France
Paw: Lily, sweet Lily
Purse and shoes: Who could resist?
The blank: You can write your own way, the open page
The key: To open your dreams
The pi, with aquamarine: Because it’s for you.
The Tour Eiffel: Encore, Paris
The hearts: One open, one solid; because you are loved and love.

Beyond a gift of a bracelet, this bracelet is a huge of gift of friendship. When I look at this bracelet and each charm I am reminded how lucky I am to have a friend like Kirie who knows me so well.
This is not just a bracelet this is my life, my hopes, my loves and my wishes. Words cannot say how much I treasure this very thoughtful gift. I will tell you that since I have received this bracelet my life has felt much more charmed and that is a huge gift.

BIG Igor news

For those of you new to my blog you may not know but I often write about my “Thursdays with Igor“. Igor is my Beverly Hills psychoanalyst who, as the title suggests, I see every Thursday. I have written about Igor ever since I started seeing him in November and it wasn’t until late spring that I even mentioned my blog to him. What took me so long? Well, the truth is that I thought he might not approve of blogging and have some judgment about it. I thought he might give some non-verbal tic that might make me feel like I should shut down the blog and only do “serious writing”( whatever that is). Yes, I have a father complex and a raging Super-Ego that has lots of rules about legitimacy and only doing x if Daddy approves of it. Even with my fears and doubts it felt like it was important that Igor know about my blog because it is such a big part of my life. Yet I couldn’t take the risk.

After much rumination and even blogging about it I finally told Igor that I had a blog. I think I said it fast and quickly, the verbal equivalent of ripping off a Band-aid. Once the words were out I waited for him to say something. However, I got very little reaction from him. He seemed somewhat indifferent to the news and I got the same reaction from him as if I had told him I had eaten mashed potatoes the night before. I thought maybe he didn’t get what blogging was as Igor is not up on trends and he knows practically nothing about popular cultural. He had never even heard of Sesame Street or Sex in the City before meeting me. I once spent a segment of a session explaining to him the characters on Sesame Street and answering his question, “No, Sesame Street is not at all like The Simpsons“. How does one manage not to know who Big Bird or Sarah Jessica Parker are and that Homer and Elmo have nothing in common? What kind of cave must my Igor live in? Clearly a cave without cable.

Once I came out of the blog closet I would occasionally tell him about the blog in session when the time seemed right. I would tell him little bits and pieces about the blog as it made sense to do so. I told him all about the series,”Home is where the guest blogger post is” which he was very interested in, so much so that he suggested that it would make a fantastic book. I’ve told him about blogging friends I’ve made and about all the support and community I experience on the blog and unbeknownst to him I have brought you all in with me for a session or two. I tell him all kinds of things about the blog except that I blog about him. That was the one thing I was still afraid to say.

Igor has never seen my blog. He has never asked for the url. And, to this day, he doesn’t know the name of my blog and that is just fine by me. He could, if he was really interested in finding my blog he could faster than you can say Freud. With just a a few good search terms that I use frequently in our session, words like “writer+memoir+psychology+Lily+Valencia+Chicago
+blog”. Just with seven little words he would end up right here.
If he was feeling more terse he could choose a shorter search term and still find me, “blog+Lily+Valencia+Chicago” brings you right here. That said, I think Igor is far too good with boundaries to go hunting for me or my blog and I like that about him.

As I am currently working on version two of the “Thursdays with Igor” book proposal and it will soon be ready to send out. It seemed like a good time to tell him he was the co-star of my memoir. “Uh, I thought you might want to know that the title of my book is “Thursdays with Igor” and you are Igor.”
“You can’t push away the smile ” Igor laughed.
I couldn’t. The smile demanded to have its full expression.
I told him more about the book and the blog and his co-starring role and then I sat back and waited for him to be angry, enraged, outraged and have other feelings ending with the suffix “-raged”. I was even ready for him to fire me as a client. I was ready for all kinds of things except the reaction he gave me.
“So what do you think about me writing a book in which you are the costar and in the title?”
Igor answered,”Whatever is best for you is fine with me.”
I almost cried.

For months I have carried guilt, worry, and fear about how he would react. Today the guilt, worry and fear are replaced with relief. Relief feels good.

Picture taken by me in Igor’s waiting room.

11-18 of 365

(365 Things that don’t suck about L.A.)

11. Cesar Millan is my neighbor
I am not a big fan of Cesar’s. I would much prefer it if Victoria Stillwell lived in Valencia. If she did we could walk our dogs together and share sources on red lipstick and brush each others hair and she would teach Lily amazing tricks and we would go out for tea. I have no such fantasies with Cesar. But it kind of cracks me up to think I might run into Cesar at the local Petco making those crazy noises at his dogs. If I did I would point him out to Lily and tell her that I promise never to make those silly noises at her. She would thank me by wagging her tail wildly and kissing off my red lipstick.

12. No ice and that’s nice
I have recently had some fantasies of moving back to Chicago, as I am wont to do, and lately the winter weather has put a kibosh on some of my favorite fantasies. I hate ice. I hate the bogeyman of black ice that I anticipated as I drove on highway 41. I hated tip toeing on ice in terror of falling. I hated falling on ice and the resulting pain in my tailbone that made it impossible for me to move for a week without enormous agony, loud and dramatic wails, and Vicodin. There is no ice in L.A. other than the ice that comes from my ice machine and I will admit that that doesn’t entirely suck.

13. In-and-Out urge
If you come to L.A. you MUST go to In-and-Out Burger at least once, unless you are a vegetarian. It is a California culinary institution and for sure the best hamburger one can get at a fast food restaurant in all the world (yes, I realize that is big talk). All they serve at In-and-Out are hamburgers, fries, shakes and sodas. that it is it. No chicken; no salad; no tofu patties— nothing but burgers. But, there is a secret menu for those in the know.

When we lived in Chicago I often had the In-and-out urge and had to sublimate my double-double desire with a Chicago dog. Whenever we would visit L.A. our first stop after landing at LAX would be the In-and-Out right by the airport. My order at In-and-Out is the Double-double with grilled onions and no fries. I hate their fries. They are bland and tasteless and not worth the calories. But, now that I know about their secret menu I might try the fries “animal style”.

14. I am free to look ridiculous
In L.A. I can wear the big sunglasses that make me look like a big bug without feeling completely over the top. In Chicago I always felt the need to apologize for anything that was close to the top, let alone over it.

15. Brushes with boughs of greatness
When I was little my parents took me to a Christmas party and the next door neighbors of the hosts happened to be Bob Newhart and family. I was invited over to help decorate Bob’s Christmas tree. I suppose the hosts were mortified that my parents hadn’t found a sitter and were delighted that the Newhart family took me in. Bob wasn’t there, but it was Bob’s tree and tinsel that I touched.

16. No GPS required
In I am never literally lost, metaphorically I am, but not literally. I know this town. When I lived in Chicago I was always afraid if I made one wrong turn I would end up in Indiana or Wisconsin. You drop me anywhere in L.A.( except Culver City, I always get lost in Culver City) and I can find my way home.

17. Easy freeway access to childhood trauma
I am never more than 30 minutes away from a location of a childhood trauma. If I need material for the book I can drive to a PTSD location from my past and be filled with inspiration for the book and/or material to take to Igor. No need to go to Google Earth to find the vortexes of my childhood wounding. Yes, I suppose, this kind of sucks.

18. Conducting chickens or free range Strauss
Esa-Pekka Salonen and Koo-Koo-Roo. I love a good alliteration and I love how the name of the charbroiled chicken chain and the conductor of the L.A. symphony’s names roll off of my tongue. I know that they have nothing in common but Pekka’s name makes me think of poultry and, who knows, maybe when Esa-Pekka isn’t conducting Tchaikovsky he enjoys a little Koo-Koo-Roo chicken. I certainly do and there is a Koo-Koo-Roo just a block away from the Disney Concert Hall so Esa-Pecka can have a two piece plate before he performs.

Ask Igor

It is that time of year, the end of summer, when psychoanalysts everywhere flee their caseloads for their annual summer getaway. A reprieve from repression; a break from breakdowns and an escape from all things Oedipal. Igor is no exception. Igor is not in Beverly Hills. He is spending his Thursdays without me.

I imagine he is somewhere exotic and glamorous. I am guessing Monaco or the Amalfi Coast. He is splitting his day between lounging by the sea, deep sea diving, touring museums, dining at elegant bistros and putting my months worth of fees on red at the roulette table. I could be wrong. It might merely be an idealization in which I am giving Igor the glamorous life I wish for myself. For all I know Igor could be doing a staycation and is working his way through a honey-do list and taking short excursions to Home Depot. I think not, but you never know.

Having had no Igor for the last two weeks has not been easy. I have had a lot on my plate and a lot in my psyche and I could have really used his help. It is pretty classic that when one’s analyst goes away that the patient falls to pieces. I anticipated this and told Igor before he left, “I feel a moral obligation to not be the kind of patient that falls apart while you are gone. I don’t want you to have to worry about me. I want you to have a good time and I want to never come to your mind.” He seemed to appreciate my concern and commitment to stay consolidated when he was off in another continent. Hmmm… maybe he is in Cuba or perhaps he is on a cruise to the Galapagos Island.

When he is here, week after week, my dreams never seem as urgent and in need of interpretation as now that he is off somewhere sipping Sangrias in Seville. I would never, no matter the crisis, pull a “What about Bob?” maneuver and call him while he was on vacation. Seriously, even if I turned into Cybil or aliens told me to wear a aluminum foil hats, I would never call him while he is on vacation. If it was an emergency I know he wouldn’t mind if I interrupted his tango lessons or his touring of ancient tombs, if I had a real trauma, but still.

I decided to keep a notebook as a way to contain my anxiety while he is off on safari in Tanzania and I am calling it my “What I would tell Igor if he was here notebook”. At the top of the list is the dream I had at about being at Club Med with the cast of Big Brother and being really sad about leaving Club Med and feeling real grief about saying goodbye to my cast mates. I found the dream incredibly disturbing as it is so at odds with my sense of self. I hated working at Club Med and I would never go on Big Brother. As an introvert I treasure alone time and privacy and both Club Med and BB never allow for either. There aren’t even locks at the door at Club Med and in the Big Brother house they even video tape you when you are in the shower. I get chills just thinking about it. Any armchair Igors want to take a stab at this highly extroverted dream?

I have written a lot in the “What I would tell Igor if he was here” notebook about the roller coaster ride( with more ups than downs) of finishing my “Thursdays with Igor” book proposal without my Thursdays with Igor. It seems odd to not be seeing him when I am constantly working, thinking, writing an re-writing a book proposal in which he co-stars. The other things that have made it into the notebook are: things my mother said; the book he recommended; and my continual reluctance to change my cell phone number.

Since I am compiling a list of things to talk to Igor about once he returns from his cabin in Cape Code, I thought it might be a good time to ask you what you would ask Igor if you could. Go on, don’t be shy. He is not grumpy or prone to incomprehensible colloquialisms like Dr. Phil and he is not going to put you into celebrity rehab like Dr. Drew. If you could ask Igor or an Igor anything about anything what would it be? You don’t have to lie down on the couch to ask your question, unless that makes you more comfortable. He won’t really answer your questions as he is off hang gliding in Hawaii, this is just my curiosity.
*****************************************
The photo above is not of Igor or of his office. He, as I have told you before, looks like Omar Sharif and his office is much more restrained and is older and is much more womb like. The photo is a self-portrait of Dr. Mark Gerald, a 64-year-old psychoanalyst who practices in NYC, and it is from his exhibition,“In the Shadow of Freud’s Couch: Photographic Portraits of Psychoanalysts in Their Offices”. Dr. Gerald “has taken advantage of his insider status to tackle a subject previously closed to portrait photography: psychoanalysts in their workplaces. To date, he has photographed 55 analysts, more than half of them representing a legendary breed: the New York psychoanalyst. “

You can see several of the photos of the psychoanalysts offices here. Some of the offices are so interesting that they would put me off of doing psychoanalysis with the practitioners. I won’t name names but I will name locations: Chelsea and Paris are not places I will be going for therapy. Which of these therapist’s office can you imagine yourself in? Do interiors matter in one’s pursuit of mental health or is a couch just a couch? I can tell you that I once quit seeing a therapist because she had a framed picture of Holly Hobbie in her office. I just couldn’t give access to the deep workings of my psyche to a woman who thought that Holly Hobbie was appropriate art work to hang in a professional office.

About Me

My name is Tracey, aka La Belette Rouge. I am a psychotherapist and the author of Freudian Sip @ Psychology Today. I blog about psychology, my therapy, dreams, writing, meaning making, home, longing, loss, infertility and other things that delight or inspire me. I try to make deep and elusive psychodynamic concepts accessible and funny. For more information, click here .

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