Less puking, more mood swings.

I don't know which I prefer. Okay, I know. I prefer your mother nice and puking to cranky and not puking. Not that I get a vote.

Not that she gets a vote, either, but if she did I'm sure she'd choose cranky and not puking.

Welcome to the second trimester.

This morning, she said she felt you move--or maybe she felt you move. Felt like life, she said. As opposed to gas. Then she got all cranky.

No, not quite. She's actually mostly amazing and that's why I'm so glad I married her. But her moods are swinging a bit more than usual, and by the way, when they talk about mood swings, they don't mean in both directions. Her moods only swing one way--toward cranky.

We had dinner tonight with Marc and Nadine and their friends Frank and Michelle. Marc and Frank know each other from way back. Both of them work in the film biz, which makes them total insiders. Marc's an agent at William Morris and Frank does photography on movies. Nadine, of course, is a series regular on a TV show.

Not that we're looking for closure, but we recognize it when it appears. Here we are leaving for Portland in a week and we're having dinner with three of the most connected people we know and you know what? It was really nice. Pleasant. We didn't really talk about work and nobody asked anybody to do something to help move a career forward. Which is my way of saying that as much as I have a bad taste in my mouth about Hollywood, there are decent people in the business and Marc and Nadine are two of them. I feel really glad that they thought to invite us to join them tonight.

They did remark that Portland seemed very far away, which maybe it is. But after having to fly all the way to Switzerland for a meeting--not to mention all the other places I've worked around the world--Portland doesn't seem to be that far away. It's only a 2 1/2 hour flight. Is that far? I don't know.

I know that when I left New York the last time, I was convinced that I'd need three or four trips back every year in order to satisfy the need I had to experience the place. And for the first year or two, it was true. Now, though, I don't really miss it at all. The last time I was there was three years ago. And I don't feel any need to go there anytime soon.

Don't get me wrong, I'd enjoy it if I went. I just don't miss it.

Speaking of missing, I can't help but wonder what I might miss about L.A. Here's my list, with the caveat that you can't really know what you'll miss in advance because most likely, it's something you take for granted:

1) Versailles. They make a half-chicken that's roasted and then covered in a garlic/lemon sauce. Wow.

2) The smell of jasmine during the spring. Especially at night.

3) Some people. Most of the people I feel the deepest connection to have already left L.A. Tamara's in Seattle; Molly's in England; Shari's in Austin; Kitty's in Astoria, but moving to Portland; Kirk is in Portland. Monette is in L.A., but these days she's working in New York. And of course Sterling and Angie are in L.A. So are Danny and Kevin Ward.

The problem with the people is that I've become so reclusive over the past couple of years that I don't really get out to see any of them, no matter how important they are to me.

And I think that's why I'm so anxious to go. I have kept my head so far down that I associate L.A. with struggle, an anti-social struggle to keep things going. I'm not stupid enough to believe that moving to Portland is going to change the disappointing reality of the business I've gone into. But what I'm hoping it will do is allow me to widen my perspective. Scary as it is, I'm excited to find out what happens next. And as long as it's going to happen somewhere, it may as well be Portland. At least I feel good about living there.

Besides, friends are friends. And maybe now that we'll have room to put people up, they'll be more willing to visit.

If not, we'll have to make new friends. Otherwise, it'll just be me with your cranky, not-puking-so-much mother.