Nice to meet you, Carrie Fisher!

Judy and I attended the 2 pm matinee of Wishful Drinking, the one-woman show created by Carrie Fisher, who is defined by modern audiences as Princess Leia of Star Wars, one of the worst movies I've ever seen. But, hey, that's me!

There were many exciting steps that led up to getting to Manhattan to see the play. Planning of course is crucial. I have a beautiful straw fruit basket in my living room window in which I keep my warm winter beret and also activities that need lotsa planning. In there, I put directions on how to get to Judy's Bucks County house. I was googling her to find our her address and directions and the price of her house came up. It was shocking!

So, I rolled outa bed at 7:30, took my shitload of morning pills - all for my kidney disease - and then packed pills for next week and took em with me in case the snow mandated my staying over at Judy's or Carrie's.

I had my delicious healthy breakfast - protein starch carb - - 2 fried eggs in olive oil, pumpernickel toast and cranberries sweetened with maple syrup. Also packed 2 snacks - apple, walnuts, unsalted pretzels.

I am religious about my diet, thanks to Mary Ann Moylan of the Giant Supermarket. Ya know what she said to me? Just remember, Ruth, everytime you eat too much salt you'll get edema! Geez, Scott won't be attracted to me anymore w/o my tiny ankles.

Found her house with no prob. It's now 9 a.m. Showtime is 2 pm. First I gotta listen to her young son play piano. Ho-hum. Ya know what I did? I started dancing on the carpet. Nice rhythm, easy to dance to.

Then I talked to her husband. He got up early and did rounds at a couple hospitals. I asked him about the Swine Flu. Yes, he said, their office was inundated around Thanksgiving.

So, it's real, I thot to myself. Screw Dr. Mercola, the health fiend, who's trying to convince his subscribers it doesn't exist. What a relief when I unsubscribed from his rants after a week.

We drove to Trenton in her red van. They refurbished the station and it's very nice. Didn't see any homeless people or drug addicts. We parked in a garage and followed David - of Marilyn and David - into the station. Judy wanted to stick by them so we chatted until the train came.

Beautiful NJ Transit train. I haven't been on it in ages since I usually take the bus to NY. The train went frustratingly slow. I don't understand why. Judy loves to talk so I caught up on her very interesting life until I felt a wave of exhaustion rush thru me.

I'll just close my eyes, I said, but you keep talking. I was asleep instantly.

Judy was hugely influenced by Carrie Fisher's book Wishful Drinking which is extensively quoted in the play. She was determined to get Fisher's autograph.

Manhattan was mobbed. We had to be careful not to lose each other. When we got upstairs to the street it was raining. I'm just not an umbrella person so I covered my head with my beret. Judy had her umbrella and we surged thru the crowd looking for a cab.

Harriet had just slid into the backseat of a cab. Judy, who has more chutzpah than I do, asked if we could share it with her. Harriet was leading a tour group from MD. All were to meet independently at Radio City to watch the Rockettes. Harriet is the new grandmom of Macy, 2 and a half. She only asked for $4 for cabfare when the cabbie left us off. Judy gave her 5.

Puddles were accumulating in the streets. Miserable weather. But hey we were going to see a play. Judy was freaking out about where to eat lunch. Judy, I said, this is the theatre district, there are loads of places to eat. We went into an Italian restaurant and sat down next to a friend of Judy's. She's the kind of woman who knows many people.

I ordered Spaghetti with Pesto Sauce. Phee-nominally delicious! What exactly is pesto sauce, Sarah? It was green. I ate every drop. Ah, the green is crushed basil. I actually have fresh basil in my fridge right now. Guess what I'll make for dinner?

I have an acute sense of knowing whether or not we'll be late. I assured Judy we would be on time for the performance.

We had good seats except for the giraffe in front of me. I just kept moving my head so I could see the stage.

The audience loved it. So did I. Hilarious laughter. Carrie spoke very softly but you could hear her. She was taking us into her confidence. Her voice was surprisingly nasal. Is that the right word, Dorothy Sarnoff? Look how ridiculous things come to me when I write.

She wore a lovely black silk pyjama suit covered with a long flowing caftan and walked barefoot across the stage. She sipped on soda or pretend wine during the show while a wonderful backdrop had funny news clippings such as from the NY Times, Carrie Fisher's husband leaves her for a man. They had a daughter together, Billie Catherine.

Lots of audience involvement. The lights would flicker on as she'd ask the audience questions. One question was Who here has been in a mental hospital? Judy tapped me and said, Raise your hand Ruth?

No way.

When the show was over we went out to the stage door where Carrie would emerge, said the sound man, after she'd greeted her guests.

About 8 of us stood behind a yellow metal gate waiting for the star to emerge. She let people take photos of her with their phones. My phone has that feature but I'm just mastering how to make phone calls.

Judy thrust her copy of Wishful Drinking in front of Carrie who autographed it with a black magic marker. As Judy proudly told me, I know how to get people's autograph. She has a photograph of Bruce Springsteen and herself in her wallet.

I think the only photograph I'd like is if God or Jesus would come into my home and then I'd politely ask if I could take their photo with my Kodak.

Altho I'm not into autographs - other than God's or possibly Yours on the bottom of a check - I did put my Playbill in front of her.

Loved your show, Carrie. I have bipolar disorder, I said.

I'd asked my support group what I should say to Carrie if I met her. Ask her for a donation, they said.

Carrie asked me why I didn't raise my hand during the performance.

What could I say? I mumbled something like I didn't fucking feel like it. Without the F word of course.

She's a short woman, I was surprised. Ordinary looking. A little on the plump side which she mentioned in the show.

Her handlers held umbrellas over her head. Then they escorted her into a black car with a distinctive logo on the back.

What kind of car is that, I asked Judy.

A Mercedes, she said.

Ah! Like our Peggela.

We couldn't get a cab back to Penn Station so we walked 30-some blocks to the station down Seventh Avenue. It was glorious, the lights of the city in the pitch-black dark night. Ads sparkled on both sides of us. Look at this, I said to Judy, showing her an M and M ad. She pointed out the FAO Schwartz toystore with the huge ferris wheel inside.

Pedestrian traffic was about 15 deep at the streetcorners but we forged thru. Judy is a great walker. Snowflakes were descending quickly, thick white flakes that melted into huge puddles. It was glorious.

When I got home, Scott had come over and turned up the heat. I could not wait to be warm. My teeth were chattering.