As I grow older, as everyone grows older, cells stop reproducing as rapidly. The body slows down. With some exceptions. Such as select body hair. You've all seen the old guys with hair growing from their ears, looking like smoke, giving them a cartoon-angry appearance. For me, it's the eyebrows. Now, I'm not a hairy person anyway. Being blonde, my hair tends to be fine and not noticeable. I have never shaved my legs above the knee because I have never needed to. So when I see long, wavy hairs SUDDENLY appear on my eyebrows, I get a little disturbed. They grow overnight and I wake up to their flap in the morning breeze. Who was the comedienne who referenced the hair growing from a mole on her grandmother's face? It was long, like a buggy whip.
Hello, tweezers!!!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
365days-day180-falling
My face is falling. Yes, it's part of the aging process. Yes, it's made worse by running. Yes, it's genetics. Yes, I don't drink enough water. And yes, I must have some vanity because I think about it. Would I if I didn't live in a youth obsessed, beauty obsessed city? I dunno. Perhaps I should say my face is melting and chalk it up to Global Warming.....
Monday, October 29, 2007
I should write more.
Things are fine since that last dramatic outburst. But have I chosen to write about good things? Humdrum? Everyday life? My cat? Nooooooooo! I grew up in a family and a culture that really believed if you ignored it, it would go away. Wherein X is "it." And yet, the blog is still here, still empty. I had this page up for 2 days with nothing in it. So, this is my measly attempt to start back at...um...writing. Something.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
365days-day147-hiding
He says I'm insane. He says I am profoundly neurotic. He says I distort reality.
He says that his constant criticisms are really a way of saying I love you.
He says that I am broken.
He says that I am wrong.
He says that I am wrong for thinking that I am wrong, even when I am wrong.
He says that I don't know how to be loved.
He says that I can't tell the difference between when someone loves me and when they don't.
He says I should get my things and fuck off.
He says that his constant criticisms are really a way of saying I love you.
He says that I am broken.
He says that I am wrong.
He says that I am wrong for thinking that I am wrong, even when I am wrong.
He says that I don't know how to be loved.
He says that I can't tell the difference between when someone loves me and when they don't.
He says I should get my things and fuck off.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Flickr loves you, but Yahoo loves EVERYONE!
I saw this on the way home. At the Yahoo offices in Burbank. I know it's on purpose because the other side says YA O ! Not as funny as Ho. I realize now that the reason this is blurry is because I was using my car door as a tripod, which has a speaker in it, which was blasting Amy Winehouse - Black to Black. I almost said Black in Black, but that would be AC/DC, wouldn't it? Somehow the Amy was more appropos. I'm still laughing.
Monday, August 27, 2007
A horse by my house
Back in the day, photographers traveled around neighborhoods and took pictures of kids sitting on old ponies. You paid them and they sent you photos later. This could never be done in this day and age for so many reasons. I mean can you imagine if a guy and an old pony showed up on your doorstep?? I remember this so well, except that I was three, so my reality was skewed. I remember the guy being really old and the pony not moving at all, which was disappointing. I wanted it to take off, after all I had boots and a hat!!! The old photographer gave me his hat to wear, which he had to prop on the back of my head so it wouldn't fall over my face. I wanted to hold the horse by the mane, but he told me to hold the sadle. Made sense, because that's the part I held onto at the grocery store 10 cent horse. i can't for the life of me now figure out why that was ever fun.
Anyhow, I am pretty sure I kept saying, "giddy up, horsey!" And I'm pretty sure my Mom was telling me to sit still. And I'm pretty sure I thought I was really going to get to ride the horse. But when the photo was over, the horse and the man left, with his hat. I still thought it was fun.
All my cousins had horses as did my first set of in-laws. And yet I never rode a horse until I was 22. And that was also the last time I rode a horse.
Uploaded by
Anyhow, I am pretty sure I kept saying, "giddy up, horsey!" And I'm pretty sure my Mom was telling me to sit still. And I'm pretty sure I thought I was really going to get to ride the horse. But when the photo was over, the horse and the man left, with his hat. I still thought it was fun.
All my cousins had horses as did my first set of in-laws. And yet I never rode a horse until I was 22. And that was also the last time I rode a horse.
Uploaded by
Sunday, August 19, 2007
365days-day121-Teri Nunn
We went to see Berlin tonight. I dyed my hair for the occasion.
It was at the Starlight Bowl in Burbank. First off, I thought for 10 years that the Starlight Bowl was a bowling alley. It's an amphitheatre. It's about 1/4 mile from James' house. He'd never been either, but at least he knew you can't bowl there.
I knew it was going to be a good evening when I saw my real estate agent giving away fans at the entrance. The opening act was Naken Eyes. The audience was still trickling in so he played bravely to a crowd of maybe 1000. There was one song in there that I haven't heard since 1983. I only remember the video. desaturated blonde girl wakes up.... "at night she calls your name...'. Then Promises, Promises...my favorite. And Always Something There to Remind Me was the finale. It was fun and somewhat tragic that the "mosh pit" was filled with people with toddlers on their heads.
Then came Berlin. I dragged James down to the now crowded "mosh pit." It was wonderful. Teri sang beautifully, fully defending her title of number 11 on MTV's top female rock vocalists. She did the complete Berlin Greatest Hits, including our favorite "You Don't Know," which is a deep cut. Even she said so, but it is her favorite song. She sang 2 songs for her mom who passed away 4 months ago including an emotional acoustic "Ordinary World" from Duran Duran. We were all in tears. Her husband carried her on his shoulders all around the amphitheatre for 2 songs, allowing me to high five her. Her fake last song was Sex, always a crowd pleaser. And of course they came back to do Take My Breath Away as the finale. She dedicated it with a wonderful story of trying to have child. being around the same age, I feel for her. She said they tried for a long time and she finally knows why it never happened. And then she introduced her adopted daughter, Natalie. i was so touched and felt a certain peace in my nagging bio clock. She made her rounds of the theatre again on her husband's shoulders, and this time, James lifted me up on his. When she came back to the stage, we had a great "moment" of - hey! You're my size, with my hair, same build, on some guy's shoulders! It's like a mirror!!! We looked at eacjother and laughed. And for a second, I felt like I was Teri Nunn's best friend.
Being Burbank, the concert series must end early. So we were home by 9.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
365days-day120-hangover
I had a karaoke party at my house last night, mostly to exorcise the sadness of Duncan's passing. It was small and very fun. I also allowed myself to drink what I wanted. I have cut WAY back, mostly because of the lexapro. But I feel so much better. Except this morning. I don't feel better. I remember why I don't do this anymore. I haven't been hungover since Christmas.
Didn't help that we sang until 3am and police heliopters started circling at 7am. They were actually circling my house. 3 kids robbed the 7-11. After 3 hours of circling, they caught all 3 plus recovered the gun and the money. No one was hurt. And no one slept in. The copters are loud. And that constant cycle of getting louder, getting softer. Getting louder...getting softer...is so annoying. No one can sleep through that. I picked the wrong day to start drinking.
Uploaded by daradactyl
Didn't help that we sang until 3am and police heliopters started circling at 7am. They were actually circling my house. 3 kids robbed the 7-11. After 3 hours of circling, they caught all 3 plus recovered the gun and the money. No one was hurt. And no one slept in. The copters are loud. And that constant cycle of getting louder, getting softer. Getting louder...getting softer...is so annoying. No one can sleep through that. I picked the wrong day to start drinking.
Uploaded by daradactyl
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Tachometer
Tachometers have a very special place in my life.
The first time I ever heard that word, or was in a manual transmission car, was in high school. I was in a band with David Tune. His father ran the airport and a Saab dealership. David had a Saab something or other sports car. It was his life. And he explained to me how to shift gears and how one never wants to let the tachometer get higher than 4 (x1000rpm) in normal driving. When it does, you should shift. He was kind and generous and a great drummer. We were the Electric Brains, formerly Gray Matter. We were the smart kids who had a garage band in high school. Years later, he gave me a job at his radio station and when I moved to LA, he shipped my stuff from that same Saab dealership at no cost to me.
Just after high school, I met an actor who I later married named Edward. He had wanted to drive race cars at one point and even crewed for Formula 1. He taught me how to drive manual shift. In Chicago. In a foot of snow. He yelled a lot. But I learned.
My first car in LA was a stick. A 1982 VW Cabriolet. I was clumsy at first, but loved driving Mullholland, oft the scene of car commercials for its winding, tree-lined road. My next husband has a 1970 VW bug. I don't recall if it had a tachometer. I couldn't drive that car. The pedals were strange and freaky. His next car was a Mini Cooper. That, I could drive. When he let me. Being a turbo, one has to give it a little more gas than usual.
This tachometer is Marlon's. He borrowed James' car to move stuff. James can't drive manual. So he borrowed my car. And then I had Marlon's. It was good to be back with the friendly tachometer. Not a turbo, so I didn't have to try too hard. And I never let it go over 4. David Tune would be proud.
The first time I ever heard that word, or was in a manual transmission car, was in high school. I was in a band with David Tune. His father ran the airport and a Saab dealership. David had a Saab something or other sports car. It was his life. And he explained to me how to shift gears and how one never wants to let the tachometer get higher than 4 (x1000rpm) in normal driving. When it does, you should shift. He was kind and generous and a great drummer. We were the Electric Brains, formerly Gray Matter. We were the smart kids who had a garage band in high school. Years later, he gave me a job at his radio station and when I moved to LA, he shipped my stuff from that same Saab dealership at no cost to me.
Just after high school, I met an actor who I later married named Edward. He had wanted to drive race cars at one point and even crewed for Formula 1. He taught me how to drive manual shift. In Chicago. In a foot of snow. He yelled a lot. But I learned.
My first car in LA was a stick. A 1982 VW Cabriolet. I was clumsy at first, but loved driving Mullholland, oft the scene of car commercials for its winding, tree-lined road. My next husband has a 1970 VW bug. I don't recall if it had a tachometer. I couldn't drive that car. The pedals were strange and freaky. His next car was a Mini Cooper. That, I could drive. When he let me. Being a turbo, one has to give it a little more gas than usual.
This tachometer is Marlon's. He borrowed James' car to move stuff. James can't drive manual. So he borrowed my car. And then I had Marlon's. It was good to be back with the friendly tachometer. Not a turbo, so I didn't have to try too hard. And I never let it go over 4. David Tune would be proud.
Scrub Jay
This guy was trying to eat a grasshopper. I support that since the grasshoppers have eaten half my garden. But he was just picking at it while it was alive. That was kinda gross not to mention the possibility that it was a Jay that ate a baby dove out of the nest on my porch 3 years ago. So, as pretty as they are, I think they are vicious. I watched this dance go on for a while, with the bird grabbing the insect and it jumping away. Finally, the bird took it up to a branch and started pulling it's nasty insect flesh off. The grasshopper fell straight down into this rubbish bin. The bird was very unsure about diving in to get it, so he sat on the edge and barked loudly. Finally, I went to see if the insect was alive (it was) and the bird flew off, I assume thinking it had lost it's meal to a much larger competitor.
That was Saturday. Today I checked back and the hopper is dead. So I pulled it out for a possible snack for the Jay. Unless he only eats wiggly things.
That was Saturday. Today I checked back and the hopper is dead. So I pulled it out for a possible snack for the Jay. Unless he only eats wiggly things.
365days-day116-wax poetic
Waxing is very expensive. It adds up since one needs to wax on a regular basis if one is going to wax in the first place. So I decided to start home waxing. Sort of like home schooling with less children. Very cost effective and not too messy, it seemed like the solution I was looking for. There is however a very important step in the waxing process which is to apply a light layer of oil to the skin part. That way, the oil which is very sticky won't stick to your skin, only the hair it is meant to pull off.
I forgot that part.
And so, the sticky wax is REALLY stuck. It's not going anywhere. I was late for work, so I decided to just deal with it later. And I spent the entire day stuck to my clothes.
I'm going back to shaving.
Uploaded by daradactyl on 14 Aug 07, 9.35AM PDT.
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I forgot that part.
And so, the sticky wax is REALLY stuck. It's not going anywhere. I was late for work, so I decided to just deal with it later. And I spent the entire day stuck to my clothes.
I'm going back to shaving.
Uploaded by daradactyl on 14 Aug 07, 9.35AM PDT.
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Monday, July 02, 2007
Please remember me....
In the neon glow of a comedy club,
"catch with a K."
Your band teacher led the band
at the Green Mill.
But not really.
You held my hair anyway.
Drinking port in an Inn
somewhere in England.
In Scotland.
In Ireland.
I will never forget that smell
that is Tipperary.
It haunts me still.
And the time at Halloween
when I painted Kiss.
But I wasn't one of them.
Maybe I was never one of you.
I read in my baby book that
my very first words were
"Bye-Bye."
"catch with a K."
Your band teacher led the band
at the Green Mill.
But not really.
You held my hair anyway.
Drinking port in an Inn
somewhere in England.
In Scotland.
In Ireland.
I will never forget that smell
that is Tipperary.
It haunts me still.
And the time at Halloween
when I painted Kiss.
But I wasn't one of them.
Maybe I was never one of you.
I read in my baby book that
my very first words were
"Bye-Bye."
Friday, May 11, 2007
Still Burning
This is going to be a long, hot, burning summer. Catalina Island is on fire. Residents have been evacuated. Fire season has not officially begun yet. In other words, it's only going to get worse.
I remembered last night a time when I was counting on getting a part in a play at a regional theatre. I was broke, I was bored in Chicago and wanted to get out of the cold, dry air. The director as much as told me I was a shoe in, so I paid to fly to the final audition.
The part of Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird went to a young realtor. She seemed more boyish I was told later. I tried to take that as a compliment. I convinced myself that there was something else out there for me. That there was a REASON I didn't get that part. I just knew that I would go back home and over that same time period, something better would come along for me.
It didn't.
Nothing happened. Nothing bad, nothing good. Nothing.
Sometimes things happen for a reason and sometimes they just happen.
Sometimes a car represents a car.
Sometimes death represents death. There is no phoenix, no rebirth. Just dark, scorched earth where life used to be.
I remembered last night a time when I was counting on getting a part in a play at a regional theatre. I was broke, I was bored in Chicago and wanted to get out of the cold, dry air. The director as much as told me I was a shoe in, so I paid to fly to the final audition.
The part of Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird went to a young realtor. She seemed more boyish I was told later. I tried to take that as a compliment. I convinced myself that there was something else out there for me. That there was a REASON I didn't get that part. I just knew that I would go back home and over that same time period, something better would come along for me.
It didn't.
Nothing happened. Nothing bad, nothing good. Nothing.
Sometimes things happen for a reason and sometimes they just happen.
Sometimes a car represents a car.
Sometimes death represents death. There is no phoenix, no rebirth. Just dark, scorched earth where life used to be.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
My City in Ruins
It started at 1:30 yesterday afternoon. Right by the golf course and the carousel. The fire in Griffith Park spread to within a mile of the LA Zoo and on the other side of the park to the Observatory. It's still going. Paxton walked outside and when he came back in, his fur was saturated with that acrid fire smell. I wandered out to see if there was anything to see, but not from my vantage point. Just a lot of smoke.
So I won't be running to work today. I won't be biking in the park as usual Wednesday night. Where the fire started was my favorite place to bike. It was shady and quiet and lovely. It smelled of pine and Eucolyptus, and ocasionally echoed with the laughter of children playing. I spent hours there last summer running and biking, and all the time thinking about what exactly I was supposed to be doing with my life as opposed to what I wanted to do with my life.
There was a giant plume of smoke rising up from the park yesterday which we watched from the balcony at work. But our view was mostly blocked by Trash Truck Hill, that massive hill which several of us have tried many times to run or bike up without a corinary.
600 acres have burned so far. The Zoo animals are OK, but they were not evacuated and couldn't be because of their size and that there is 1200 of them. It occurs to me that someone really should come up with a plan for that.
Almost every Wednesday night, as I was putting my bike back onto my car at dusk, I would see a single coyote trotting through the parking lot. Presumably to rumage through the Zoo garbage. Sometimes I would also see him along the trail. He looks like a skinny mutt. But cute one. Once, I saw him as I was driving. I slowed down to a very slow crawl pointing excitedly to no one that there was a coyote over there! Look! Over time I learned that it is in fact a very common site. No need to slow down at all.
I hope that coyote is safe tonight.
So I won't be running to work today. I won't be biking in the park as usual Wednesday night. Where the fire started was my favorite place to bike. It was shady and quiet and lovely. It smelled of pine and Eucolyptus, and ocasionally echoed with the laughter of children playing. I spent hours there last summer running and biking, and all the time thinking about what exactly I was supposed to be doing with my life as opposed to what I wanted to do with my life.
There was a giant plume of smoke rising up from the park yesterday which we watched from the balcony at work. But our view was mostly blocked by Trash Truck Hill, that massive hill which several of us have tried many times to run or bike up without a corinary.
600 acres have burned so far. The Zoo animals are OK, but they were not evacuated and couldn't be because of their size and that there is 1200 of them. It occurs to me that someone really should come up with a plan for that.
Almost every Wednesday night, as I was putting my bike back onto my car at dusk, I would see a single coyote trotting through the parking lot. Presumably to rumage through the Zoo garbage. Sometimes I would also see him along the trail. He looks like a skinny mutt. But cute one. Once, I saw him as I was driving. I slowed down to a very slow crawl pointing excitedly to no one that there was a coyote over there! Look! Over time I learned that it is in fact a very common site. No need to slow down at all.
I hope that coyote is safe tonight.
Monday, April 23, 2007
365days-day5-ripoff
So I ordered a G7 online. Great price! And I tested it out and liked the camera. But they emailed me that I needed to call. So I did. That's when they told me I would need to buy the battery seperately - it wasn't included. So I asked what WAS included. He said, "The normal stuff." "Like a battery?" I said. And he tells me that they don't include batteries in cameras anymore. An extra $230 later, I sit here trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
I called back and they told me that they couldn't list the items I had actually purchased because the order had been shipped. They could only tell me I ordered a "kit." I didn't, but that's besides the point. I have 14 days to return he says.
I called one more time asking to cancel the order because at this point, I don't like them and I don't want to do business with them. But it really did ship and my card had been charged so all I can do is sit and wait for a box of who knows what to show up. Seriously - what did I buy?
I expect a camera with no battery, but will it have a lense? Knobs? A shutter? Are all the componets now charged as separate items? Will I have to purchase them one at a time and assemble them over the years in the way Johnny Cash bought a Cadillac?
Maybe I should just go back to oil painting.
I called back and they told me that they couldn't list the items I had actually purchased because the order had been shipped. They could only tell me I ordered a "kit." I didn't, but that's besides the point. I have 14 days to return he says.
I called one more time asking to cancel the order because at this point, I don't like them and I don't want to do business with them. But it really did ship and my card had been charged so all I can do is sit and wait for a box of who knows what to show up. Seriously - what did I buy?
I expect a camera with no battery, but will it have a lense? Knobs? A shutter? Are all the componets now charged as separate items? Will I have to purchase them one at a time and assemble them over the years in the way Johnny Cash bought a Cadillac?
Maybe I should just go back to oil painting.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Zurich
Last night, I had a little piece of heaven: fondue from the people who invented it. I settled for the cheese fondue with pear brandy, served with pears and bread for dipping. It was delicious. Although the fondue restaurant was so busy we had to sit outside without heatlamps. It was chilly. And the people inside looked so warm! But the sterno kept us warm and after all it IS about the cheese. The town is so very cute. Houses date anywhere from 1300s to 1800s and advertise who lived there in keystones located above the doors or windows. Goethe was the one I recognized. It generally looks untouched except for the occasional starbucks.
The men here all look like the bad guys in WWII movies. And since they don't smile, they seem to be up to something. Curious. The women here are exceptionally tall. I have never felt so dwarfed except when I would audition in a roomfull of models. It's a lot like that.
The men here all look like the bad guys in WWII movies. And since they don't smile, they seem to be up to something. Curious. The women here are exceptionally tall. I have never felt so dwarfed except when I would audition in a roomfull of models. It's a lot like that.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Secret Attic
Amsterdam
March, 2007
There was a girl who lived in an attic for 2 years with her family and 4 others, never making a noise during normal business hours. She longed to go outside and play and breathe the fresh air and feel the sunshine on her face, but she knew that she could not without the dire consequences of having herself and her family taken away. At times she found solace in the chestnut tree that stood outside the old canal house where she was hiding. She could see the leaves from one of the windows. Somehow, she managed to find joy and hope, to dream and to forgive. She wrote about her feelings and her hopes and her dreams not only for herself but for all people in her diary. She was able to transcend her circumstances. But I'm sure she still felt afraid and alone at times.
I had the privilege of standing in the very spot where she slept, looking up to where she must have looked on sleepless nights, staring at the very wooden beam she stared at. I silently shouted out my hopes and fears and dreams into that beam as well. And wondered how many others had done the same.
One of Anne's hopes was to become a journalist when "it was all over." The first thing she wanted to do was to write a book called The Secret Attic. And in spite of all that happened to her, her hiding, her captivity at Bergen-Belsen and ultimately her death at same camp, she in fact did write that book and it was in fact published and has inspired many people all over the world, including me as a young girl and even more so today as I stand in the places she stood, see the things she saw. At the end of the tour, there is a video with a woman who had tossed care packages over the fence of the camp to Anne. She last saw her about a week before she died. And she says in the interview that if only Anne knew that her father was still alive, maybe she'd still have hope and she could have held on a little longer. It was only a month later that the camp was liberated by the Allied forces. But Anne felt alone since her sister died a few weeks earlier from Typhoid. She had been separated from the rest of her family. She was alone. And she lost hope. And she died.
The Anne Frank House invites its guests to sign their name on a leaf of a virtual chestnut tree. In order to become a part of the legacy, a part of that solace from 1944. In signing it, I felt a little less alone and a little more hopeful. Loneliness is as deadly as hope is lifesaving. Perhaps they cancel each other out.
March, 2007
There was a girl who lived in an attic for 2 years with her family and 4 others, never making a noise during normal business hours. She longed to go outside and play and breathe the fresh air and feel the sunshine on her face, but she knew that she could not without the dire consequences of having herself and her family taken away. At times she found solace in the chestnut tree that stood outside the old canal house where she was hiding. She could see the leaves from one of the windows. Somehow, she managed to find joy and hope, to dream and to forgive. She wrote about her feelings and her hopes and her dreams not only for herself but for all people in her diary. She was able to transcend her circumstances. But I'm sure she still felt afraid and alone at times.
I had the privilege of standing in the very spot where she slept, looking up to where she must have looked on sleepless nights, staring at the very wooden beam she stared at. I silently shouted out my hopes and fears and dreams into that beam as well. And wondered how many others had done the same.
One of Anne's hopes was to become a journalist when "it was all over." The first thing she wanted to do was to write a book called The Secret Attic. And in spite of all that happened to her, her hiding, her captivity at Bergen-Belsen and ultimately her death at same camp, she in fact did write that book and it was in fact published and has inspired many people all over the world, including me as a young girl and even more so today as I stand in the places she stood, see the things she saw. At the end of the tour, there is a video with a woman who had tossed care packages over the fence of the camp to Anne. She last saw her about a week before she died. And she says in the interview that if only Anne knew that her father was still alive, maybe she'd still have hope and she could have held on a little longer. It was only a month later that the camp was liberated by the Allied forces. But Anne felt alone since her sister died a few weeks earlier from Typhoid. She had been separated from the rest of her family. She was alone. And she lost hope. And she died.
The Anne Frank House invites its guests to sign their name on a leaf of a virtual chestnut tree. In order to become a part of the legacy, a part of that solace from 1944. In signing it, I felt a little less alone and a little more hopeful. Loneliness is as deadly as hope is lifesaving. Perhaps they cancel each other out.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Make that four...
The second to last time I saw Claire, she was sitting on a bed where everyone was storing coats and purses in the middle of a party. She was giving me great details about some strange events that had occurred in her life including a major breakup and a couple of misdiagnosed illnesses. She showed me her tattoo: the classic lighting bolt with TCB. She felt she was starting to take care of the business of her life.
She had always been such an inspiration to me as a budding improviser in Nashville and then Chicago. She is the one who signed me up for comedy classes where I met Rich Jeni (see last post.) She convinced me to do Second City.
The last time I saw Claire, she was in a parking lot in Sherman Oaks, Ca with her mom. I was going to lunch on a break from an acting workshop that I have no memory if. (Must have been good.) She looked confused and a little desperate. But then again, she had a flat tire. So would I.
And so Claire bought the ticket on Elvis airlines last week. Diabetes.
TCB, Claire.
She had always been such an inspiration to me as a budding improviser in Nashville and then Chicago. She is the one who signed me up for comedy classes where I met Rich Jeni (see last post.) She convinced me to do Second City.
The last time I saw Claire, she was in a parking lot in Sherman Oaks, Ca with her mom. I was going to lunch on a break from an acting workshop that I have no memory if. (Must have been good.) She looked confused and a little desperate. But then again, she had a flat tire. So would I.
And so Claire bought the ticket on Elvis airlines last week. Diabetes.
TCB, Claire.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
They come in threes
Monday, three people who in some way touched my life did so once again in the most profound way possible. They died.
Actually, they did not all die on the same day, but I found out about their deaths within 6 hours on Monday afternoon.
First up was a seasoned stand-up, a regular on late night shows, sometimes actor and all around good guy. I had the privilege of dining with him in 1990 in Chicago and getting to ride in his limo. He was kind and attentive, listening to me ramble on about emergency rooms and the general state of medical care. He encouraged me to create stand-up bits out of my own experiences, something I was never able to do. Mostly because I never thought I or my experiences were funny. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your headliner tonight, Richard Jeni!
A few hours later I was shocked to learn that the sandwich guy at work, Chef Johnny, found out he had liver cancer and promptly died 8 days later. He was an energetic man with a fondness for the ladies, unless he was in a cranky mood in which case he had a fondness for no one. He used to make me a special turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce until they stopped carrying cranberries. Bon Appetit, Chef.
Finally, at the end of the day I learned that Karen was gone. She was the wife of the guy who directed Brother Bear and animated most of the Disney movies you know. The recent ones, he's young. He and his wife shared among other things long blonde hair. I always loved that. And when she lost hers from the chemo, he shaved his head in solidarity. She was a beautiful soul. The sort of person you instantly feel comfortable with and the sort of person that inspired you to be better. I will always regret not going to see her in the hospital. I think I was hoping she would just get better and I would see her at parties as I always did. The world just seems a little more harsh.
We are born and we die and in between are good times and bad times. Hopefully, more good. And those are the ones we try to remember. Those are the ones we hope others will remember about us. I have a lot of remembering to do.
Actually, they did not all die on the same day, but I found out about their deaths within 6 hours on Monday afternoon.
First up was a seasoned stand-up, a regular on late night shows, sometimes actor and all around good guy. I had the privilege of dining with him in 1990 in Chicago and getting to ride in his limo. He was kind and attentive, listening to me ramble on about emergency rooms and the general state of medical care. He encouraged me to create stand-up bits out of my own experiences, something I was never able to do. Mostly because I never thought I or my experiences were funny. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your headliner tonight, Richard Jeni!
A few hours later I was shocked to learn that the sandwich guy at work, Chef Johnny, found out he had liver cancer and promptly died 8 days later. He was an energetic man with a fondness for the ladies, unless he was in a cranky mood in which case he had a fondness for no one. He used to make me a special turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce until they stopped carrying cranberries. Bon Appetit, Chef.
Finally, at the end of the day I learned that Karen was gone. She was the wife of the guy who directed Brother Bear and animated most of the Disney movies you know. The recent ones, he's young. He and his wife shared among other things long blonde hair. I always loved that. And when she lost hers from the chemo, he shaved his head in solidarity. She was a beautiful soul. The sort of person you instantly feel comfortable with and the sort of person that inspired you to be better. I will always regret not going to see her in the hospital. I think I was hoping she would just get better and I would see her at parties as I always did. The world just seems a little more harsh.
We are born and we die and in between are good times and bad times. Hopefully, more good. And those are the ones we try to remember. Those are the ones we hope others will remember about us. I have a lot of remembering to do.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
In Charm's Way
Yesterday was an incredibly bizarre day, in the best sense.
I rushed off the work at 9:30 which is the earliest I have been in since early January. But yesterday was the first of four sculpture classes with my friend, Dan. If you saw Dan, he'd look vaguely familiar since he resembles the I, Robot robots that he sculpted. I was very excited about my first sculpting class and it did not disappoint. Dan showed us how to use basic tools and work with Scuply clay. Our assignment is to model the head of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas, which is pretty basic. What is even more exciting is that in the class is Mike Belzer who was an animator on said film. At the break he brought in some actual Jack heads he had left over from the movie. He answered all our questions about the making of the film and how they did things. All while we sculpted away.
It was amazing fun and I was so jazzed, I carried that into my therapy session which followed immediately. When I got back to work, I was thrilled to be asked to witness a wedding in the Remembrance Garden right outside the building. Seems that Marlon's friends he had married on Hawaii had to redo the ceremony and sign the papers again. Something didn't translate from the Hawaii wedding. It was such a cute, fun little wedding with their daughter Ruby playing the whole time. As Marlon was doing the paperwork, I learned that the couple is actually from Seattle and were familiar with all the Seattle places I love. I had to stop short of telling them where I got married. For the first time, I wasn't able to tell my wedding story which I am so proud of. That was hard.
After a fiscal check up with the financial advisor, Ben, I headed home to work on my trip to Europe. Over my street was a bright, shiny sphere. I thought it was the full moon until I realized it was only about 30 feet in the air. Apparently a lighting company was testing a new type of theatrical light. And so there I was booking a hotel in Zurich while a fake moon shone overhead on me and my half finished sculpture.
Such is life.
I rushed off the work at 9:30 which is the earliest I have been in since early January. But yesterday was the first of four sculpture classes with my friend, Dan. If you saw Dan, he'd look vaguely familiar since he resembles the I, Robot robots that he sculpted. I was very excited about my first sculpting class and it did not disappoint. Dan showed us how to use basic tools and work with Scuply clay. Our assignment is to model the head of Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas, which is pretty basic. What is even more exciting is that in the class is Mike Belzer who was an animator on said film. At the break he brought in some actual Jack heads he had left over from the movie. He answered all our questions about the making of the film and how they did things. All while we sculpted away.
It was amazing fun and I was so jazzed, I carried that into my therapy session which followed immediately. When I got back to work, I was thrilled to be asked to witness a wedding in the Remembrance Garden right outside the building. Seems that Marlon's friends he had married on Hawaii had to redo the ceremony and sign the papers again. Something didn't translate from the Hawaii wedding. It was such a cute, fun little wedding with their daughter Ruby playing the whole time. As Marlon was doing the paperwork, I learned that the couple is actually from Seattle and were familiar with all the Seattle places I love. I had to stop short of telling them where I got married. For the first time, I wasn't able to tell my wedding story which I am so proud of. That was hard.
After a fiscal check up with the financial advisor, Ben, I headed home to work on my trip to Europe. Over my street was a bright, shiny sphere. I thought it was the full moon until I realized it was only about 30 feet in the air. Apparently a lighting company was testing a new type of theatrical light. And so there I was booking a hotel in Zurich while a fake moon shone overhead on me and my half finished sculpture.
Such is life.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Clean up on aisle 8
On Sunday morning, I headed over to the neighborhood Pavillions, an upscale groceria, to get some edibles for the Oscar Party later that afternoon. Still in my lonely phase, I was wearing a black workout ensemble which I had slept in but rolled all the cat hair off. A hat I figured would hide my make-up-less face and the cut above my lip from a sharp plastic bit on a water bottle. At least I was hydrated.
I raced to find the Boston Creme Pie I had seen earlier in the week to highlight my themed cuisine for the party. Each nominated Best Pic is represented:
Iwo Jima = edamame and gyoza
Little Miss Sunshine = Olives and Olive tapinade (for the main character's name)
The Queen = stilton and bangers
The Departed = the aforementioned Boston Creme Pie
Babel = humus and 7 layer dip
SCORE! they had the pie. I didn't have the time to create one myself. And that's when I saw him. John Lassiter. CEO of Disney Creative and Pixar. He's pushing a trolley along the cheese aisle. I smile and nod, as I usually do when I see him in the hallway at work. But out of context, I am nothing more than a very friendly yet lonely cat owner in the cheese aisle. And then I remember that he's going to the Oscars THAT AFTERNOON! Hey, I should have said something to him such as, "Good Luck!" "Don't trip on your way to the stage!" You know, something pithy.
I make my way around the store searching for him and there he is on the other side of the produce section talking to the VP on Feature Animation, Carolyn and her beau and daughter. By the time I make my way over, he's scooted over to the checkout. So I chat it up with Carolyn for a bit and we head our separate ways.
My phone rings. I answer. "Dara McGarry. I can hear you giggle all the way over in the wine section." It was John and his wife Audrey. John sits next to me at work. He knows my giggle. I head over to wines and spirits and find them shopping for the wine to bring to my house later. (6 bottles total were consumed, I think mostly by me and Audrey, judging from our headaches.) We recount the days events and the impossibility that we are all at Pavillions at the same time.
I make my way back to shopping, as there is still so much left to buy! At least 30 minutes go by and there is John Lassiter again, this time with a hand basket. He's vacantly roaming the aisles. This time, I stop and wish him luck. His glassy stare tells me I'm still the loney cat owner. I introduce myself and his gaze instantly turns warm as he shakes my hand and seemingly tries to memorize my face, I hope not to have me sacked later. After the awkward "we have nothing more to say" pause, we go our separate ways. But I keep seeing him in teh aisles. It's now 1:00. The pre-show starts at 3:00. I'm concerned. "Shouldn't you be getting your tux on about now?" He looks dejected. "Yeah, I really should be getting ready. My wife needed hair spray," he says picking up a bottle of water to read the ingredients. Clearly he was nervous. I give him one more good luck and decide to give the poor man his space. he obviously doesn't need another friendly, hairy cat lady giving him Oscar advice.
I was really hoping he'd win.
I raced to find the Boston Creme Pie I had seen earlier in the week to highlight my themed cuisine for the party. Each nominated Best Pic is represented:
Iwo Jima = edamame and gyoza
Little Miss Sunshine = Olives and Olive tapinade (for the main character's name)
The Queen = stilton and bangers
The Departed = the aforementioned Boston Creme Pie
Babel = humus and 7 layer dip
SCORE! they had the pie. I didn't have the time to create one myself. And that's when I saw him. John Lassiter. CEO of Disney Creative and Pixar. He's pushing a trolley along the cheese aisle. I smile and nod, as I usually do when I see him in the hallway at work. But out of context, I am nothing more than a very friendly yet lonely cat owner in the cheese aisle. And then I remember that he's going to the Oscars THAT AFTERNOON! Hey, I should have said something to him such as, "Good Luck!" "Don't trip on your way to the stage!" You know, something pithy.
I make my way around the store searching for him and there he is on the other side of the produce section talking to the VP on Feature Animation, Carolyn and her beau and daughter. By the time I make my way over, he's scooted over to the checkout. So I chat it up with Carolyn for a bit and we head our separate ways.
My phone rings. I answer. "Dara McGarry. I can hear you giggle all the way over in the wine section." It was John and his wife Audrey. John sits next to me at work. He knows my giggle. I head over to wines and spirits and find them shopping for the wine to bring to my house later. (6 bottles total were consumed, I think mostly by me and Audrey, judging from our headaches.) We recount the days events and the impossibility that we are all at Pavillions at the same time.
I make my way back to shopping, as there is still so much left to buy! At least 30 minutes go by and there is John Lassiter again, this time with a hand basket. He's vacantly roaming the aisles. This time, I stop and wish him luck. His glassy stare tells me I'm still the loney cat owner. I introduce myself and his gaze instantly turns warm as he shakes my hand and seemingly tries to memorize my face, I hope not to have me sacked later. After the awkward "we have nothing more to say" pause, we go our separate ways. But I keep seeing him in teh aisles. It's now 1:00. The pre-show starts at 3:00. I'm concerned. "Shouldn't you be getting your tux on about now?" He looks dejected. "Yeah, I really should be getting ready. My wife needed hair spray," he says picking up a bottle of water to read the ingredients. Clearly he was nervous. I give him one more good luck and decide to give the poor man his space. he obviously doesn't need another friendly, hairy cat lady giving him Oscar advice.
I was really hoping he'd win.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Being and Loneliness
I have come to the astonishing conclusion that I absolutely hate being alone. I will do anything to avoid it including making bad decisions. When I was growing up, my brother was 11 years older and probably still is. By the time I was 6, he was off to college and I was an only child. We lived in a neighborhood where the houses were very far apart and there weren't any kids there anyway. I was so lonely I took to spraying a variety of harmless aerosols on my bedroom wall. Things like hairspray and deodorant. I never said I wasn't easily entertained. I kept denying that I was doing it. It didn't really leave a mark anyway, so I wondered what all the fuss was about. But my insistence on lying left my parents no alternative but to ground me for a week. I was mad of course, but even worse I was stuck in my bedroom without a spray can. Horrors. And that left me where I am today: lonely and bored. What a lethal combination. Anyone got a can of aqua net?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Keep Moving Forward
It happens to be the catch phrase for the movie I just spent the last 2 years and 2 months of my life working on. And it also seems to be the best advice I can give myself. Just like Lewis in the movie, I have this desire to go back and change things in the past, to undo some wrongs or perhaps to not do some wrongs. Maybe to do some things I didn't...etc. Oh, I guess this will make more sense after you see the movie on March 30. (BTW, the intro on the web page features some of the cool efx my department did. So proud of those guys.)
There is a ridiculous software application used by companies around the world and universally hated by them as well. It's called SAP. If you happen to be in any SAP module, you can't really step backwards like you are probably doing right now, hitting the back button back into MYSpace and finally back to your midget porn you were surfing earlier. Much more interesting than my drivel. Anyhoo, in order to get anywhere in SAP, you have to click forward. Ridiculous and time consuming. But you just simply can't go backwards. Which means you usually can't get the exact same page more than once.
I guess that's supposed to be a life lesson or something like that.
There is a ridiculous software application used by companies around the world and universally hated by them as well. It's called SAP. If you happen to be in any SAP module, you can't really step backwards like you are probably doing right now, hitting the back button back into MYSpace and finally back to your midget porn you were surfing earlier. Much more interesting than my drivel. Anyhoo, in order to get anywhere in SAP, you have to click forward. Ridiculous and time consuming. But you just simply can't go backwards. Which means you usually can't get the exact same page more than once.
I guess that's supposed to be a life lesson or something like that.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Firecracker
Yesterday, in the pouring rain, James, Marlon and I headed to Chinatown to run the annual Firecracker 5/10k race. I opted for the 5k since I've been under the weather lately and not running so much. James and Marlon were set on the 10k. The race commemorates the Chinese Lunar new year 4705 - the year of the Boar. As the celebrity (I didn't know who he was but I am sure he is famous somewhere) stated before the race, "The year of the Boar is sure to be either boring or all about you bringing home the bacon." Mmmmmm, bacon. Ironically, we had bacon that morning not even realizing it's connection to the lunar calendar.
As usual, we spotted other Disneyites amongst the ranks and promised to catch up with each other post race for the usual dim sum at Emperor's Palace. We waited in the rain for the start which is supposed to include the Lion Dance and 10, 000 firecrackers to ward off evil spirits. We were right up at the start. Soon enough, the announcer came forth and introduced a quartet of lovely young women to sing the national anthem. They were called Jazzmin and it was the best rendition of that impossible song I've heard in well, maybe forever. It was in fact jazzy. Then the Lion Dancers took center stage (or street as it were) and began the traditional dance of the 2 lions that, well, dance. Not sure what it is supposed to represent but it was really beautiful. They tossed an orange and a cabbage back and forth. It was kinda cool, in a salad sort of way. And then, the 10, 000 firecrackers were lit. And we were right next to them. That's a lot of firecrackers. Bits of exploding cracker hit our hats and faces. I had my iPod buds in just to absorb the noise, so it wasn't too bad. It was amazingly wonderful. So much smoke. The Lions danced all the while looking like two demented puppets in a fog.
Then they called the 5k runners to the line and off we went. I had a great spot up front and was able to run from the sound of the horn. Usually I'm in the back and have to wait and walk a good 2 minutes before the traffic has cleared enough to run. I felt incredibly energized because of the firecrackers and the Lions and the rain. I ran hard even as we started to ascend the first hill. I thought there was only one so I gave it my all. Oh no. There wasn't just one hill. Half the race was a hill. And not just any hill. Elysian Park hill. By Dodger Stadium. Big hill. But I ran it. And I kept running even when I thought I was going to pass out. It's only 3 miles I thought. And just when I thought I couldn't go any more, the down hill would start where I could really race, passing tons to people who were too nervous to go too fast in the rain. I was covered head to toe, so I figured it would be more fun to go fast and who cares if I take a header. But I didn't. And so I raced past the drummers and on to the finish. Just as I approached the finish, the 10k was starting. There was Marlon and James right up front and racing up to the hills, all bright and happy. We waved and shouted and on to the finish I went.
I raced in passing Kathleen Wilhoite.
She spent her time in the chute talking about how disappointed she was with her time. I offered that the hills were really killer and certainly affect your time if you don't train on them. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I was more than happy with my time. Since I didn't train for the race at all and still came out with my best time on a 5k to date: 31:50 on the race timer and 31:33 on my own timer. (Meaning about 20 seconds is how long it took me to pass the start line. This race is not chip timed so everyone has the same start time even though not everyone passes the start line together.) I was pleased.
And so I ate the complimentary banana and pineapple juice, but forgoing the wontons to save room for dim sum. I saw more Disney people and then made my way to the finish line to watch for the boys. James came in at 47:50 and Marlon at 50. Another Disneyite, Taralyn, found us and talked incessantly the rest of the time about her 5k in 45:47 and a brief stint at the Playboy channel. The never ending monologue put a damper on the less than yummy dim sum meal, but all in all it was an incredibly fun time. And that is probably the only time I will ever get into Emperor's Palace without waiting for a table. The trick apparently is to get there at 10am.
I'll definitely do it next year.
As usual, we spotted other Disneyites amongst the ranks and promised to catch up with each other post race for the usual dim sum at Emperor's Palace. We waited in the rain for the start which is supposed to include the Lion Dance and 10, 000 firecrackers to ward off evil spirits. We were right up at the start. Soon enough, the announcer came forth and introduced a quartet of lovely young women to sing the national anthem. They were called Jazzmin and it was the best rendition of that impossible song I've heard in well, maybe forever. It was in fact jazzy. Then the Lion Dancers took center stage (or street as it were) and began the traditional dance of the 2 lions that, well, dance. Not sure what it is supposed to represent but it was really beautiful. They tossed an orange and a cabbage back and forth. It was kinda cool, in a salad sort of way. And then, the 10, 000 firecrackers were lit. And we were right next to them. That's a lot of firecrackers. Bits of exploding cracker hit our hats and faces. I had my iPod buds in just to absorb the noise, so it wasn't too bad. It was amazingly wonderful. So much smoke. The Lions danced all the while looking like two demented puppets in a fog.
Then they called the 5k runners to the line and off we went. I had a great spot up front and was able to run from the sound of the horn. Usually I'm in the back and have to wait and walk a good 2 minutes before the traffic has cleared enough to run. I felt incredibly energized because of the firecrackers and the Lions and the rain. I ran hard even as we started to ascend the first hill. I thought there was only one so I gave it my all. Oh no. There wasn't just one hill. Half the race was a hill. And not just any hill. Elysian Park hill. By Dodger Stadium. Big hill. But I ran it. And I kept running even when I thought I was going to pass out. It's only 3 miles I thought. And just when I thought I couldn't go any more, the down hill would start where I could really race, passing tons to people who were too nervous to go too fast in the rain. I was covered head to toe, so I figured it would be more fun to go fast and who cares if I take a header. But I didn't. And so I raced past the drummers and on to the finish. Just as I approached the finish, the 10k was starting. There was Marlon and James right up front and racing up to the hills, all bright and happy. We waved and shouted and on to the finish I went.
I raced in passing Kathleen Wilhoite.
She spent her time in the chute talking about how disappointed she was with her time. I offered that the hills were really killer and certainly affect your time if you don't train on them. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I was more than happy with my time. Since I didn't train for the race at all and still came out with my best time on a 5k to date: 31:50 on the race timer and 31:33 on my own timer. (Meaning about 20 seconds is how long it took me to pass the start line. This race is not chip timed so everyone has the same start time even though not everyone passes the start line together.) I was pleased.
And so I ate the complimentary banana and pineapple juice, but forgoing the wontons to save room for dim sum. I saw more Disney people and then made my way to the finish line to watch for the boys. James came in at 47:50 and Marlon at 50. Another Disneyite, Taralyn, found us and talked incessantly the rest of the time about her 5k in 45:47 and a brief stint at the Playboy channel. The never ending monologue put a damper on the less than yummy dim sum meal, but all in all it was an incredibly fun time. And that is probably the only time I will ever get into Emperor's Palace without waiting for a table. The trick apparently is to get there at 10am.
I'll definitely do it next year.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Parking Garage for Me
(Photo to come)
It's not everyday you see a pirate ship on top of the parking garage at work. Pirates 3 apparently has some pick up shots to do this month ( better hurry! The film releases in May!) so the ship was rebuilt on top of the garage. ABC has a tendency to use said garage in a variety of garage-y shows such as Alias. It's not uncommon to see a film crew around. You can tell it's a film crew because it's a huge generator and a bunch of guys sitting around "on union break." But I have to say, I don't recall ever seeing a giant ship on the 5th floor of a garage.
We considered trying to drive all the way up to the ship. Apparently the security isn't all that tight since the principal actors are not involved.
Last summer, the lot was abuzz with young secretaries from all over the company loitering around the commissary and nearby sound stages waiting for a glimpse of Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp. Mr Bloom would occasionally appear, sometimes with his dog, in the commissary. I saw him once on his cell phone smoking. But Mr Depp proved to be a more difficult find. Rare is the person who has actually seen him. I thought I saw him once, but honestly in a crowd of pirates, who can tell?
It's not everyday you see a pirate ship on top of the parking garage at work. Pirates 3 apparently has some pick up shots to do this month ( better hurry! The film releases in May!) so the ship was rebuilt on top of the garage. ABC has a tendency to use said garage in a variety of garage-y shows such as Alias. It's not uncommon to see a film crew around. You can tell it's a film crew because it's a huge generator and a bunch of guys sitting around "on union break." But I have to say, I don't recall ever seeing a giant ship on the 5th floor of a garage.
We considered trying to drive all the way up to the ship. Apparently the security isn't all that tight since the principal actors are not involved.
Last summer, the lot was abuzz with young secretaries from all over the company loitering around the commissary and nearby sound stages waiting for a glimpse of Orlando Bloom or Johnny Depp. Mr Bloom would occasionally appear, sometimes with his dog, in the commissary. I saw him once on his cell phone smoking. But Mr Depp proved to be a more difficult find. Rare is the person who has actually seen him. I thought I saw him once, but honestly in a crowd of pirates, who can tell?
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Rock, Paper, Scissors
Yesterday, we filed the papers. THOSE papers that one files to "dissolve a marriage." Actually, it's dissolution, but I like dissolve better. I think it's more descriptive. When asked by the paralegal which one of us would be the petitioner, we looked at each other and simutaeously said, "Rock, Paper, Scissors??" And so we did. Russ drew scissors and I drew paper. Then we realized that we hadn't established which position the winner would take. But he chose petitioner. Not that it really matters in our case. We laughed and giggles our way through whatever they call that part. And then we left. We left each other standing on Riverside Dr. He turned his MiniCooper to head east and I continued my Subaru heading west. And thus, at sunset on January 20, 2007, we literally went our separate ways.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
We went to see Carrie Fisher's one woman show last night. It was of course hilarious. I think my favorite part was the flow chart of her parents and Elizabeth Taylor. Her 14 yr old daughter, Billie, has a crush on Liz's 15 yr old grandson and she speculates whether or not they are actually related. I had no idea how much drama the poor thing had to endure as a child. I also had no idea that Eddie Fisher is still alive. And apparently dating all of Chinatown.We had the best seats in the house, thanks to Ian, front row center. And Carrie had a cold. no surprise since I had one too over Christmas as did everyone else apparently. She would occasionally cough and she mentioned it a few times.
The lady next to, who I thought by the smell must have been a student, spent the whole time breathing through her sweater. I thought she was cold. But halfway through act one, Carrie (we're on a first name basis since I was close enough to feel her spit) stopped the show to ask if she was OK. Now, if someone stopped their show to ask me how I was doing, I would be horrified. And I would give someone or two word answer and pray that the show would continue.
But not my new neighbor.
She was visibly embarrassed. But she spoke anyway: "I'm sorry. I just had surgery. And I can't be around germs. I'm afraid I'm going to catch something."
That wasn't the response Carrie was counting on. She seemed relieved that the poor girl wasn't dying. And then horrified that she was talking about her surgery during her show. I have a feeling this may turn into Carrie's next show.
And I hope to have front row center seats again.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Tree of Life
Maybe because it's New Years, I have this weird feeling of not knowing where I am or what I'm doing. Why can't they make a GPS for life? I had this strange revelation last night that I'm not sure if I'm on the trunk or a small branch of this tree, metaphorically speaking of course. Maybe I'm not even on the tree at all. What's not in this photo is the winery dumpster, just beyond the tree in the parking lot. Maybe that's where I am.
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