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 |   Nadanother blog...sheesh, I guess I DO blog. Completed. |
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I've had a rich past, yet am making a new one with plenty of life's experiences to draw from! I invite you to come along and see what trouble I get into. I'll blog about my life, present, past... whatever comes to mind at the time. I'll try not to be too serious most of the time, heck we get enough of that just living. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Happy New Year! For the mirroring blog series we do on Saturdays:
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Many thanks to vivacious   for the great header!“I Second That Emotion” Part~26 Every Breath You Take, Police-1983 Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rygpvh5bV4 In mid January Lance and I spent a weekend at the beach house, and it was when I called Willhemina, the caterer I’d used for our Christmas party last year. I wanted to lock her up for our wedding. Knowing this was not my first marriage, even though it was Lance’s, we preferred to have a small, intimate wedding. It would be at the beach house, with only forty family and friends invited. This would be in stark contrast to the flamboyant and very expensive weddings of some of his friends. We preferred to keep it small and plan a honeymoon in Europe. Besides, I felt my parents had paid for one wedding, so I would be paying for as much of the wedding as I could. That meant a very small budget. I was determined not to borrow any from my parents. The date we had chose was June 19, a Sunday, coincidently also Father’s Day this year. We would have the ceremony at noon on the small paddle court in the front, followed by an outdoor lunch on the beach side of the house. I would have only a matron-of-honor, Lance would have a best man. No flower girl, but the ring bearer would be my son. My parents and Mike would fly in a few days beforehand, and all out of town guests would stay in the family motel. Because my parents lived out of town, and because Lance’s mother did not have a daughter I wanted to bring her with me to shop for a wedding dress. Of course I had looked through all of the bridal magazines, and I wanted something not white, but also something that would be appropriate for a garden style wedding. We met in February at the bridal salon I had driven by on so many occasions. I had seen a gown in the magazines, one expressing what I hoped to achieve with my gown; an antiques white, drop-waist, off-the-shoulder gown. It had silk flowers in pink and white, seed pearls and a soft pink ribbon accenting the low waist. Sue took a seat as I began going through the sale rack of gowns, as my dress budget was $300. More than I ever spent on a dress, but so much less money than the gowns I was seeing. The saleswoman asked what kind of wedding, and a few other questions, then set out to find something in my budget. Finally she had a few thrown over her arm and showed me to the fitting room. As she hung them up my heart sank, nothing was looking like what I wanted. Undaunted she told me to try them on. To me, they were too much for an outdoor, garden wedding. Also, they were just too white. Then she burst into the room holding a sample dress, not just any sample dress, but the exact one I had seen in the magazine! I slipped it on, she fitted it to me by artfully pinning it and I stepped out so Lance’s mother could see it. Her wide smile and nod of approval just reinforced the resolve. “I’ll take this one.” We soon found the right headpiece, a wreath of pink flowers and ribbons with just a long netting. I did not want a traditional veil, so this was perfection. I did not go over budget either. Things were falling into place perfectly, except in March I broke my right foot. To clarify, it was a bone in the ball of my foot. I was going to have to wear a flat platform shoe for six weeks. By May the foot had healed and we had gotten most of the details nailed down. My son would fly in a few days prior, my parents would also come in then. We’d all go up to the beach house for a rehearsal dinner on Friday night, have dinner out with my matron of honor and her husband on Saturday, and get married at noon on Sunday. Everything fell into place, and Saturday morning me, Mike, my parents, and my hairdresser were all in the motel, in various states of readiness. I let my hairdresser do my mother’s hair first, then mine. While mine was being done, the three of them went on to the beach house while I quietly went about getting ready for this day I had been hoping would arrive. The family sent over Scott in a Rolls Royce to pick me up and bring me to the house. I was excited and nervous, but eager to begin. I was ushered into one of the guest rooms, and the photographer began shooting the formal pre-wedding pictures. Here is the one he took of Lance: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Here is mine: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** We had a harpist to play the music, and soon I heard the soft, lilting strings of the Wedding March. It was time. My father escorted me down the center isle, twenty family and friends on either side. My nerves were oddly calm, maybe it was because I knew this was right. As we stood under the flower entwined Chuppah with Scott, my son, and Judy as witnesses, the Rabbi began. As if on que, a helicopter flew overhead. As luck would have it, I was taping the ceremony (not videotaping, but on cassette). Nobody could hear anything so we stopped the ceremony until it passed. This must have thrown off the Rabbi, as when we began again and it came to the part of; “Will you Sheila take this man, Scott to be your lawful....” and we all busted up laughing! I spoke up, “It’s Lance I’m marrying Rabbi.” “Oh yes, please forgive me.” Then he went on, once the laughter died down. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** We then stomped on the glass to a chorus of “Mazaltov”, and the celebration began! Of course there were more photos and a toast to us as the harpist plucked out, “Every Breath You Take”: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Lance and I with Mike; ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Then it was off to the back side of the house where our luncheon was to begin. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Everything was perfect, and by five that evening Lance and I were back in our home, just savoring the day. Our flight to Switzerland was departing first thing in the morning, so we wanted to get our last minute packing completed, so the honeymoon could begin! We went to Zurich, stayed a few days, rented a car and drove to Interlaken, Switzerland for three nights, then through the Alps to Florence Italy for a couple of nights, then San Remo, Italy for a night on our way to Nice’, Cannes and Monte Carlo, and finally ending up in Paris, before coming home on July 11th. It was an amazing trip. The wedding reception for about 100 of our friends and family was at a Mexican restaurant we took over for that Sunday afternoon. By this time we had been married nearly a month, and were quite relaxed. It was a wonderful day. Here I am between the two brothers that day: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** And here is a photograph of my “Hollywood table”...I think you will recognize them from previous blogs; Left to Right...the twins, producer Gustav and his twin (my Oscar date) Berteil, Lou Moorheim (one of my writing mentors) and his wife Marilyn, and of course, Lance and I. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Again, this entry is so long, so I'll just end this week's entry by saying..."and they lived happily ever after." |
| I don't know about ya'll but I've had about all I can take of reporters-at-the-mall trying to make a story where there is NO story. I feel absolutely insulted when they cut to a reporter at some mall who is asking people what they are buying, or worse, sitting next to a Karoke singing Santa. The first time the camera went to this particular mall the poor reporter had to say, "The Karoke Santa is on a break". Indeed, there was an empty Santa throne, and a microphone standing in front of it. Poor little gal was reduced to the station anchors/producers playing rap music in her ear and telling her to dance. She did. I was surprised when the Santa did show up the next segment, he was not singing, "It's hard out here for a pimp..." Isn't that exactly what Mall Santa's are doing anyway? They sure dress like it. I mean here in California it can be nearly 80º and then they cut to a picture of some guy dressed like he was in a freaking igloo...come on, in Hawaii Santa used to be on surfboard, shirtless, tan and looking like he was enjoying himself...I think the reindeers were in hammocks under swaying palms. At least put our Santa's in flip flops and red shorts. I can deal with the hat and beard. Enough of that though. I hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving...from the blogs I did see it seems like it. Lance and me, my son, my father and his wife all went to Scott and Christine’s house, for the new grandbaby's first Thanksgiving. Mr. Can Hardly managed to help ruin yet another special day by refusing to let my mother-in-law join the family. He really didn't ruin it, but not having my mother-in-law there was sad. Scott's daughter, Robyn stayed at Vassar, since she only had four days off, and it is a long flight. She did send an email to be read at the table though. U-m-m...well, I see Liberalism is alive and well at Vassar. This was a single-spaced admonishment to all of us to remember some Indian tribes in upstate NY, walk to the farmers' market (though she mentioned the one there was across the street from the college...um, okay), preached anti-materialism, not to waste of resources, don't wrap your Christmas presents, don't buy stuff, make it, and so forth. How wonderful to know she is so full of great suggestions how we should be behaving, and what we need to be thinking about. All the while her dad was reading this, we sat in her family dining room, eating Organic Turkey, gluten free everything. It was an odd moment for me, realizing her mother and father had been paying, what I consider, ridiculously high tuition, since she was fourteen, to indulge “her” request to go to private schools on the opposite side of the country, requiring her parents to fly back and forth to New York state, for four years, every holiday, parent meeting and so forth. I know how difficult it was for Scott and Christine, traveling in a wheelchair, going to see all of her high school programs in schools built so many years ago it was difficult, at best. I don't suppose she thought of all the fossil fuel burned for that? Or maybe she forgot her carbon footprint, left in Italy, Ireland, Africa (twice), France, ....well, you get the idea.  When we got home I was talking to him about it and he said, “Think back to when you were eighteen and in college.” Uh...you mean beauty school? “I’m sorry, but when I was eighteen I was a mother and wife of a soldier fighting in a war...” Sometimes I have to remind him I had a way different life than him. To wrap up the night we watched the History Channel...a program called, “Life After People”. Good grief, it was basically going to be as it was before man within a few hundred years, except cats would rule. No buildings would survive the ravages...heck, no record of humans would even exist, even in space the signals would be reduced to static. So much for all the signals we send, beaming up music etc. We really are an arrogant species.  Hope ya’ll are relaxing now...I have to go take my small turkey out of the oven...no way was I going three days without turkey leftovers! |
| (A note here, with the awful news happening in Mumbai, India now, this seems very trivial. Since I promised to write it for today, I am putting it in the blog space today, but my heart is heavy and I hope all of your families are together.) WARNING, DRUGS SPOKEN ABOUT The night I met Dr. Hunter Thompson was in 1975 . I cannot remember the date exactly, as I did not keep those appointment books I guess. Sigh. Well here goes, to the best of memory. I do know at the time, I was working in collaboration with Bill Cardozo, who had once been the editor for The Globe Magazine of the Boston Globe newspaper, as well as a writer for Rolling Stone, among other credentials. He and I were working together writing a piece to have been named “Desert Flower”. In fact, he interviewed me for it over many hours. I still have those cassette tapes (as well as his writing, which I may share one day) before we moved on to other things. As you know, I ended up writing my own story, with his encouragement. Anyway, Bill was a fascinating and very serious, dedicated individual. When he asked me to accompany him to the Rolling Stone’s party I was thrilled to be included. I knew there would be many successful writers there, how exciting! The evening of the party I opened my door for Bill and was very surprised to find him standing there with another much taller man. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses and smoking, oddly, with the cigarette held between his second and third fingers. (This was a trait well documented with him.) I had heard of Hunter because Bill was a friend of his, both wrote for the magazine. Since he already had quite the reputation after his Fear and Loathing books as well as his legendary Hell’s Angels’ book, I was a bit star-struck. Bill also had coined the term “Gonzo Journalism” to describe his friend Hunter’s writing style, something Hunter had embraced, and some would say built on. Hunter acknowledged the introduction to me with a dazed nod, and I invited them in. Immediately Hunter rolled up a hundred dollar bill and snorted up some white powder he had lined up on a table. He offered some to both of us. As I recall we each did a line, it seemed to be expected. (This was the first experience I ever had with the drug, cocaine. I experimented with some different drugs over the years, but this was my first exposure to this particular drug, and immediately I regretted it as my heart raced.) Once that was done, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the biggest, fattest joint I had ever seen. He fired it up, and offered to us. He asked me if I had any Chivas Regal. I did not, too expensive for my tastes. I passed the joint along to Bill. I had faked taking a hit; not because I did not like it, but because I had no idea how the cocaine would react with it. I wanted to maintain some control, and so far it had worked. Other than my heart racing I was remarkably clear. (Of course I understand only too well this is why so many people became addicted to it; the false sense of well-being.) Bill drove us (thankfully safely) to a hotel downtown, where the party would be. I have to say, the magazine had taken a suite of rooms in the luxury hotel, so this was quite unusual to me, I was expecting a private banquet room, which shows my ignorance of the scene at that time. Hunter found the room number he had written on a scrap of paper. The three of us, were probably an odd sight walking through this downtown hotel, in retrospect. A balding Hunter wore a funny hat, green corduroy blazer and the omnipresent sunglasses. Bill was shorter with his wiry, curly hair and glasses and an ill-fitting blue blazer, he looked almost square in comparison. Yours truly had heard “party” and dressed up in a bright red dress and heels trying to keep up with the “big boys”. When we located the right corridor, then room number he banged on the door. I looked around to see if anyone was disturbed, but the hallway was quiet. I had been unable to keep up with the steady stream of seemingly incoherent things he had spoken about in the car on the way over, or as we walked. I do remember he would have a coherent moment, and Bill seemed to speak his language enough to keep the conversation going. I got a sentence or two, but by the time I could answer, he had moved along in his thought process. Just as well, I hated to think I would sound stupid. We stood there in the hall for what seemed an eternity. Finally, when the door opened, I was astounded at the amount of smoke and number of people moving about in the room. We were let in immediately, the door shut behind us and soon I found myself wandering around, alone, as Hunter and Bill were pulled into different groups of conversations. That left me alone to explore. There were at least three rooms all opening to each other. On banquet style tables, in each room, I saw something I would never, ever witness again; big silver bowls filled with the white powder. I now knew they contained the drug of people’s choice. My jaw hit the floor, as the drug use was more flagrant than any I had ever seen before, or after. People were drinking, doing drugs and in general it was a kind of orderly chaos. Some people seemed especially out of it, as they came out of the bathrooms in various states of disarray. I could not tell you the names of anyone else there, nor how long I was there... only knowing it is a scene we did not stay long in. I was glad, being paranoid about the open use of the drugs, and was afraid of a police raid. Things were deteriorating quickly and I wanted no part of any of it. Apparently neither did my two companions. I do know on our way back we stopped at a liquor store in Hollywood and I was given some money to buy some Chivas for Hunter, which I did. I got dropped off at my place, and they went on to? I did not even want to know frankly. I was grateful to be home, safe-and-sound. I never saw Hunter again, though I did hear of his exploits in the following years. Both of these men are dead, Hunter by his own hand in 2005. Bill died just a year later, in 2006, from a heart attack. Both of them left their marks on the times, and in my memories. |
| I know this is a rough time for many, if not all of us. It's an unbelievable time. The stresses, the "change" of so many things and the holidays, what some call a perfect storm. I agree... Emotionally we all are on edge, and who knows, they say it will be worse before it gets better. If it does we'll be forced to use our every emotional resource, but I have no doubt we can, and will. You see, we do know sacrifice, and we are still here. We are survivors and we shall get through all of this with a little help from our friends. I thank each of you for making this a bright spot during my own downturn. When I see you take the time to wrote me a kind word in my comments, or an email I know people are rooting for us. I get every bit as much good feelings from being able to make time to speak and encourage you in my comments. Life is good, in spite of all of the obstacles, we are here, doing good things. I'm working on a blog that should have been in the series, but hey...condensing years has left me room to fill in stuff. I'll warn you ahead of time...it will be talking about illegal drugs, but could I write about Dr. Hunter Thomson and leave out drugs? Impossible. So you have been warned. Oh, and it was requested. Okay, off for the night....have a clear head and a smile on your face tomorrow...it helps! |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Many thanks to vivacious for the great header!1982-“I've Never Been To Me” Sung by Charlene Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-vx4GcjASE * Note: This song expresses, more than any others, how I felt about myself up until I met Lance. Thanks to my dear friend Scarlett for letting me make this selection for this year.When we last left Lance and Sheila, it was Christmas eve of 1981, he had proposed marriage and I accepted. But I did forget a minor detail...you see Lance waited (in what seemed like an eternity to pass) for a minute and then uttered these words.... “Would you not tell anyone about this until I have told my parents?” “Okay.” You see, I believed he meant in the next week or so. Cut to around 10:00 Saturday, February 22nd morning. Finally, after nearly sixty days, I had built up his courage enough he was going to have the “talk” with his parents. I was not getting any younger, and I wanted to tell my family and friends, the ones who had seen me through a growing period of my life. It was amusing...for a while, but it was a form of validation for me. I proved I was not just some commodity, to myself, but it was now time to allow myself the rewards of an entire realization of a process I wanted to shout to the world about. I always wanted a wonderful man, one who was kind, gentle and who loved me for me. Now I had one. You know the saying, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going?” Well, after he left, I was so antsy and impatient I figured I would do something to help keep me calm, I went fishing. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The hours flew by, and as you can see, I caught one, as documented by the family fishing next to me. By the time I got home around three that afternoon I figured he would be home. Lance’s car was still not in the carport. I could not believe it, something must have gone horribly wrong. Now I was worried. As I walked back to the bedroom the telephone rang. I ran to answer it, expecting it to be Lance. "Hello." It was his mother, “Sheila?” I swallowed hard, steeling myself. “Yes. Hi Sue.” “Welcome to the family sweetheart.” I was so relieved. I know I broke into laughter, especially when I thought of my poor Lance and what they must have put him through. He was their oldest child, and even though I knew his parents liked me, did they want me in their family, with all they knew about my past. Now I had my answer. Lance got home soon afterwards, apparently he and his dad had been discussing family business, and he had just lost track of the time. It would not be the last though. We had dinner with a few friends that night, and now we could announce our engagement. The ring was something he had gotten on his own, after I vetoed a Princess Di sapphire design we had seen one day while out looking at styles. After Tiffanys, we went down to have a late breakfast in the “Pretty Woman” hotel coffeeshop where we sat in a booth and I looked up at the booth across the isle and found myself gazing into Paul Newman’s incredible blue eyes. (Yes, I wrote this in my appointment book.) Work was getting busier for me, I had a new agent, and was also meeting with my two writing mentors, Lou Moorheim and Milton Gelman, trying to get something I had written off of the ground. Hollywood was proving to be a very tough nut to crack, Inside Info or not. I came up with another concept for a series, “Military Brats”, and wrote out the proposal for this also. Meanwhile, my friend Sully had notified me about something else, which had happened recently, in Australia. In the Australian outback, the daughter of the owners of the camp (where we had hunted), Peta Lynn, had miraculously saved their worker Graham from the clutches of a thirteen foot long crocodile. She was only twelve. The story so fascinated me I asked Sully to speak with her parents, Wendy and Rob, to get exclusivity for me, with regards to her story. He asked me to draw up the necessary papers of exclusive rights, and promised to get it to them. Lance helped me out with this. In the meantime, I used my contacts to pitch the story (I called it A Crocodile Day) to a relatively new television show called, “That’s Incredible”. It was a show devoted to recreating amazing feats of humans and animals. I was sure they would be interested, and they were. I spent a great deal of time going back and forth with the show, getting the story, along with all of my copies of the media attention in Australia to them for pre-production. It would turn out to be an ongoing, fluid project, as I discovered that the Queen of England was going to go to Australia and would be presenting Peta with a Gold Medal in September. “That’s Incredible” was going over to recreate the attack and then film Peta being presented with the gold medal. She would be the youngest recipient to ever receive it. It did eventually make it on air, I got a coveted silver and black "That's Incredible" jacket, and a videotape. I think I got paid a stipend too, merely a token of the work I had done to get it that far. Hey, that's Hollywood for you. Going through my appointment book for 1982 the memories of what was important to me is quite revealing as to what I deemed important enough to make a note of. One such note was on July 8th; Bob, Lances father, said I looked beautiful. Perhaps it was noteworthy for more than one reason, but the notation I have said, “First voiced positive anything”. In nearly three years of dating and then living with their son, this was the most personal thing he ever said to me. From that moment on, I had more confidence. It is so odd to me now to think of how little things had such a huge impact on me. In the coming few years the relationship I forged with his father would be very special. Lance and I finally decided to get serious and set a date for the wedding. We knocked about some different dates, one in May, but we finally, in September we decided upon June 19, 1983, at the family beach house. Time to begin planning it, even though it would be a simple and small affair. About this time, for some unknown reason, I got called on to do some print modeling. I now had a few weekend photo shoots on the books. It gave me the power to make a decision; deciding I'd had more than enough of my long, frizzy hair. I made an appointment with a top stylist in Beverly Hills, Alan Edwards. His shop was on Rodeo Drive, and though pricey, I decided I wanted to have good hairdo for the shoot. This is my all time favorite photo from the day. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Lance and I were having fun as an engaged couple, he even went along with me when I signed us up for doing the pilot of a television show, “Engaged to be Married”. The host was Bob Eubanks, who has a delightful sense of humor. The show was to be a relative of the wildly successful, “The Newly Wed Game”. It never did make it on air, but I learned some things about my future husband I had not known. Actually by now we were able to answer all of the questions like; In what drawer does your fiance' keep his underwear? The year wound up in a flurry of parties and weekend getaways; Palm Springs, San Diego, and Mexico. Our last year, being single, was going so quickly, but filled with loads of fun and love. Only six months until we would be man and wife. My son really liked Lance, in fact, when he would come to visit I noticed, besides Sully, he was the only man Mike hugged. To a single mother it is a stamp of approval unlike no other. I had made the right decision for sure. I was going to get to be a June bride, and I would revel in it. You are all invited. |
| Ahhh, it's the little blessings these days. Yesterday I was feeling great, and then Hubby called. Seriously, he was on his way home from what turned out to be a physical. He thought it was going to be a routine check-up...but nope, a complete physical. Of course it seems lately they always find something...now the doctor told him his heart has a "flutter". Maybe it was the nurse? Hah-hah. Apparently not.I've asked him to get a second opinion, but I just don't know, this doctor has been a family doctor/cardiologist. I just wonder if he, the doctor, isn't operating on some level of guilt. Anyway, Hubby has a month to get it back right...with medication and then...a less invasive procedure. This just sucks. Gone is the one beer he had with dinner...I mean come on...and the doctor wants to get him to a sleep clinic to see if he has apnea...which I know he doesn't because I lay here sometimes for hours watching him sleep and breathe.  I don't think the additional stress of the economy is doing him, or anyone else any good right now. We all need some collective laughs. Hmmm, I need to tap into my Humor Muse, Hortense. Dials the number. Ring. Ring. "Hello... Hortense?" "Yeah, it's me. Whaddya want?" Yawning. "Well crap, I want some funny stuff out of you." Gawd...what's crawled up her butt? "Oh right, and Jay Leno and David Letterman wants my jokes too. How much you gunna pay me?" "Oh man, all of these years and you think I owe you money to help me blog? What about that cruise to Alaska you took...huh?" "As I recall you bugged the crap outta me via cellphone then. You forget that huh?" I hear her filing her nails. "Jeez, you going to hold it against me forever?" She sucked something out of her teeth, totally disgusting me, but hey, I need something funny out of her. “Sweetheart, you know I love you, and if you need some help...well, I would give you...uh...my new crockpot!” Heh-heh, little does she know Hubby was not thrilled by my crockpot dinners...once we got water back. “Really...a NEW crockpot?” I could hear I may have struck a nerve with her. She hates cooking. “Yes, it’ll even do a whole roast chicken. You will love the smells that fill your house!” Yeah, anything to cover up the smell of her....well, I can’t really say here, but trust me, you don’t want know. Phewy!! “Okay then...you gunna deliver it?” I could almost hear the smacking of her lips. “Sure...when?” “I want the crockpot first, then I’ll give you something funny.” Gawd, this sure sounds like blackmail...but heck, anything is better than my complaining. “Okay, you have a deal, I’ll be right over with it.” Dang, I was hoping for something first, but I think she’s on to my methods, so I better get this over to her, maybe I can pry some stuff out while I’m there...and think I’ll take over a chicken too...have a great Friday...I’ll be back tomorrow for the exciting year, 1982. |
| It’s a constant battle (sometimes) to remain optimistic in the face of so much pessimism. It requires looking at things from a different perspective. I like to call it a healthy middle ground. For instance, the Sheila  side of me is a realist. The Nada  side of me is a tad more playful, or optimistic. I’m constantly in a battle to be one or the other...but most often I am both.To explain I’d have to show you the kind of conversation I have with myself to find this middle ground. : What, we have no water again?: Oh, no water... best I haul out the camping-at-home equipment. : Why don’t any of these formal gowns fit right?: I sure am building up muscles in unexpected places by hauling a hundred pounds of water around for two weeks!: Dang, another spider/bug bite!: Gawd, the poor insects must be really thirsty about now. And just think of poor Cesar... he got attacked by bees yesterday!: It’s so hot and dry here.: The oranges are juicy off of our trees this year.: I should have closed my shop.: You sold a piece of jewelry yesterday! See, you aren’t the only one trying to stimulate the economy!: I haven’t been keeping up with all the blogs I enjoy. Seems all I do is haul and boil water.: You have been looking for a house with running water. : I can barely breathe with all of the smoke in the air.: At least you still have a roof over your head!: Why does everyone I read seem like they are complaining?: It is my attitude, not theirs.  : My stupid printer starts printing whenever I come online.: Well now...you went over a year without a working computer, which is better?: H-m-m-m-m-m.: I just realized I'm in a really, really good mood. In fact I woke up this morning feeling grateful to be alive. How the heck can I have a whiney-butt blog when I have nothing to complain about? I apologize to anyone I have been "short" with over the past few weeks. I really let the water thing get to me, and then about a zillion other tiny things, until I pretty much exploded yesterday. I took everything personally, and I'm quite fortunate anyone is still talking to me. Gawd, I can be such a ....B*****, just ask Lance. I wanted to take a new blog pic, because I had all of my hair chopped off...I know, I didn't have that much to begin with! Then I remembered The Literary Penguin  had the right for November's blog picture. Gawd, what was I thinking? Oh well, some people never change out their photo, and I have forced ya'll to watch me grow up with the past 23 or so weeks of the series...and NO, we aren't finished with the series yet. Originally I think Scarlett and I had planned on quitting about 1978...well, we found we actually missed writing it...or maybe it was that we liked choosing the new tune each Saturday after we published the latest. Well, whatever the reason, we enjoy doing it...so we'll be keeping it up until we can't remember what happened that year....which I admit is much easier for me since I have kept appointment books every year since the late 70's. Lance is just loving it....NOT. He used to win disagreements by default, now I have written proof, often of the time and date of the event in question. Gotta love it!Have a wonderful Tuesday...I'm off to read and try to catch up on your lives. YIKES!  |
| I was complaining because I had no water...but now there are hundreds and hundreds of people whose homes have burnt down. It's just so heartbreaking. We got our water back on day fourteen; the day after my brother-in-law had to evacuate because of the Montecito fire. His home and businesses were spared, but many were not. Friday Lance and I went to have our hearing checked. I have excellent hearing. Lance...not so good. Apparently I have not been mumbling as I've been blamed told for awhile now! Friday evening we went to the San Fernando Valley for a celebratory dinner at a friend's home. The Santa Ana winds kicked up and by the time we left around 10 PM it was blowing pretty hard. By the time we got home and turned on the television around 11:15, the valley fire was underway. It's been burning since then, all over. It's been non-stop coverage on nearly every station. The wind has just kicked up again...I see the smoke on the other side of our valley mountains...but so far we are spared. It amazing, yesterday they asked for people to conserve water, as we haven't had any substantial rain for a very long time. I don't have much to offer in the way of a blog today, but I did want to let ya'll know we do have running water here now, and we haven't been directly affected by the fires. Hope you all have a nice Sunday!  |
| “Endless Love” -Part 24 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Many thanks to vivacious for the great header!1981-Endless Love Sung by Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iJU0sYzpTQ The meeting I had with Susie and her boss, Faith, and her husband Don, on December 20th was quite interesting. They approached me with a desire to make a feature film from my (still unpublished) book! They had begun their own production company and were going to make their first project mine. Needless to say, I was flattered and promised to think about it over the holidays. Lance and I spent many of our weekends at the family beach-house, up north of Los Angeles, in Carpinteria. It was a wonderful place to get away, where I enjoyed the closeness of his family. Being lulled to sleep by the sound of waves crashing along the beach, smelling the salt air through the open window was all one needed to sleep well. The days were idyllic, unlike any I had ever experienced, and my love for Lance only deepened. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I was in touch with Susie and Don during the month of January. Faith still held her job at CBS, and Don was the writer in the family, so I worked with him. After Valentine’s Day, spent in San Francisco, I had worked out a counter-offer to Londonderry (the name of their production company), so I called them and gave them my terms, as Lance had helped me to figure out. On March 12, I had a meeting at 8 p.m. with all of them. I went into the meeting with high hopes, and I was not disappointed. They agreed to the terms (money) for the option of my book for a year (with an option to renew after a year) as well as being a co-writer with Don for the script. A week later I met with Don and we began to outline the screenplay. I had notified my agent of what was going on, in hopes he might be able to use this knowledge to advance the sale of the book. Meanwhile, Susie and I had become good friends, and we had something else cooking, an idea for a business of our own. A germ of an idea had come to us for a show-biz related niche we could fill. Meanwhile I was meeting with Don and working hard to get the film laid out, scene by scene. The screenwriting classes I had taken at Loyola Marymount were beginning to pay off, as I saw a movie beginning to take shape. In May I discovered I had a suspicious PAP test, and further testing and doctor’s consultation resulted in being given an option of having a part of my uterus carved out, reserving the possibility of a future pregnancy, or having a hysterectomy. I scheduled the lesser procedure to be done at the City of Hope Cancer Center, reserving the possibility of a future pregnancy. I was only 32, and considering the fact I may well at some point get married and want to have a child. The results were good, and the doctor assured me I should be able to get pregnant, in the future. Lance was extremely supportive about this, as well as all of the other endeavors I was involved in. Susie and I were keeping quite busy in our own right; on July 1, 1981 we moved our business into our own offices. We started a company called, Inside Info, a personalized research and consultancy service. It was a three-room office suite in a charming building on Sunset Blvd., with a courtyard and more show-biz offices. We had already begun taking on clients, but now we had an established, legitimate business address. (The cover of our first brochure, showing our logo.) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** We were not a “placement agency” but we provided something we both realized there was a true need for in Hollywood...information to help the new person who came to Hollywood to break into show business. There was no other business providing what we were; information from our consultants, real people Susie and I knew from our own real lives. We helped people to focus on what it is they really wanted from the entertainment business. Most people were pretty vague, “I think I want to be a producer, or maybe act.” That is where we could help them figure it out. We would schedule a time they could “shadow” a person who was actually working in the field they wanted to get into. You know how some jobs sound glamorous, until you take it and find out it doesn’t really entail what you thought it did? We gave them an up-close-and-personal look at the inner workings of real jobs, followed with counseling and follow-ups. Depending on their choice of our services, we could do this in numerous fields, providing invaluable insider information. On August 6, 1981 our first advertisement came out in Variety, the industry’s most read daily newspaper. We had arrived. In four days I celebrated turning 33. Life was incredibly good. As exciting as all of this was, the first of Lance’s and my couple friends were getting married on August 29th. It was a formal event at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and while I was thrilled for them, I could only wonder if Lance and I would have an endless love. Lois had gone on with Children of the Night, and I was on the Board of Directors...the focus had changed to children, and I moved along in my own personal life. I was busier than ever, and really enjoying it. I hired one of the gals who had come in for a consult, she was a researcher and I had an idea for a television show, but needed in depth research of newspaper files, etc.. It was called, “Young Heroes”, the story of children who had done heroic acts. I thought each week’s episode could feature a different case. In November Lance became a Judge for small claims court in Santa Barbara. It was a rotating thing, but I knew he loved doing it. I went with his mother to watch him court one day. I will never forget the sobering sight of him dressed in the long black robe, and doing a remarkably fair job of distinguishing the truth and being fair. Both his mother and I were so proud of him. By Thanksgiving with his family (at the beach-house) Lance and I decided we’d like to throw a “formal” Christmas party, at the beach-house. His parents said it was fine, so the planning began. It would be on December 19th, for 18 of our best friends. We got a good caterer, a harpist, rented the tables and chairs, had invitations printed and began to search for the perfect gown. We had enough bedrooms there for us, as well as three other couples, to stay at the beach-house; the other five couples would be given rooms to stay at one of the family motels in Santa Barbara. Everyone was to come back to the beach-house for an informal brunch on Sunday before heading back to Los Angeles. I felt Lance might propose to me that night, so it was with great anticipation I had planned it to be a very special evening. Lance and I during the dinner... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Susie and I snuck off to the library to have a quick discussion about business. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Two couples flanked me in the living room. The lady to my left and the gentleman on my right were the couple who married in the past August. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** It was, by all accounts a wonderful weekend. No, Lance did not propose at the party. Once back in Los Angeles, we wrapped up our business, just waiting for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, while lying in bed, Lance turned on his side and said, “Will you marry me?” “Yes, I will.” Fade to black on 1981. |
| the tough go.....shopping. Hey, I see the economy needs my help... I'm there, spending the few spare dollars I managed to secure. So, what did I buy? A crockpot. Gawd, how glam! I really did. It's quite difficult to eat take-in foods much longer than a week. We've picked up: 1. Pizza 2. Chinese 3. Meatloaf 4. Hawaiian 5. Roast chicken That's when I'd had my fill, so after a night of frozen waffles, bologna sammy's, and Mexican I made pasta. I boiled water and finally emptied out the dishwasher on Sunday, got the dishes washed and put away. Maybe now you can understand my overwhelming excitement of a crockpot...on sale too! But lest you think I'm totally off my rocker, I have managed to pamper myself some. I saw JP last week, got a tri-color pixie haircut, and a much deserved long shampoo. I also had a manicure and pedicure. The savings on our water bill is surely worth it. It's the little things,Yesterday, while in my shopping mode, I bought a red dress. Nothing says cheery like a red cocktail dress, or turquoise hooded sweater, or a deep emerald green jogging suit. I'd hit the beginning of a sale, so we'll see how the economy rebounds now.  Seriously, I haven't mentioned it, but last summer we paid off our holiday cruise, prior to the economy taking a nosedive. So, despite the doom and gloom, we are going ahead with our Hawaiian Cruise. This year, this particular cruiseline made some interesting changes; a choice of open seating whenever you like, with whomever you like, and they have ratcheted down the wardrobe requirements. Instead of: Formal, Informal and Elegant Casual, they dropped the Informal catagory. Whew...it was always a difficult one. Since they have done this, I've also become more relaxed about clothing. I will be packing less (less fits also), and more casually. At this moment I think I may only take one long gown. And, it's one I have never worn, and bought for under $25. Yes, I said under twenty-five dollars! My gawd, what is happening to me? It's called priorities. Or in my case, disgust. Yeah, the store I usually bought my gowns from really screwed up big time last year. One of the gown I bought I took last year fit so horribly I wouldn't wear it. A wasted bit of fabric, time and money. I vowed not to go there and suffer the heartbreak when you put on a gown that was poorly altered. Though I am still without running water, I have a pretty good routine down. Of course Hubby has gone to LA for the night, where he will get a long, hot shower in the morning. That means I get a 50% break in carry duties. YIPEE!!!!Last night was the most incredible sunset, and when I looked in the other direction the almost full moon was up. I ran outside to shoot some pics. Here, are two of them, hope you enjoy them! (Neither have been retouched or color enhanced.) ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** It is the moments like these which make me forget about the water problems for awhile. I think Hubby is going to make an offer on a house we saw. So, like a few years back, we may set off for Hawaii over the holidays while in escrow. Doomed to repeat history? |
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