
I never get headaches but right now I have a headache the size of Toledo. I think I must be about to die, or maybe tomorrow will be the end of the world. In any case, you heard it here first.
Not a quarter, not a whole... just somewhere in between.
Our neighbor Tomi's mother died a few days ago and Annie and I talked about it as we prepared food to bring to her.
When I was a teenager I wanted to look like someone other than myself. I hated the space between my two front teeth and begged my parents to get me a retainer to close it up. And although they loved that gap, they understood the fragility of an adolescent girl and gave in.
“Give up the feeling of responsibility, let go your hold, resign the care of your destiny to higher powers, be genuinely indifferent as to what becomes of it all and you will find not only that you gain a perfect inward relief, but often also, in addition, the particular goods you sincerely thought you were renouncing.”
One night while taking tickets at the Greek Theatre, I noticed a teenage co-worker having an argument (although she appeared to be the only one arguing,) with a man behind the turnstile. I went over to see if I could lend a hand and asked what the matter was. The exasperated teen was trying to get rid of the man who wanted to see Chaka Kahn but didn’t have a ticket to the sold out show. I looked at the little chap with flaming died red hair, pale skin and gentle eyes, and saw that it was Johnny Rotten from the Sex Pistols. I was a sucker for the Pistols and Johnny had the face of an angel, so I took his hand and brought him to a vacant seat in the front row.
Annie: "Mommy, Grandma told me she actually met Tony Curtis when he used to be a waiter!"
I have a friend whose emails I keep, as well as the ones I send to him, in a separate file to remind me of the journey I've been on. Since I still don't know how to make new "Mailboxes," on my computer, I've always kept these emails in the folder marked "Junk."
When I was a teenager in Los Angeles I had a summer job at the Greek Theatre in Griffith Park. My girlfriends Lisa and Justine were right beside me as we took tickets, ushered in patrons, and worked the backstage and VIP doors. Every shift included drama: run-ins with drunken customers, entanglements between a staff of sexed-up boys and lovelorn girls, even an ass-groping celebrity or two.
17 years ago tonight David and I were married at the Boathouse in Central Park. It was freezing cold outside but inside there was an abundance of love and warmth. 17 years later we stand in a place we would not have imagined 17 years ago, but in a way we stand in a better place. We’ve held each other's hands through grief, laughed one million times, and shared that feeling of an almost painful love while watching our baby sleep.
Annie sits in my lap, she presses her face against mine and I whisper to her, "You are so smart and so beautiful and I love how kind you are to babies and animals. You have a big heart and..."
