These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
It was an almost perfect mix of getting myself pampered and getting my geek on in Colonial Williamsburg.
DAY ONE. I saw a performance, Loyalty or Liberty, on the site of the first theater in North America! The play was based on newspaper editorials of the time. The theme was about how conflicted married couples were about the prospect of war. Generally speaking, wives tended to be more loyal to the crown, but not out of passion for the king. Instead, they worry that liberty won't be worth the bloodshed and deprivation of war.
Then I went to a lecture about Patrick Henry. Enough education and geek, thank you. Time for a little retail. Got a sterling silver ring, based on an original 17th century design, and a bird bottle charm. Back in ye olde days, when a wide mouth earthenware bottle was cracked and no longer useful for carrying water, it was were mounted outside to attract birds, who then controlled the insects. I'm going to wear this sweet little charm on a silver chain around my neck.
Then I swam laps, soaked in the jacuzzi and ended the day with a massage and a pedi. Ah ....
DAY TWO. I began the day with a seminar called "Now What?" which addressed the dilemma of what to do with slaves abandoned by owners no longer able to care for them. It was a little too intense for some of the smaller children in the audience, but I have to give Williamsburg credit for taking such a frank look at slavery. It's impossible not to think about it, when you listen to our forefathers talk about the tyranny of the British, how all they wanted was equity and freedom, and yet they owned other people. It's a portion of our history that we have to own up to and examine.
Then I walked, and walked and walked. All through the village, up and down some of the less traveled paths. I enjoyed the people watching and kept track of the children's names called by agitated parents. I heard Hayden and Reardon and Bryce and Amaya and Jess. I guess there's no such thing as a Sally or a Bobby anymore.
I missed my mom a lot. I saw a booklet circa the 18th century on gardening that I thought she would get a kick out of. It occurred to me that she was the audience for most of my vacation tales. This left me feeling melancholy.
Toured one of the most impressive buildings in the Colonial Village -- the Peyton Randolph House. The tour guide annoyed me because she was a little too theatrical, a little too rigid about her prepared text and not too willing to answer questions. But that could be because she is new to this guide business. She confided that until recently she was working in the Lumber Office, where she took tickets and gave directions.
Then it was off to the spa for my biggest, best day of pampering. It began with swimming and the jacuzzi. Then I had the 18th Century Experience, described like this: "Begin with a warm and soothing aromatic foot bath, followed by a
fragrant orange and ginger body scrub to soften and rejuvenate the skin.
Historically, orange and ginger were used in the colonial apothecary
for a variety of remedies." My skin felt soooooo smooth!
All the while I had an especially stupid song from Valley of the Dolls running through my head. God only knows why. I crack myself up sometimes.
Lots of strange dreams that night. About my niece, and my mother, and my cat Reynaldo (maybe because I'm not used to not being disturbed by his nocturnal escapades). Woke up with a bright pink pillowcase. For some reason the gums around one of my crowns was irritated and bleeding. Maybe that's why my mind was racing as I slept. It just so happens there was a convention of oral and maxillofacial surgeons onsite at the Williamsburg Lodge while I was there, so I gues if something went really wrong, I'd have been in good hands.
DAY THREE. Started out rather low on energy. Maybe that's because of the spa treatments I was looking forward to: a lip wax and blackhead extractions don't leave a girl feeling especially pampered or sexy! So I began the day with retail therapy in the charming Merchant's Square shopping district.
I got myself a cardigan on sale at Talbot's and, best of all, found a wonderful little used bookstore called Mermaid. I almost bought myself a 1960 edition of Why England Slept, a book written by John F. Kennedy in the 1940s, but the price was too steep. Instead I got postcards from the 40s and 50s for my cousin Rose (Tampa) and Aunt Jo (Daytona Beach), and finished it off with a wonderful lunch at the Blue Talon Bistro (pot roast sandwich).
Got back to my room and checked the news (Cubs took two of their first three from the Pirates). That's when I learned that Roger Ebert died. Somehow there seemed only one appropriate response -- I went to the movies. I saw Hyde Park on Hudson in a theater with a tiny, 35-seat screening room. I thought Bill Murray, of all people, did a wonderful job as FDR in an otherwise rather aimless movie.
DAY FOUR. Travel day! I was eager to get home because I missed my cat, Joey. He's older and I worry about him. I think the thing I enjoyed most this trip was the artwork. I have a new appreciation for the primitive Early American style. Here are the four wall hangings that decorated the hall leading to my room. I found them enchanting.
I'm so happy to leave March behind, and I'm going to celebrate by posting nothing but good news.
1) Happy Birthday, Reynaldo. He was born just about now in 2004. This makes him 9. Suddenly I don't mind that he still races around, sings and torments me on a daily basis. Considering his age, I guess this is a good thing. 2) Michelle Pfieffer. My best friend spent last week on the road with his oldest daughter, showing
her colleges in the New York/Philadelphia area. I got a few emails/texts from him, but last night I could tell that he was truly excited. He and his daughter were celebrating Easter at a tony New York restaurant and Michelle and her family were at the next table. I was happy that he was happy, and excited that he got to see her husband, David E. Kelley, who wrote Ally MacBeal and Boston Legal.
3) Baseball! My Cubs play the Pirates in just a few hours.
4) Vacation, all I ever wanted! I leave for the airport in just over an hour.
I got through today. It's been hard. But I got through.
I thought a lot about my mother, who was celebrating her last Easter a year ago at this time.
I thought a lot about my uncle, who is also gone, but who gave me my most enduring Easter memory.
I was 6 and he was 21. He had just purchased his first NEW car, a Mustang convertible not unlike this one. He looooved that car, and his enthusiasm was so infectious that I loved it, too. It was unseasonably warm that Easter and he drove up to my grandmother's house with the top down and announced that our gifts were hidden somewhere in the car. I found mine -- a book -- under the floormat (front seat, passenger side). The leaves were green, the sky was clear, the car was blue and his smile was wide. My world was good. A few months later he was drafted and within a year he was shipped off to Vietnam. But at that moment, Easter Sunday 1964, my world was good.
And, of course, I thought a lot about Christ and how much I depend on Him. Knowing that I am the child of a God who loves me more when I stumble makes me work harder to do better. And His love gives me tremendous comfort.
The past month has been hard. The past 24 hours have been hard. But I have much in life to be grateful for -- including the readers who send good vibes my way.* I began this blog as an online journal, a way to create an accurate snapshot of my life I could look back on. I had no idea it would bring me in contact with people who would enrich my life soooo much.
Thank you.
*Yes, Vivian, even though I can't comment on your blog, I feel your prayerful support.
1: Who is your favorite Musical Artist from when you were a teenager? Always and forever, Sir Paul. In those days, he was fronting Wings.
2: Who is your favorite game show host? While sitting in my doctor's waiting room, I saw Wayne Brady hosting Let's Make a Deal and he was quite charming.
3: Who is your Favorite Blog hosting service? Blogger, though I'm not really that emotionally attached
4: If you could meet anyone again from your childhood, who would it be? Either my uncle or my favorite grandpa. They're both gone now, but they provided the brightest moments of my girlhood.
5: Where did you want to live when you were growing up? Chicago or New York. Maybe London. I knew early on that I was a City Mouse.
6: What is the most interesting piece of Trivia that you know? Max is currently the most popular pet name for both male dogs and cats.
7: If you could live in any point of history when would it be and why? Either the 1860s or the 1960s. They were such exciting, turbulent times in American history.
8: What is the most interesting job you have ever had? Copywriter for a company that marketed professional haircare products to salons. It was fun.
9. Please share one middle school memory. It can be good, bad, ugly, funny. Pictures or words, I don't care, just share. Walking with my oldest friend to the public library over the summer. It was an early taste of freedom, of being able to wander around town without parental supervision. 10. What's your favorite Beatles song? It changes. Right now, "You're Gonna Lose that Girl" from Help! I love the harmonies, and that it's rather subversive. I mean, the guy is giving his friends a heads-up that he's going after the girl. An unusual topic for a song.
11. If I asked you to describe your most comfortable outfit, what would it be? I don't know that it qualifies as an outfit, but my nightwear is the most comfortable clothing I own. 12. Would you rather host a party or be a guest? Guest! You can't sneak away when you're the host. 13. Do you think we will move completely from traditional books to digital ones, and if we do, are you OK with that? Yes, I do, and no, I'm not. I like holding a book, and I enjoy the romance of used books, wondering who had them before me. That experience will be lost when we're all on e-readers.
14. Do you learn best by reading, listening or experiencing? Probably listening 15.
If you are (or when you were) single, what is the kiss of death for you
concerning the opposite sex? (That is, what is one trait or behavior or
habit or anything at all that immediately turns you off from
considering that person a potential match for you?) I really hate kissing a smoker.
16. Snacks. Salty or sweet? Yes, please. I love them both. 17.
Look around you in a four foot radius. What object is around you that
you didn't realize was there or forgot was there? How long has it been
there? The fundraising newsletter from a local animal shelter. I keep meaning to order my friends t-shirts for birthdays and Christmas, but I haven't gotten around to it ... yet. And it's been more than a week. (A window into why my place is always such a mess.)
18. What is your favorite Tom Cruise movie? He impressed me in Rock of Ages. I didn't expect him to get that raunchy, or to lose himself in the role to that degree. 19. You
buy a bottle of shampoo and discover that you don't like what it does
to your hair at all. What do you do with that full bottle? Keep it around for stain removal. Shampoo is an effective pretreat for organic stains like food or blood. (Learned that from the guys in the lab when I worked for the company mentioned in #8.)
20. Your favorite spring comfort food? (Last week it was beverage.) Chicken or tuna salad, depending on my mood. That becomes my favorite lunch to brown bag as the weather outside goes from colder to warmer.
I could view today as the fitting coda to a week that found me feeling unhappy. That's better than declaring it a shitty way to begin my vacation!
Got up this morning feeling fine. It was the first Saturday morning in ages that was both warm, sunny and dry. I figured I'd go to my favorite coffee shop for breakfast, run a few errands, and then spring clean. After all, I leave for my trip to Colonial Williamsburg on Monday morning and wouldn't it be nice to leave with a less-cluttered condo on my conscience?
In the sunshine, my eyes REALLY bothered me. Watery and painful. As I dined, I found I had an easy time reading with my eyes lowered, but looking up hurt. Back out in the sunshine HURT!
I walked the few blocks to Walgreen's and their Take Care Clinic, my hands visoring my aching eyes each step of the way. I'm surprised by how powerful and independent those eye muscles are. I really had a hard time making my eyes do anything!
The nurse practitioner at Walgreen's was very popular today. Seems strep throat is going around. That is not at all what I have. I have allergic conjunctivitis. I thought that's what it was! Friday afternoon in our clown-car office, my eyes began stinging at about the same moment one of my coworkers reached for her inhaler! Our office building is one of the nation's tallest with more than 80 floors, and lately there's been a lot of remodeling going on. That means we're breathing a lot of dusty recycled air these days. And what irritated her lungs was irritating my sensitive eyes.
Anyway, most of my day was spent in the Walgreen's waiting area. Then I got my two prescriptions. The doc-in-the-box warned me that they were expensive. I told her I didn't care. And, at that moment, I didn't. I hurt, and I wanted to get the hurting to stop before I board my plane Monday morning! Plus Williamsburg isn't going to be any fun if I can't see it!
I left with a steroid nasal spray and NSAID eye drops. They cost me $10. When I saw that, without my insurance, they would have cost me more than $225, I suddenly did care and was grateful that I have coverage.
I'm feeling better now, though I'm indoors and it's well after sunset. I'm hopeful that the worst is behind me, painwise, and I'll feel better tomorrow for Easter.
Last night I met my former coworker, Tom, for drinks and chicken tenders at Infield's, a bar in the basement of the State Street Macy's store that none of our friends go to. I chose it because I wanted us to be able to speak freely ... and because I'm charmed by the sports motif and I can't wait for baseball to start.
Anyway, I was struck anew by how positive Tom can be, how voluble and very sweet. Even though he's currently unemployed, he is freelancing and so he and his new fiancee are moving full speed ahead with their wedding plans. She's over 30 and, as a pediatric intensive care nurse, is acutely sensitive to how quickly the odds of a difficult pregnancy become over 35. So they hope to be wed this fall.
Good for them. Good for him. Seeing him was a bright point in an otherwise low-energy week.
I've been feeling pretty blue lately and last night I was reminded to count my blessings.
I went to the theater (Priscilla, Queen of the Desert) with my friend, Barb. Beforehand we had a very nice dinner at a new restaurant -- at least new to us -- called Tamarind. And yet my mood remained bleak. I was fixating on how worried I am about my job, I felt superfat, I am disturbed about the issues with my sisters. I just couldn't shake the blues. Could. Not. Shake. Them.
Got off the train near my home at 11:00 PM. There were four of us, altogether, getting off at this stop. None of us knew one another. But soon we were operating as one.
There was a man of about 35, curled around the lamp post, on his side in a fetal position. There was an obviously bleeding cut on his head, above his eye. He smelled strongly of booze.
I kept walking but I had a plan. I knew my cell was dead -- I received a text from my oldest friend while riding the train and my phone did that telltale beep. But I knew I'd be in my living room within minutes and would alert the police to his dilemma.
But I heard a lot of conversation behind me. The other three had circled the man, trying to help him up. "Are you OK?" "Is there anyone you want us to call?" "Do you know where you are?"
I stopped to watch. If the three of them had it covered, I wouldn't bother the police. But I wasn't confident they did. The man still sounded drunk, or at the very least woozy, and kept refusing their help. He was on his feet, but now he was swaying a bit.
I headed on over and poked my nose in. I pointed out that I couldn't call the police myself but that one of them should because he was weaving and might end up falling onto the tracks. He didn't hear me, even though I in no way lowered my voice.
The other woman in our sober quartet of Samaritans touched my arm and nodded. "You're right." Then she turned to the men and said, "Let's get him down the stairs." She was indicating the other end of the platform, opposite from where I needed to go, chosen because it was so well lit and so far away from the tracks and danger.
I was satisfied that they had it under control and walked down my opposite set of stairs to my home.
Had this poor man been beaten, robbed and left on the still-icy platform? Did he get that cut on his face when he fell, or did someone punch him? How long had he been laying there? He looked so vulnerable, wrapped around that street lamp.
I am lucky. I am healthy and solvent and live in a town where all of us considered the best way to help. That's a lot, really. It's important to remember my blessings.
I just found a blog that was a rich source of facts and stats about that which brings us together.
1) America is home to approximately 31,000,000 bloggers
2) More men than women blog. It's a 60/40 split.
3) Wordpress and Blogger are the two most popular platforms. 4) Caucasians represent the largest (48%) single blogging ethnicity. 5) It's hard to make a blog pay. More than 80% of bloggers will never make more than $100 from their blog.
6) But 2% earn $150,000/year blogging from exotic locations. 7) More people blog than post. Wordpress estimates that there are 500,000 posts/day but only 400,000 comments.
8) 329,000,000 people view at least one blog each day. 9) 60% of all businesses and corporations have a company blog. 10) 65% of those business haven't updated that company blog in more than a year. 11) Most blogs (66%) are in English. 12) Only 1% of posts are published in Swedish. 13) Successful bloggers -- as defined by those who get the most hits -- explain their content through each post's headline.
It's always fun to watch Hollywood look at itself. And no movie about movies is more fun than 1967's Valley of the Dolls.
It's both cheap and expensive. It's high camp that takes itself very,
very seriously. And it's a colorful time capsule of the swinging 60's
most ostentatious hair, makeup and wardrobe.
The clothes were done by Travilla. He was one of Marilyn Monroe's favorite designers, having dressed her in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Bus Stop and, most famously, The Seven Year Itch. Yes, he was responsible for that white dress, the one that blows up when Marilyn stands on the subway grate.
It's
hard to believe now, but back in the mid-1960s, Valley of the Dolls was
a high-profile, highly anticipated movie with a huge budget. So
Travilla went into it knowing that money was no object. He would run
into many, many problems working on this massive, messy movie, but
finances were not among them.
A savvy veteran, Travilla understood his task -- to use his skills for character exposition. He once said of Valley of the Dolls, "... the very nature of the women is projected by that which they wear."
The first of the four major characters he dressed was Anne Welles, played by Barbara Parkins.
He described Anne as a "shy, clean-cut American girl from New England
... I designed her clothes honestly, simply and attractively in the best
of taste." In the 1960s, that woman, and those
clothes, were exemplified by a certain First Lady. It's easy to see how
Jackie influenced Anne's earlystyle.
Once
Anne's character becomes a glamorous city girl -- and improbably, a
high-fashion model -- her style changes radically. Her hair, clothes and
makeup are all very loud in the movies fabulous fashion montage.
She's the Gillian Girl, the face of a cosmetics line and the idol of
millions, but naturally that is not enough for
her. She wants love and hot sex, as personified by (of all people) Paul
Burke. (The key to enjoying Valley of the Dolls is to just let it
wash over you, don't ask questions.) So she retires to domestic
(albeit shockingly unwedded) bliss and her clothes get a bit more
subdued, typified by pastels and sensible heels. But she's now living a jetset lifestyle -- New York to Malibu
and back again -- and it shows in her obviously expensive wardrobe, complete with de rigueur mink.
Then we have Jennifer North, as played by Sharon Tate.
She was by far Travilla's favorite. He was effusive in his praise,
describing her as "divine" and likening her to Monroe. "She has the same defenseless, childlike quality
that Marilyn had."
Unfortunately,
he had less to do because her character's arc was so narrow. Jennifer
begins as a showgirl and ends up in softcore European porn movies (aka "art films").
Travilla described Jennifer as "an ample, no-talent, stunning girl whose
only asset is the display of her body ... In one scene, we practically
had to sew her into her gown."
The first time we see Jennifer, she's in the chorus of a Broadway show. She descends a staircase wearing this awe-inspiring blue feathered creation and worries aloud that she may be "too top heavy." This comment, of course, makes her the topic of vulgar jokes. Jennifer is good-hearted, vulnerable and completely tragic -- a la Monroe and Mansfield.
Then she moves to Hollywood. Her clothes are beautiful but, just as Travilla intended, the style is still too flashy, still too revealing.
Next up: the redoubtable Helen Lawson. Travilla sums up the villain of the piece as personally "foul-mouthed and ruthless, completely without taste or finesse … She comes on like gangbusters -- like a scream." The first time we see Helen, as played by Susan Hayward, she's in her Broadway dressing room, swearing and smoking and terrorizing everyone who crosses her path while wearing a manish, tailored, "screaming red" suit. (I know this shot looks orangey but trust me, it's red in the film.)
Yet when the play opens, and we see Helen onstage (performing a ridiculous song surrounded by floating plastic pop-art), she's transformed into musical theater royalty. When Travilla gives her a gown in angelic white, he softens her onstage persona and helps us see why her loyal public still clamors to see every "Helen Lawson show."
Legend has it Travilla thought this gown didn't fall quite right. All the outfits worn by Susan Hayward's Helen Lawson were originally designed for Judy Garland. Judy's Valley of the Dolls costume tests still exist, as do stills of her wearing the "screaming red" suit as she shot Helen's first scene. Garland was fired and Hayward brought in and there wasn't time to create all-new clothes. Instead they had to be hastily altered. Susan was taller and curvier than the short and by now quite gaunt Judy. If Hayward wore the oversized shoulder pads installed to make the tiny Garland look more formidable, she felt she looked like a linebacker. When Travilla removed them, he felt he ruined the silhouette. But the clock was ticking. Neither Travilla nor Hayward were completely pleased with what Helen wore.
Except for The Suit. Garland walked off with it. Some say the studio gave it to her, to console a legendary star who had just been unceremoniously dumped. Others say she stole it out of spite, exacting a price from the producers who humiliated her. At any rate, The Suit had to be recreated from scratch for Susan Hayward.
Colorfully, intricately beaded, it was Travilla's favorite piece from Valley of the Dolls. Therefore it stands to reason to that he would want his favorite actress photographed wearing it. Here's Sharon Tate, playfully posing in the recreated costume.
Here's how Helen Lawson looked in the second version of The Suit, the one made for expressly for her and that she wore as it appeared in the final film. And on the right is Garland wearing the original onstage, as she continued to do until her death two years later. Sharon has a mock turtle under the jacket, as opposed to the
scarves worn by both Helens -- Hayward because the green scarf has to go
from accessory to headwear in the famous catfight scene and Garland,
presumably, out of personal preference.
Finally there's my favorite, Neely O'Hara, as played by Patty Duke. Travilla describes Neely as his "ingenue ... perfectly natural and full of zip." A little girl with oversized talent and showbiz in her blood, Neely was obviously based on Garland (which naturally made the first few days of filming with Judy herself as Helen more than a little awkward). At the beginning of the movie, when Neely was scrapping and belting her way to the top, she dressed casually and simply.Young Neely's penchant for red may have been Travilla's fashion foreshadowing, letting us know that soon this talented little girl would be following in Helen Lawson's screaming-red-suited, "don't fuck with me" footsteps.
After a rather lurid stay in rehab, Neely returns to Broadway. Here our little egomaniac is, posing in front of her own poster. Again, Travilla's costume immediately conveys that our talented little sprite is no longer wholesome and now perhaps even dangerous. (Note that, like the real-life Garland in Summer Stock and A Star Is Born, Travilla often has Neely flashing leg.)
Patty Duke-as-Neely personifies everything that's hypnotic about Valley of the Dolls. She's over-the-top yet compulsively watchable. And she has all the great wardrobe malfunctions. There's a terrific scene where she crosses her legs with
great flourish and the bow from the toe of her pump goes flying out of
the shot. How can you not adore such a movie? And then there's this ...
Watch Neely's necklaces. These chains work overtime. At about 1:57, they literally lasso Patty Duke's breasts. And this is what I love about Valley of the Dolls. On the one hand, it's fastidiously designed couture. On the other hand, it's trashy dimestore necklaces that just won't behave.
Travilla won an Oscar for the Erroll Flynn swashbuckler, The Adventures of Don Juan, and an Emmy for dressing Linda Gray and Victoria Principal on Dallas. He may have preferred to be remembered for that, and for his work with Marilyn. But when I have the blues, I slip in my VOD DVD and find myself delighted anew by the camp classic and his contribution to it.
CHECK OUT OTHER FASHION IN FILM BLOGATHON ENTRIES.
On Tuesday I paid the junk removal company $225 for hauling away 1/3 of a dumpster worth of stuff from my mother's supposedly empty house. I also looked through the before/after photos they provided and saw what they took away -- four bedrooms' worth of window coverings, a table lamp, a bedframe, three American flags, window screens, furnace filters, lots of debris that looked slats of wood … and, most gallingly, a kiddie pool that was stuffed into my mother's living room coat closet.
My kid sister's husband and two of his friends from work supposedly emptied out the house in January. We -- "the estate" -- paid them $625 for a job they simply didn't complete. That's why the kiddie pool bugs me: someone shoved it into the front closet.
Two weeks ago, when I let my sister know that the mortgage company wanted these last items removed and then they would give us the deed in lieu of foreclosure we need to be released from all liability for my mother's home. I thought this was good news.
She was furious! She remains furious. I think it's because she and her husband knew the job wasn't finished and she's defensive. But I have never, not once, blamed them. I have always presented this as positive because that's how I feel.
I cannot charge "the estate" for finishing the job -- thereby splitting the cost three ways -- because then my older sister would bitch about being billed twice for the same thing. She would have a point, of course, but then I would be in EVEN MORE TROUBLE, and I hate putting my sensitive young nephew in the middle of this family squabble.
And oh yes, he is. Today is Wednesday. Easter is Sunday. I'm clearly not invited to spend the day with them. So I'll send him his basket. This is his first Easter without Grandma and, even though he is 13, this will be a melancholy day for him and I want him to feel loved.
I, however, will just continue popping Xanax until this week is over. Sunday I will celebrate Easter and Monday I live for vacation.