Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Teenage Dream (2010) Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) Much of the video for this week's song takes place in a convertible and on the beach. How's the weather where you are? Would you be comfortable riding around with the top down today? Yes. The mercury will likely top 80º sunny degrees today.

2) This video was filmed all around Katy Perry's hometown of Santa Barbara. Amtrak runs through Santa Barbara via The Pacific Surfliner. Tell us about a memorable train trip. Back in 2009, I took my then 9-year-old nephew to Springfield to see the Lincoln sites. I was touched by how excited and serious he was about our trip, which was not only his first time on Amtrak, it was his first vacation without his parents. He carefully read his pre-printed ticket and saw that ID might be required, and then reassured me not to worry, because he had his library card. I'm riding the rails again soon, this time to see his new college dorm room. Gulp!

3) Katy sings that her boyfriend thinks she's funny, even when she gets the punchline wrong. Do you think you're a better joke-teller or audience? I can usually be counted on to get a laugh.

4) Her "teenage dream" lover is shown working out with a heavy bag. When is the last time you visited a gym? I went twice last week. It felt good.

According to People mag, this week she's back to green

5) Katy changes her hair a lot. She's gone from long black hair to cropped blonde hair with stops at red, green and purple. Today, are you having a good hair day? Not at this moment. I haven't showered yet.

6) Katy thinks dimples are "irresistible" and can't help poking a finger when a dimpled friend smiles. Do you have dimples? Yes. And I would hate having Katy poke around in them!

7) Two of Katy's fragrances (Meow and Purr) are sold in cat-shaped bottles. Are you wearing a scent as you answer these questions? Not at this moment. I haven't showered yet.

8)  Katy's favorite dessert is ice cream (specifically Cold Stone Creamery's Birthday Cake Remix). What's the last dessert you ate? I had ice cream and graham crackers last night, after dinner.

9) Random question: How often do you change your bedsheets? I launder them every week. Sometimes, if I'm especially lazy, I put the clean ones back on my bed instead of getting a new set out of the cabinet.

A message from my mom

September 14 was payday. It's from this first paycheck of the month that I make charitable contributions. One check always goes to a local animal shelter that's perpetually struggling. Then I send 3 more to charities that rotate. I keep a big envelope filled with solicitations I receive and then make my selections.

For some reason, I just had to write the checks Friday morning. Even though I was running late for work. One was to Goodwill, because I support their mission.

One was to the humane society where my mother adopted her favorite cat, Ethel. The other was the World Wildlife Fund. My mom was on a fixed income, but whenever she found herself even a little ahead, she sent a check to WWF. It worried her that her as-yet unborn greatgrandchildren would never see an elephant, live, the way she enjoyed seeing them with us and her grandchildren at the zoo.

I logged on to Facebook and as I scrolled down through the "Your Memories" feature, I saw that September 14 is the sixth anniversary of my mother's death. For some reason, I recalled it as later in the month. But no, it's September 14.

I handled it, Mommy.

I admit it: I'm hooked

This morning, at about 7:45, my Infinity services all went out. Cable TV, internet and phone. I was desolate.

I still had my shower radio and my cellphone to keep me company as I dressed for work. And we we're only talking for an hour or so before I left to catch the train. But boy, I missed my routine. And my routine is so Comcast-centric! Joe and Mika on TV, checking my Microsoft Outlook and Farmville Farm before I go to the office (where I will check my email and game again).

I got a text alert from Comcast at about 11:45, letting me know that my service had been restored. Even though I was 20 miles and hours away from home, I felt better.

I gotta be connected!

WWW.WEDNESDAY

WWW.WEDNESAY asks us three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here.

 
1. What are you currently reading?  
The Astonishing Thing by Sandi Ward. A moving and inventive look at mental illness and the impact it has on the lives it touches. Our narrator is the family cat, Boo. As the book begins, Boo adores "Mother," and their bond is so close the cat sees no reason to pay much attention to other members of the household. One day, Mother packs a bag and disappears. Everyone -- including Mother's two teenage children and husband -- is confused and heartbroken. Their pain and struggle brings them closer together, and Boo tries to understand what is happening to her humans and does what she can to help.

It would be easy to shorthand this by saying it's The Art of Racing in the Rain, but this time with a cat. And I suppose that's kinda true. But just as dogs and cats are different, the tone here is different. Boo is less ambitious than Enzo the dog. And this story unfolds slower and more carefully than Racing in the Rain did. Perhaps because Boo is more cautious with her tender little heart than Enzo was.

I have been drawn in. I think about this family even when I'm not reading. This book is so involving, wise and compassionate that I find it hard to believe it's Ms. Ward's debut novel, but it is.

2. What did you recently finish reading?  

Alibi in High Heels by Gemma Halliday. Since this book's central character is a designer, I think it's appropriate to invoke Coco Chanel. She once said of accessorizing, "Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off." I wish Ms. Halliday had looked at the outline of her book, which is filled with extraneous plot points, and removed at least one.

Shoe designer Maddie Springer is invited to work a show in Paris! But almost as soon as she arrives, Fashion Week is rocked by a murder, and it looks like someone is setting Maddie up as the prime suspect. She should be thrilled when her sexy Beverly Hills cop boyfriend jumps a jet and flies over the save the day, but she's not. His arrival reveals fissures in their relationship and she's not sure she wants his help.

That paragraph above? It's the outline of a perfectly entertaining chick-lit mystery. It's got glamour and romance and murder in a glittering setting. I wish that's what Halliday had written.

Instead, she adds all this distracting stuff. Maddie is hit by a car for no particular reason, which puts her on crutches for the entire book. It makes the whole frame-up thing a little hard to believe. Why would the killer try to pin the dastardly deed on a woman who has to conspicuously clomp-clomp-clomp in and out of the murder scene? Why can't Maddie produce an alibi witness from the dozens of Parisian hotel employees and waiters who at the time of the murder had to deal with clumsy American with the big foam boot and an inability to speak French? And there are side trips -- little day jaunts, really -- to London and Milan. Have you ever flown with a bum leg? It's not easy. Yet Maddie rather effortlessly navigates international airports.

Besides, since when aren't Beverly Hills and Paris exciting enough?

I think I was so annoyed by this book because it really was well plotted and could easily have been much better. If only Halliday had looked in the mirror and decided that the necklace and brooch together were too much and took one off.

3.  What will you read next?  

Right now, I'm leaning to Joe Biden's Promise Me, Dad.

Mission: Accomplished

I successfully applied for my replacement Social Security card! The new one should arrive in two weeks. It was much easier in person than how the Social Security website explained it to be. Still, it was not a pleasant experience. It took hours. To borrow from Tom Petty, "the waiting is the hardest part." I amused myself by checking out my fellow tax payers.

My favorites were the trio of older Asian women. They all looked to be well over 70. They spoke little English, and a special civil servant fluent in their language had to be summoned. As we all waited, I decided the ladies had to be Japanese, because I know American baseball is popular in Japan and the oldest woman was wearing both a Cubs cap and jacket (and she looked just adorable, like my grandma did in her Cubs gear). There was a fashionista in the trio. She was wearing black ankle boots, black leggings, a black infinity scarf, and a long, oversized blouse. On closer examination, I saw it was a NY Yankees jersey! I wonder if she understood that she had gone all Carrie Bradshaw on a baseball jersey. It got me wondering about how knowledge affects how we see things. When she opened her closet (or, perhaps, her grandson's closet) did she merely see a black-and-white striped tunic that afforded her unlimited fashion possibilities, whereas I saw the famous Yankee pinstripes -- which would have restricted me to blue jeans?

On my way to the water fountain, I was shocked to see these portraits. On the one hand, of course! The Social Security office is in a Federal Building. Naturally the official photographs of the President and Vice President would be on the wall.

On the other hand, I still can't get over it that these two are our President and Vice President. It still rattles me that nearly half of my fellow citizens looked at Trump/Pence on the ballot and said to themselves, "Yes! That looks like a good idea!"

Napoleon and Mom!

Randi is back! She's been terribly ill, and I was worried I'd never see her again. But today she was on the corner with Napoleon. She was wearing pajama bottoms because one of her legs is still swollen, and that can't be good, but she looked very happy.

Her illness was lonely and isolating. She mentioned the cards I sent her way, as well as the book and the little cat ornament. They gave her something to look at and think about when she was in the hospital. She missed talking to people, and she missed Napoleon so much. She told me a harrowing story of how, when she was filled with cancer drugs, she held Napoleon close for comfort and, when she came to, was sad to discover it was only a pillow.

When I arrived at her corner, she was deep in conversation with a cat lover who was asking about Napoleon. I told the woman how tiny Napoleon was when we first met, less than a month old, and how happy and loved and chill he is. I told her how the day Napoleon was rescued in the park by Caleb and Randi was the luckiest day of his life.

"No," Randi said. "It was the luckiest day of my life."

The woman was so touched she put an extra $5 in the cup.

Napoleon slept through all this. An oblivious fur shrimp, accepting all the attention and affection as his due. He's such a content, trusting animal that you can tell he's cared for and loved.

Attention must be paid

In 1994, when Burt Lancaster died at age 80, my grandmother was bereft. I was surprised, because she had never expressed any affection for him before. She seemed to go for the Latin lovers that were popular in the old days -- Fernando Lamas, Riccardo Montalban, and most of all, Cesar Romero.

"You don't understand," she said sadly. "Even my movie stars are dying." My dad (her son) was gone. Her husband, her sister and parents were gone. And now, even Burt Lancaster, who was crazy popular in her regular movie-going days, was gone.
 

I know how she felt. Burt Reynolds died this past week. Between 1978 and 1982 -- for five straight years -- he was the #1 movie star in the world. So even though I wasn't a fan, I have memories attached to his movies, his talk show appearances, and magazine covers ("Will Burt marry Dinah?" "Will Burt marry Sally?" "Loni vs. Burt: Hollywood's Nastiest Divorce.").

And so, in tribute to one of the lions of my girlhood, I share this TCM tribute.

Sunday Stealing

Food questions from Facebook

1.   Ever had ramen noodles? How do you fix yours? Do you add anything to them?   I just add the little envelope of seasoning that comes in the package.

2.   Do you like spicy foods? No. Irritates my tummy.

3.   Crispy or grilled chicken on your salad? Grilled. Though I prefer cubed ham.

4.   Do you like corn on the cob? Oh, yes!

5.   Pumpkin or apple pie? Depends on my mood.

6.   Dinner rolls or crescent rolls? Nice, flaky dinner rolls

7.   How do you like your eggs? Over easy or poached

8.   Most expensive meal you have ever eaten? Chicken dinner at Roister.

9.   Do you like stir fry? Sure

10.  What kind of pots and pans do you use? As few as possible.

11.   Do you like Brussel sprouts? Nope

12.   Canned or fresh tomatoes? I hate tomatoes.

13.   BBQ Chicken or Ribs? I like both.

14.   Do you like coffee? Hate it even more than tomatoes.

15.   Cupcakes or ice cream cake? Cupcakes. It's the frosting.

16.   Hot dogs or polish sausage? Hot dogs.

17.   Do you like cinnamon toast? Sure.

18.   Do you eat dinner at the table or in front of the TV? I eat at the dining room table but I can see the TV.

19.   Do you like to BBQ? I don't like cooking.

20.   Do you like cold cuts? Some.

21.   Do you like rice? Fried rice, yes.

22.   Macaroni and cheese? Yes

23.   Key Lime Pie? Yes

24.   Favorite Fair/Carnival Food? Peanuts

25.   What kind of gravy do you like? Beef

26.   Jalapeno Poppers? Blech

27.   Broccoli/Chicken Alfredo? Chicken Alfredo

28.   Do you like cottage cheese? Blech  

29.   Do you like lasagna? Sure

30.   Do you like hard boiled eggs? Sure

-->

So that makes four of us

Last night my movie Meet Up got together and saw a nice, fluffy film from 1936, Theodora Goes Wild. The movie was fine, but it wasn't what made the evening memorable.

Four of us are going to the TCM Classic Film Festival this spring! Will, Betty and her daughter, and me. The three of them have attended before -- Betty/Lauren last year, Will for several years running. It sounds perfect for me, for it was agreed that we'll each do our own thing, seeing the movies that we individually want which could take us on separate paths. But there will also be someone there I can ask for guidance, for help if I get lost or in trouble, for camaraderie if I feel the need for it.

If only every trip offered me exactly this. For, truth to tell, I get so annoyed with people when I spend too much time with them. I've lived alone too long to live with anyone.

So why am I annoyed

Last evening, the Windy City was sporadically very windy. While I was waiting for a very long light to change, I saw a black woman in a wheelchair, festooned with bags. Those bags led me to believe she was homeless and the bags are her belongings. The woman asked a chic lady of color to help push her Walgreens drugstore on the next corner. The lady refused and then incongruously started screaming -- and I mean really yelling -- for a cab to stop and pick her up.*

So there sat the woman in the wheelchair, her belongings flapping in the wind. The green arrow turned yellow, so I knew the walk light was next. I don't know why the woman didn't ask me for help, but as I stood there near her, waiting those last few seconds for the light to change, it seemed that I knew what I should do.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I said, "Do you need help?"

"You could push me to Walgreens," she said. I stood there for a second, expecting a "please" or "thank you." It was not forthcoming.

So I began to push her wheelchair up the street to the drugstore. I was wondering how I would get through the revolving door. I worried this would make me late I'd be for my movie MeetUp. I was struck by how vulnerable she was: she didn't know me and I was in charge of her safety.

When we got to the corner, she saw someone she knew outside Walgreens -- a man also in a wheelchair -- and she said, "OK. Stop. Thank you." I walked away.

On my way to the movie group, I was alternately pleased and annoyed by my deed. Pleased because I try to do good. I try to live the kind of life that would please God. I try to be more Melly than Scarlett. Pleased that even though I'm a fat old lady with a bad knee, I'm still able to help.

But annoyed because she was so ... cold about it. Is it because I'm white? I can't help but notice that she asked the camelhair-clad black woman beside me for help but not white, jean-jacket clad me. She didn't say "please" at the beginning of our ride and made no attempt to make eye contact with me at the end. I treated her with respect, and didn't feel I was respected in return.

There's a verse from The Book of Matthew that bugs me: Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in Heaven.


By being annoying with this woman for not treating me with the same humanity I showed her, am I merely respecting myself? OR am I just being silly and vain, upset that my I didn't receive more gratitude for my good deed?

*I remember thinking, "I bet she wished she could whistle like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Gotta Travel On (1959)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) In this song, the Billy Grammer sings that "summer's almost gone, winter's coming on." When you look out your window, do you see any evidence that the seasons are changing? Nope. Though it feels cooler, it still looks very much like summer.

2) He admits he has laid around and played around for too long. Do you consider lazy days to be wasted days? Depends. On the one hand, they rejuvenate me. On the other hand, if there's something productive I should be doing, lazy days can leave me feeling guilty.

3) Billy relaxed by fishing. Tell us about a visit you made to a pier, or a ride you took on a boat, this past year. (Bonus points if you went fishing!) No. Now that summer's over, I'm sorry I didn't go out of my way to visit Lake Michigan. I can see it from our office, I've ridden past it en route to Wrigley Field, but I never actually spent any time there this past year. Over Christmas, I have a date with the ocean when I head to Florida for the holiday.

4) Born in 1925, Mr. Grammer was the eldest of 13 children. He and his wife Ruth were childless. What do you think is the ideal size for a family? It depends on how much money and space and time the parents have. I want every baby that's born to be wanted and loved.

5) This song was very popular on juke boxes back in 1959. When were you last in a bar or restaurant that had a juke box? Did you play it? About two weeks ago, I was in a dive bar with a juke box. But everyone was watching the Cub game and no one wanted music.

6) In 1959, movie tickets zoomed up in price to $1.00 and Ben Hur was the big blockbuster. What's the last movie you saw in a theater? Do you remember how much the ticket cost? I saw the latest Jurassic movie. The ticket price was $6.

7) Huckleberry Hound was a hit with the younger audience in 1959. What cartoon did you enjoy as a kid? Rocky and Bullwinkle can still make me laugh.

8) In 1959, continuing dramas (soap operas) were still broadcast each day on the radio. When you turn on the radio, do you listen for talk, news, or music? Music

9) Random question -- Which competition would you rather judge: The Pillsbury Bake Off, The Miss America Pageant, or Dancing with the Stars? The Pillsbury Bake Off! This cranberry-orange roll was the 2018 winner.

... but you gave me the number!

By mid-November, I must renew my state-issued ID. Illinois has lagged behind when it came to our ID system and finally the TSA insisted we step it up for security reasons. If we didn't, then we Illinoisans would need to produce a passport every time we board a plane, even for domestic flights.

To get one of these new, enhanced IDs -- which is probably just the same as the one you carry if you don't live here -- I have to prove I'm me. To that end, I need to produce my birth certificate (check), a passport (don't have one) and/or Social Security card (huh?).

I got my Social Security card when I was a very young girl and opened my savings account at the bank up the street with the then groovy, high-tech time/temp sign. I have no idea what happened to that little card. I've never needed it. I memorized the number and that's been enough for the IRS and every credit card/loan/investment/checking account I've ever opened.

But it may not be enough for getting one of these new IDs. OK, I get the need. These new cards will be more secure, they'll keep us safer in the sky and will help reduce identity theft. Who's not on board with that? So I guess it's time to get a replacement Social Security card.

Holy shit! To get the new Social Security card, I have to prove I'm me. To that end, I need to produce my birth certificate, passport and/or state-issued ID. Yes, to get the new Social Security card, I have to show them the IL ID I need the Social Security card to replace.

I also have to fill out a form that asks my parents' names at the time of my birth, and their Social Security Numbers. I could only find my mother's. I can't find my dad's. Since there's a box for DON'T KNOW, I'm pretty sure that having just hers is just enough.

Just hers. Think of it. Do you have access to your parents' Social Security Numbers?

This all seems like a lot of work to get a card with a number on it that they gave me in the first place.

Oh, well. I think I have everything I need for my visit to the Social Security office on Monday morning. Wish me luck!

Catnip carnage

Someone separated that little white mouse's face from its body last night. The tail was nowhere to be found, perhaps devoured.

Neither Connie nor Reynaldo expressed any remorse.

Before they're gone ...

When our offices moved across the street to Illinois Center, I gave up passing these fountains and this greenery every day, twice a day. I miss them more than I thought I would, so I often slip back at lunchtime. Wednesday I took a few photos, to preserve them before they're shut off for Fall/Winter.

WWW.WEDNESDAY

WWW.WEDNESAY asks us three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here.

 
1. What are you currently reading?  
Alibi in High Heels by Gemma Halliday. Shoe designer Maddie Springer just got her big break: an invitation to Fashion Week in Paris! But before she can get to The City of Lights, there's a bone-breaking car accident. Once she arrives, there's a jewel heist and a model is murdered and it's starting to look like someone is setting Maddie up as a suspect and putting her life in danger.

This is fluff. It begins, "I love shoes. I mean, I really, really love them." It's lightweight in every sense of the word: it not only provides glamorous, mindless escape, it's a small paperback that fits easily into my purse.

But you know what? After the big, thought-provoking and at times heartbreakingly sad biography I just finished (see below), lightweight escapism could be just what the doctor ordered. Let's hope it delivers. Author Gemma Halliday is certainly prolific and popular, so my hopes are as high as Maddie's heels.

2. What did you recently finish reading?  

Joe DiMaggio: The Hero's Life by Richard Ben Cramer. This exhaustive (546 pages!) biography was exhausting in its pervasive sadness. Here was a man who simply did not/could not enjoy his gifts.

He was unbelievably graceful, independent and disciplined. He had a high pain threshold. His hitting streak (56 games!) remains untouched after more than 70 years. On the field, he was a champion that generations of Americans looked up to.

Off the field, though ... he was petty and jealous, disrespecting the older Lou Gehrig and resenting the younger Mickey Mantle. He was cheap. Understandable, perhaps, because he came from poverty. His moral relativism made me nuts. On the one hand, he wouldn't appear on a dais with then-President Bill Clinton because he didn't approve of the Lewinsky scandal. Fair enough. But Joe, didn't you invest with a mobster who (certainly) had people murdered and (allegedly) incinerated them in his backyard barbecue pit? 

He made himself unhappy. He only seemed to want his first wife when she made herself elusive. No wonder she eventually tired of him and moved on. And then of course, his second wife. Marilyn.* His love and loyalty were indomitable and enduring. But he didn't seem to "hear" her. Seemingly to the day she died, he believed she was willing to walk away from her career and just be his wife.

Cramer gives this big man and his sprawling life their due. He writes well about Joe and baseball, about Joe and the Italian-American community (especially important during WWII), about Joe and Marilyn. I loved this passage about Marilyn's nude calendar shoot: "[It] would become an enormous public relations triumph -- one of the building blocks of her legend. And, at the cost of his own lifelong heartache, so would Joe."

I just wish, for both his sake and mine, he really was the man I thought he was when I cracked open this book.

*You don't have to ask "Marilyn, who?" do you? He married a myth even more enduring than his own.

3.  What will you read next?  

Has anyone read Meg Wolitzer? She's sitting atop my TBR pile with a book called Surrender, Dorothy. There are also more biographies and more mysteries awaiting my attention.

I wanna be Laura Bush

After watching more than hour of Aretha Franklin's Friday funeral and all of John McCain's Sunday service, I've decided that if one finds oneself at a big, serious religious event, the slot between George W. Bush and Bill Clinton is the place to be.

You can't tell from this photo, but W. was often shown leaning over to his wife or Michelle Obama, whispering with a bit of a smirk on his face. The Twitterverse also caught him passing candy to Mrs. Obama. I never have candy at these events!

And then there's Bill. His joie de vivre is on full display whenever he hears church music. After two days of services, I've come the conclusion that there isn't a hymn he doesn't want to sing.

This has nothing to do with politics. I still believe the world would look different and America would be a better place had John Kerry won in 2004. I still don't like torture, or anything about Dick Cheyney. I think that queasy feeling I got during all that Wall Street deregulation was proven prescient. And Katrina! That was the most shameful way I've seen America treat her own ... until Maria hit Puerto Rico. (That's the thing, isn't it? Since George W. Bush isn't the nightmare bully who resides at 1600 today -- Wait! It's Labor Day! I'll bet Trump is off playing golf somewhere. -- it's easy to forget how tough things were during W's administration.)

Yeah, yeah. Bill had his problems with women. I'm not forgetting that. But Trump and his payoffs leave him in the shade.

But I didn't want this to be about how Trump (who isn't in the photo above because he wasn't invited to McCain's funeral) has coarsened American life and how far he has lowered the bar. It's about how fidgety I get at formal, somber events and how I felt a very human kinship with these two historical figures while watching the funerals. I like that human connection with my Presidents.

Sunday Stealing

Freaky Poptart

What is one thing that you would change about yourself if you could? I would be more focused, more disciplined.

Name three exotic countries you would like to visit: There aren't any. However, there are places in the US I haven't seen but would like to. 1) The Grand Canyon; 2) Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown; 3) New Orleans

What do you think the secret to life is? I'll let JT speak for me.


 
Best concert: Sir Paul at Wrigley Field, 2011


Song you can listen to over and over and not get tired of:




Worst movie music soundtrack or score: Anything that's primarily classical. Like Amadeus, Humoresque or Song of Love. I'm sorry, but I hate the classics.

A song you wish wouldn't get stuck in your head but always does: "The Candy Man can cuz he mixes it with love and makes the world taste goooood." Late last spring, workmen were renovating the apartment at the end of the hall and for some reason, they were listening to a Sammy Davis Jr. CD or Sirius station. (I know, not what you'd expect from drywallers in 2018.) Anyway, as I was taking out the trash, "The Candy Man" was playing. I swear, it was stuck in my head for hours and hours and hours.


Who was your FIRST date? Jeff. It was a school dance.


Do you still talk to your FIRST love? No.


What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Probably a sip of beer when I was really little. I don't remember,


What was your FIRST job? Babysitting.


What was your FIRST car? First an only: a big old Chevy Impala.


Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Ft. Lauderdale. I went with my cousin to see my favorite uncle.


Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Yes. I spoke to her just this week.


Whose wedding did you attend the FIRST time? When I was in Kindergarten, I attended the wedding of our next door neighbor's son, Billy. I loved him so. He had shiny black hair and always wore black t-shirts. Whenever he came home to his parents' house to wash his car in their driveway, he let me help. I would sponge the hubcaps. He told me I did such a good job that he would marry me some day. LIAR! He married some hairsprayed bitch named Sandy and my parents actually dragged me to the wedding. To her dying day, my mother loved telling the story of how sullen and angry this little Gal was about losing the man I referred to all day as "my husband."


Tell us about your FIRST roommate. I have never had a roommate.


If you had one wish, what would it be (other than more wishes)? Perfect health.


What is something you would learn if you had the chance? Spanish


Did you marry the FIRST person you were in love with? No. Billy married that hairsprayed bitch, Sandy, instead.

What were the first lessons you ever took and why? Ballet. My mother made me.

What is the first thing you do when you get home? Feline headcount. My beige tom, Reynaldo, always meets me at the door. But my girlcat, Connie, doesn't always make herself visible and so I worry until I'm sure she's OK.