Peter wins a bet.

At some point early on in our little romance, Peter asked me if I liked country music.
"No!" I exclaimed, vehemently. "I HATE country music!"
"Well, but ALL of it? You can't hate it ALL.." he replied.
"Peter, I grew up in TEXAS. I LOATHE ALL country music."
"What about Patsy Cline?", he cleverly chimed in.
"No. She doesn't even count. I love her, you know that. But she's above and beyond."
Hilary had turned me on to Patsy Cline at Interlochen, and I loved, loved, loved me some Patsy Cline.
"What about Hank Williams, or Johnny Cash?" Peter persisted.."what about the old stuff?"
"Well, maybe. But NOTHING past 1970. Nothin', nothin', nothin'!" I said in a country accent.
"Have you ever heard of Dwight Yoakam?"
"Nope. And I don't want to."
"You are so stubborn!" said Peter. "I'll make you a bet right here and now that I can show you some NEW country music that you will just love. Or - at least you won't HATE it."
"Well, I'll take that bet!" I said with total confidence, "You'd better make the stakes high - because I'm going to win. What DO I get WHEN I win?"
Peter thought about it for a minute.
Shoot, I didn't REALLY,REALLY think there was NO likable country music out there - but I LOVED watching Peter get so earnest and bent out of shape. Plus, it WAS true - growing up in Texas, I was tortured by bad country music on the radio.
"Well, what do I want when I win, is the big question.." Peter mulled."If I win - you have to do any crazy thing I ask you to - but only for 20 minutes, ok?"
"Like WHAT?" I asked.
"Like, I don't know - anything. Bark like a dog, or climb a tree - just anything I come up with, ok?"
"Ok, fine. And WHEN I win, I would like you to take me back to that Italian restaurant in the Village where the guy sings opera."
"OH MAN! THAT place!!???" Peter groaned.
"Yes. THAT place."

THAT PLACE was an Italian restaurant in the Village that Peter took me to for a real 'date night'. The nanny stayed late so that we could go out for a real romantic dinner, and Peter had found this place that looked so charming. It was straight out of an old black and white movie. One of those places in the Village that was half basement, and seemed like it had been there forever. We came in from the cold to a cozy warm vibe, the smell of garlic bread and good sauce filling the place up. It had red and white checkered tablecloths, drippy candles on all the tables, and it was just dark enough.

We took our coats off, Peter signed in with the host, and we began to look around a bit more. The place was lively - bustling. I took that as a sign that the food must be good. Then Peter tugged at my sleeve.
"Uhh...do you notice anything...different about this place?"
"Well, it looks great to me." I said. "And I'm starving."
"Do you not notice that there are an awful lot of MEN here?" Peter said. I looked around. He was right. In fact, I was the ONLY girl in the place. I looked at Peter and shrugged.
"I don't know, Jennifer. You know I'm not homophobic, but some of these guys are REALLY checking me out."
Indeed they were. Checking out young,red-headed Peter with his lovely carpenter body. I thought it was HILARIOUS.
"I'm a tiny bit uncomfortable. Maybe we should go somewhere else?" Peter whispered, just as the host was waving us to a cozy table in the center of the room.
"Don't be ridiculous. We've just gotten a table. And anyway, I'll protect you."

The night turned out to be SUPER fun, despite Peter's initial misgivings. A bunch of men DID flirt with him, and a couple of them told me what a lucky girl I was. It was great. And the food was great. And then, this old Italian man burst into opera - right by our table. We drank lots of wine - I would have sworn that our waiter kept pouring free glasses after our bottle was gone through. And when we stumbled out into the cold air, I think Peter's head was at least two sizes bigger.

A couple of weeks later, after we placed our bet and shook on it, Peter came home with an CD to play me. It was Dwight Yoakam. And I couldn't lie. I liked it.

Triumphant, and gloating, Peter was ready to name his reward.
"Go up on the roof, and take all of your clothes off." Peter said with authority.
"Are you CRAZY!?" I just about shouted.
"Well, that's debatable. But never the less.."

Somehow (and I know that many people who know me won't believe I did this - because I can be so shy about my body - but if you track Peter down, he will confirm it)...SOMEHOW I did end up on the roof. Naked as the day I was born. But that wasn't the worst part. Peter made a grab for my clothes and ran inside with them, locking me out! So I ended up IN THE HALLWAY of my APARTMENT BUILDING - NAKED! Yelling at Peter through the door, pounding on it, threatening to kill him.

I probably wasn't out there for very long. No one came into the hall while I was stranded out there - but it felt like forever.
Peter could NOT stop laughing. He was laughing so hard it looked like he would break into pieces. And when I finally got over the idea that I was going to kill him, I started laughing, too.

Peter's instant family.

Peter moved in with us that very first night. I don't remember any discussion about it - it just happened. The next day, while I was at rehearsal at 890 Broadway - right next to the 'Starlight Express' cast - Peter went to Brooklyn to get some of his clothes and things, and just moved right in.

It was wonderful to have him there. And so much happened during those crazy long and short three months - I'm sure I'll get the timing mixed up for lots of these little stories.

When Peter first moved in, we were an instant little family. I would go to rehearsal every day for the show, leaving Max with the wonderful Indian nanny that I had found. She was beautiful and patient and always thirsty. Her constant lecture to me was that I should drink more water. It must have sunk in - because I drink TONS of water now.
Peter would go off every day looking for union work on some new skyscraper going up. Come home with tales of crusty,older carpenters down at the union building that needed the work more than he did.
"What was I going to do?" he'd say, "Patrick has a family to feed. He's got THREE kids, for Christ's sake!" He would shake his head at the dismal state of things - work wise - and then he'd look at me and pull out a great big grin. "Awww...it'll get better in a week! Let's go out to dinner!"

And out to dinner we would go. I just took Max everywhere with us, and everywhere we took him, Max charmed the pants off of people. I kept a watchful eye on Peter the whole time. I was worried that he wouldn't want the trouble of being with a little kid, so I tried to never let that burden rest on his shoulders for even a moment. A couple of times, Max woke up in the middle of the night and Peter said, "I'll go. I don't have work tomorrow, and you do." But I never let him.

One sunny Saturday afternoon we went for a boat ride in Central Park. Max loved it. He'd been asking to go on those boats, and it was finally warm enough. We paddled out to the middle of the pond, waving at everybody, having a grand time. And just when we were trying to decide where to go next - the paddle boat started filling up with water at an alarming rate.
"We're sinking!" I exclaimed.
"Bail!" ordered Peter.
We looked around for something to bail the water out with, and all we had was one paper cup - from a fountain drink.
Max was delighted. We decided we'd better paddle for shore as fast as we could, with Max bailing water as fast as he could. By the time we got back to the little paddle boat place, our ship was halfway under water, and we were all soaking wet - especially Max. But it was a warm day, and we didn't care.As we were walking back to the apartment, a cute older couple stopped us.

"Oh what an adorable little boy." they said about Max. That was not uncommon. Then the older gentleman addressed Peter. "That's a beautiful little family you've got there." he said.
I turned beet red from embarasment. This is EXACTLY what I didn't need! Ugh. Peter would flee like a man on fire if people started saying things like that! Max's own father had...so why WOULDN'T a much younger and much less employed man? I tried to whip Max and myself into a pseudo hiding place behind a hot dog vendor. But I could hear Peter's response loud and clear.
"Why thank you. " he said, "Thank you very much."
Anyone could have said that out of politeness, but I turned right around in time to see Peter's face. He was beaming. Not angry or weird, like I thought he'd be - but beaming. Proud looking. As if we WERE his family, and he was so happy to show us off.
He looked right at me. "They are pretty beautiful, aren't they?"

With that simple gesture, Peter pulled off a layer of the protective wall I had guarding my heart. And he kept doing it. Just as Max's father had taught me to put those layers on - build those walls as if my heart were a fortress that needed to be protected, Peter took them away. One by one, I could feel the hurt peeling off. One by one, I could feel the wounds being filled up and healed with unabashed love. Not JUST for me - but for Max, too. And even though it was early in the game (as far as me being a mother) - I already knew down to my core that Max and I were one. We didn't come separately. We came as a package.

One time we took Max to the movies. I was hoping he would go to sleep in my arms, like he had done so many times at the movies. But he was getting a little old for that - and still too young to enjoy the movie. So I took him out to the lobby and let him run around. We went outside for a few minutes, too, just to change the scenery. I had left Peter in the movie theater with Max's stroller and our jackets and stuff. No reason for both of us to miss it.
When Max looked as though he were FINALLY getting sleepy, I snuck back into the theater, and sat in the back row - letting Max fall asleep on my shoulder. There were only a few minutes left of the movie.
The house lights went up, and I began to look for Peter. He was no-where to be found. Nor was the stroller, or our jackets, or anything. I hoisted Max further up on my shoulder and went into the lobby to look for Peter. No Peter. I asked one of the ushers to look in the men's room. No Peter. Back into the theater - he was nowhere!

I got ready to walk the many, many cold blocks back to my apartment with a heavy toddler on my shoulder. I was worried that he would get really cold on the way. But what else to do? My bag was with Peter, too - so - no cab fare. I walked about half a block down the street when I heard his voice behind us.
"Jennifer! Jennifer! Wait up!"he called as he ran up to us with the stroller and all our crap piled on top of it. "I was so worried! Where WERE you guys!!??" he said.

My initial instinct to be annoyed with him (HE had disappeared after all, not me)was instantly flushed away by the worried look on his face. Peter did not have much of a filter.At Interlochen, I would have said he had none. And that same quality that I found so annoying and young a couple of years before, turned out to be one of the best things about him.
He had been so concerned about us, that he'd spent almost the whole movie looking for us - we'd been going in circles.

If I had any doubt remaining about Peter, or how he felt about BOTH of us, it was gone now. It was gone after seeing that look on his face, and hearing all the way home how worried he'd been that something bad had really happened to us.

At home,we put Max to bed, ate cold chinese noodles right out of the fridge, and made plans to take Max on the ferry the next day (for a quarter a piece) and check out the Statue of Liberty.
As we snuggled into bed, and Peter put his strong arms around me he said, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you guys. You know that, don't you?"
I nodded my head "yes", and tried not to let him feel the tears that were running down my cheek.

Peter.

This story is my argument that it isn't always the LENGTH of a love story that determines it's worth - sometimes a LOT of love and life can be packed into a few short months. Three, in this case.

Peter Steadman came to Interlochen my senior year. The same year that I took off a quarter to do musical theater in Dallas. He was just starting Interlochen that year as a sophomore.

Peter had bright red/orange hair, freckles,was an inch shorter than me, and looked exactly like the 'young Santa' in that stop-motion animation thing that ran every Christmas when we were kids - it's called 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town', I think. Anyway - it's the one where they tell you the origins of Santa Claus - with Miester Burger Burger Miester - that guy was who hated toys. PLEASE feel free to chime in if any of you know these details!
Peter was VERY energetic, just like a puppy with SOOOO much energy, and one day - near the end of school, he took me out to the forrest to have a chat. It was spring time, after a LONG winter. Birds were chirping, bees buzzing, flowers blossoming....Spring, in fact, was in the air. Peter sat me down on a fallen tree and proclaimed his love to me. He stood there, baring his heart....and what did I do? Evil, evil girl that I was! I couldn't help it! I just started laughing. I mean he was so SINCERE! I just couldn't help it. I didn't WANT to be mean - but I laughed. I did. It was horrible. But it wasn't THAT horrible, because Peter laughed with me. Not at first - but when I wasn't stopping...he started laughing, too. That was a big part of the reason that he thought he loved me. Because we had so much fun together.

So that's what happened at Interlochen. I laughed at him, scorned him as a younger man, if you will, and that's it. But we remained friends somehow.

Cut to a couple years later. I get an offer of a Broadway show. While I'm still at LAMDA. I can't refuse. Steve Fox and his family fly Max and I to NYC, and relocate us into this bomb apartment on West 17th St. In Manhattan. It's on the top floor of a new building, and it's TWO WHOLE bedrooms and TWO WHOLE BATHROOMS!!!! In the city! With hardwood floors. And a new kitchen! And I'm given carte blanche - car service, accounts at restaurants - I feel RICH!!!!! After starving to death at LAMDA - saved ONLY by Joe's kindness and homemade Italian food - I feel RICH!!!

I had everybody over I possibly could. The Husky girls, Hilary, Lothair came, I think John Patton, Chris Earl came one time (different blog) - and finally - Peter came.
Peter came over one day on his own. I don't exactly remember how we connected with each other. But - he came over one night for a visit. He got along swimmingly with Max. And I was immediately impressed with several things about him. First off, he was taller. Secondly, his voice had dropped an octave. Thirdly, he had dropped out of NYU's writing program to become a union carpenter - and it SHOWED!!! Fourthly, he just seemed like a man instead of a kid.

After Max went to sleep,Peter went around the apartment telling me all of the non-union flaws that he saw - and explained WHY they were so bad and how they should have been done on a union job. This was very sexy to me. I have always been a sucker for a man who is good with his hands.
Then, we watched a little TV, and talked about stuff. Drank some wine.We discussed the idea of Peter staying the night - because it was so late and he'd have to take the train out to Brooklyn and all..

I brushed my teeth and got into my PJ's. My head was reeling. I could FEEL Peter waiting out in the living room - probably pacing. I didn't know what to make of it, or what I should. I couldn't stop thinking about Peter's confession in the woods only a couple of years prior - and how I had been so mean - probably screwed everything up - in CASE ...just in CASE he liked me like that still.

As I was coming out of the bathroom with sparkly clean teeth, Peter sort of rushed in to me. He grabbed both of my hands and pulled me into the bedroom, sat me down on the bed and kneeled before me.
"The thing is, Jennifer, " he said in an earnest whisper, "Is that I can't stay here. I just can't.."
He said this, but he didn't SEEM this.
"Why, Peter? It's 2 o'clock in the morning." I said back to him, trying to read his face and voice over and above his words.
"I can't stay here with you tonight....", Peter said carefully and slowly, "because I am REALLY attracted to you. And I'll go crazy. I will literally go stark, raving mad if I have to sleep in the other room with you just in here...I just can't do that. I can't."
He tried to pull his hands away from mine, but I wouldn't let him. I pulled back. Brought him in close to me. So close, I could smell his breath.
"Stay." I whispered.
"Really?" Peter said - and it was almost a little too loud.
I just kissed him and pulled him into bed with me.

That night started one of the best love affairs of my life. It only lasted three months - but when I tell you abut those three months, I think you might understand where I am coming from.

our first Christmas in LA...

I moved out to LA against ALL advice from everyone. Except maybe my boyfriend at the time. He was an actor, and supportive. Otherwise - no one. For some reason my whole family thought (and mostly still thinks) that LA is the land of the DEVIL.
When my mind goes into imagining their version of LA - I see lakes of molten fire with creepy plastic surgery ladies dancing around it and chanting some evil words to seduce me into a life of plastic bad-doing and HELL! The casting couches are as big as a small house, and when you DARE to sit on one, you are swallowed up whole like quick sand! Evil, bad men with slicked - back hair, driving convertable BMWs lure young girls into their cars - only so they can drive them straight to the gates of hell - where there are crazy orgies going on night and day!
And I just want to say to them all (I still do!) - I SURVIVED DALLAS!!!!! NOTHING can be MORE plastic or EVIL!!!!

Anyway, I moved out here with a 3 year old little boy (Max) and a crappy car, and no-one else that I knew in the world - except that my boyfriend was going to move out some months after me, and Hilary Aptowitz was coming to live with Max and I just as soon as we got an apartment.

David Poynter ( my boyfriend) drove me out with all of my stuff. David was hands down the most beautiful man I was ever with. Hands down. He looked like a model. And he had a place for us to stay when we first landed. It was with a pretty big casting guy at Disney. He had a place up, up, up Beachwood Canyon.A really sick place. And it was so odd - because at the very same time that this guy was flirting with ME - in front of my boyfriend, making him jealous - I was getting some major gay-dar vibes from him. It turns out I was RIGHT. He was in lust with David, and well, whatever. Not important.

Because of David's introductions to agencies from this guy - this friend - I got an agent in the first week of moving here. And not just any agent. A GOOD one. STE, if anyone remembers. They later turned into Paradigm. And they started sending me out immediately.
We found an apartment in Korea town - which I chose because it reminded me of New York - David wasn't going to live with me - but Hil was flying out right away. She was great. We had no furniture, poor as Church-mice, but Hilary made our place look great. She turned cardboard boxes into little side tables, threw beautiful scarfs over everything, filled our big closet up with beautiful clothes, and our tiny bathroom up with the most expensive and lovely smelling bath products imaginable! She had a couple of items that I LOVED to borrow and wear - and of mine - I mostly remember her wearing my jodpurs - which she looked GREAT in!

And the two of us with Max were a hoot! Hilary was especially funny. She would sweep Max up in her arms - this adorable little blonde boy - and say "Kiss me, you fool!" and Max would collapse into giggles and try to squirm away from her. But then, after awhile, he sort of got the routine down and would answer back VERY dramatically,"YES!!!! I will kiss you - but YOU are the fool!"

By the time Christmas rolled around, I had already had a couple of TV jobs,Hilary had I been on some great adventures, and we felt like we could throw a Christmas party. So we did.
We got a Christmas tree with Max, and decorated it with the most random things you can imagine - lots of jewelry, and some paper things we made - some of Max's toys made it onto the tree - and we made some phone calls.

The night of the party, our tiny apartment looked and felt like Holly Golightly's place in 'Breakfast at Tiffanies'. There were people packed into every corner. In the tiny kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and also spilling outside into the hallway, and the stair landing. I was beyond impressed at our combined effort to throw such a good party. But I felt that it was mostly due to Hil.

Anyway - the party was slammin', and we were all having a great time. The median age was probably 23, and there were all kinds of beautiful people and characters there. And then a surprise walked through the door.

Our friend, Phil Lewis, (from Interlochen) walked through the door with Christian Slater and some other actor that ended up being a big deal. It was SOO great to see Phil! I didn't have the slightest idea that he had a TV show...he was the teacher on a show called "Teach" back in the early 90's - if you have kids, you might know him from a current Disney show, "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody" - which I think has moved to a boat or something, but my kids are too old to watch that show anymore, so I've lost track! Phil played the manager of the Hotel that Zack and Cody lived in - you know the uptight and proper hotel manager - lots of eye-rolling at the kids' antics!

Drinks were flowing, music going, everyone having a good time. I have a couple of polaroids from that party - must find those! And before I knew it, Christian Slater was beckoning me to come outside into the hallway with him.
He asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said "yes".
He asked me if it was 'serious', I said "yes".
We talked about acting. Agents, movies coming up, auditions, etc. I was sitting on the stairs, and he was sort of leaning over me. We were getting along really well. Conversation was easy. And just as he leaned down to kiss me anyway - my boyfriend came out and saw the whole thing.
"What's going on?" David demanded.
"Nothing", I said, with a guilty look.
"REALLY?" David said. "REALLY? 'Cause it LOOKS like something is going on." He said, looking like he was going to murder Christian Slater.
Christian just laughed. "Look, man. Nothing happened. Calm down."
You know what Christian Slater is like - you can imagine perfectly how this all came out - his sly grin, slightly superior look on his face, the attitude that he and I were in on some secret joke that David just didn't GET.....horrible for David. Just horrible.

Well, despite a few moments of not knowing - David did NOT beat Christian Slater to a pulp, and we all had a great time.

A few days later, we had to get rid of our very DRY Christmas tree. Hilary and I put our heads together, as we did with all things back then. We realized that the trash bins were directly below our windows, and decided to simply throw the tree out of the window. Max was thrilled. We all got it off of it's stand, and heaved it out the window - 6 stories down. It landed with a big thud on the dumpster, and Max's cry of "Oh yea! Yea, baby!"
It's a memory that has stuck out in his mind all these years. So funny what people remember - and don't.

That Christmas, Hilary and I were best of friends - that was a treasure in and of itself. I was in love with an amazing and gorgeous man, my career as a TV actress was just getting started, and my little boy was having fun doing the simple things. He didn't resent me because all three of us lived in a one bedroom apartment, or even because I didn't always have money for his favorite cereal - Max just thought it was great that we were throwing Christmas trees out of the window, and that he got to ride around with me going to auditions all day instead of going to some scary pre-school or day care. He thought it was cool that our local grocery store was Korean and they had lots of 'monsters' (lobsters) and fish swimming around in tanks to visit every time we went for groceries.

Our futures were right in front of us. We were all young and beautiful and fearless.

"Kiss me, you fool!", Hilary said to Max after he quit jumping up and down with glee over the Christmas tree landing.
"I SHALL kiss you, fair maiden!", said Max this time, "But don't tell me I didn't warn you!"
And with that, he gave Hilary a terribly big and wet 3 year old kiss - and Hil went down shrieking with laughter.

drowning.

do you remember this feeling? when was the last time you felt it?

I'm drowning in this water.
Your love is taking me
I can breathe through your lips
in the middle of your love
I can move like a mermaid.
Like a sea flower.
folding
unfolding
A baby-flower
in your arms.
You sing to my fears.
Forever is in your eyes.

the worst Christmas ever.

For a few reasons, I am inclined to write about the worst Christmas ever. There have been a couple of bad ones. But this was, in my memory, the worst.

We were all living on Ave G., in Austin. I was pretty young. Eleven or so. When I say 'we were all' - I mean that it was the original family. Before divorce, before we started splitting up. My dad, and step-mother (who was my mom for all practical purposes, I didn't have another), me, my 2 brothers, Robert and Marcus, and our half siblings, Alice , Paul and Emily - in that order.

I wish that I could take you into that world. I wish I could without writing an entire novel about it. My dad, our dad, was going back to school for his PHD in English. Our mother was having babies and going to U.T. as well. She was a painter, and studying early childhood education. They were in love. Despite all of the fighting, and our poverty. They were in love. My father was a photographer, he had black and white photos of us up all over the house. In the hall by their bedroom was a black and white photo of our mom, topless, in the park, wearing her John Lennon glasses, her hair in braids, looking very young and smart and sexy.

My parents always had a big bookcase right in the living room with books, photo albums, and the bottom 2 shelves were devoted to their records. My dad had the top shelf - jazz, classical, opera. My mom had the very bottom shelf. Fellini soundtracks, Billy Holiday, Joni Mitchell, the Beatles, The Stones,Rick James, Edith Piaf, etc.

They had great parties. Even with six kids. My dad's best friend was another English guy at U.T. - the guy who played "Leatherface" in Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But in real life,his name was Gunnar Hansen, and he was a kitten. Sometimes he got drunk and I would find him on our couch the next morning. Or even a couple times on the porch swing out side. When Star Wars came out - all of my parents' friends were obsessed with it. They went to a big Star Wars party - and I remember thinking it was the coolest thing in the world to watch them get dressed up, especially when my sexy aunt Annie came over dressed as Princess Lea. This may have even been before THAT Christmas.

We had a big, old house that my grandmother - the same one that sent me to Interlochen - bought for us. For me, it was a little bit of heaven because I had my own room, way up in the attic. Attached to the attic. It was blazing hot in the summer, and pretty cold in the winter, but I didn't care. I got to get away from everyone up there - hide out with the squirrels in that big pecan tree that was growing right outside and UP TO my windows. My step-mom let me paint it violet. She guided me away from a gaudy purple color and towards a very light, soft violet. I loved that room. I could read all night up there without getting caught. And I did.

It was coming on Christmas time, and we were all getting excited. I remember, earlier in the month, a pretty funny thing happened with my little brother, Marcus.

We had this clutch of bushes on the side of the house that we called a fort. The bigger kids. There was a little hollowed out space in the middle that we could hide in, make plans in. Also, it was a great place for finding rose quartz. And, early in December, just as it was getting really cold, Robert and I dared our little brother, Marcus for a dollar.

We took him in the 'fort' and put it to him thusly; "OK. We have a proposition. WE will give YOU a whole dollar.." (Robert held up the dollar to show him we were serious) "if YOU will do something OUTRAGEOUS."
"What do I have to do?", Marcus asked timidly. He was the runt of us bigger three. The little brother we could always hear calling, "Wait for me!"
Robert looked at me,and our neighbor, Brad, knowingly. The four of us were inseparable in those days.
Brad took up the lead "OK." he said. "Here's the deal..." he bent over and whispered into Marcus' ear.
"No WAY?!" said Marcus.
"YES WAY!" said Brad and Robert. Marcus looked to me, I was often his savior, but this time I was in on the evil plot.I nodded 'yes', then removed myself from the 'fort', jumping up and down in the cold and breathing hard so that I could see the little cloud of smoke come out of my mouth. I contemplated whether or not it was worth it to stay out there. He wouldn't go through with it! It was COLD out there.
Then the bushes shook and I was joined by Brad and Robert, rubbing their hands in delight.
"He's gonna DOOO it! " they practically sang with glee.

Before any of us had a moment to prepare for the event, our little brother, skinny and white as all get-out, came streaking out of the bushes with a high-pitched yowl - naked as the day he was born.He ran into the street, stopping one car, as I remember it, jumping up and down screaming like a banshee!
It all seemed like it happened in slow motion, but super fast, too. I felt like I didn't have time to shut my wide open mouth and transition from gawking at his little rubber penis flapping around, to letting the belly-laugh rip that was just about bursting from my seams before our mother came running out the front door, yelling like nobody's business at all of us!
"Are you all CRAZY!?" she yelled. "What the hell got into YOU?" she directed at Marcus as she swooped him up with one arm and whisked him inside faster than any of us could ever believe.

A couple minutes later , she was lecturing us all as she was ironing in the dining room.
"Would you like to tell me what that was all about?"she said, sternly.
"WE didn't tell him to run out into the street neked...." Robert started to say.
"NEKED???!!!" Sheila seemed like she was about to burst a gasket. That word sent her off five times more than Marcus actually doing it, apparently. "NEKED!!??" she repeated. "What ARE you, hillbillies? Your FATHER is an ENGLISH teacher! The WORD is NAKED! Don't you EVER let me catch you saying 'neked' again! Do you UNDERSTAND this? And what in God's name? Sending your little brother out in the freezing cold! AND in the street! He could have been KILLED!"she looked at us all with a withering look. Marcus had been sent to bathe and get into his PJ's. "And let me tell you - you (she pointed at Robert) had BETTER give him his dollar!"

The lesson I mulled over that evening in my little attic bedroom was this. 1:don't sound like a hillbillie. 2: don't send your little brother into the street when it's freezing and he could get run over by a car. 3: don't welch on your bets.

A couple of weeks later, the week before Christmas, it happened.

Our little brother, Paul, got very, very sick. He had to go to the hospital. My brothers and my sister, Alice, were sent to Dona Hilda's in San Antonio.(our Cuban grandmother) My parents were at the hospital night and day. I was all alone. I was left behind 'to help'.
Mostly, I was just scared. I stayed up in my room reading Dickens every minute that I could.
Then, my father asked me to go and get a Christmas tree with him.

As we were getting our warm things on, he said to me very seriously,"Jennifer, your little brother might die."
I heard a catch in his voice, and I wanted to be so strong for him. I nodded, and tried to be brave like the heroes in my books.

We got the tree and brought it back home. Putting it in the stand involved some sawing, and some nails. We had the tree sort of hanging off the front porch, so that we could work on the bottom bit. I wasn't strong enough to hold the tree while my dad was trying to saw it straight across.
It went every which way.
"Damn it." my father said over and over again "Damn it to hell!"


Then it came to the part where we had to hammer some nails into it. I didn't know what I was doing.I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but I do remember this - I remember it so clearly that my face turns red just thinking about it. I did something wrong, and my father lost his temper on me. He lost it big time.
"No daughter of mine doesn't KNOW how to Hammer a FUCKING NAIL!" he yelled at me as he let lose and started whaling on me. His big hand landed across my face and just kept going. He pounded and pounded on me, yelling the whole time.I ended up curled in a ball, trying to protect myself, hiding my face from his blows. When he was done yelling , he picked me up and threw me across the yard.
I was no stranger to blood coming out of my nose from these kinds of incidents, or from my lips. But somehow, this one hurt worse. It hurt my heart worse. It was supposed to be Christmas. That was normally a happy respite in our house.
But there was also a part of me that just felt for him. I could tell how worried he was.He thought my baby brother was going to die. My mother hadn't been back for days from the hospital. Things must be pretty bad. And Paul was such a cute little boy. White blonde hair and brown eyes, such a sweet,sweet little angel of a boy.

That evening, my sexy, fun aunt Annie came over and rescued me. Everyone else was at the hospital. I was crying so hard - still - that I could hardly breathe. She ran her hand down my back and smoothed my hair.
"Oh, honey." she said. "They're all just so worried. They're worried sick. Look, why don't you and I go down and make some Christmas cookies, hu? We've got the kitchen all to ourselves...?"

Aunt Annie and I made Christmas cookies and listened to Joni Mitchell's 'Blue'. It was the night before Christmas Eve, and I kept breaking into tears as we made the cookies. The damn Christmas tree still wasn't up.

Eight years later, my little brother, Paul, died in a car accident.My mother was taking the younger kids to Santa Fe for Thanksgiving. The guy who was driving fell asleep at the wheel,Paul flew out of the car, and his neck was snapped instantly.

I was in Dallas with my new baby, Max.
I had woken up in the middle of the night to a horrible nightmare. Max's father said, "It's ok. it's just a dream. Go back to sleep."
Then, early the next morning, the phone rang.
I've always had this thing with phones.
As soon as I heard the ring - I was snapped back into that nightmare.
It was my beautiful Aunt Annie on the line. Before she could finish explaining what had happened , I let out a wail..."NOOOOO!" I screamed "NOOOOO!"

No. No. No. No. My little brother had made it through that horrible Christmas to become a strong, handsome, headstrong ten year old - only to be taken away on Thanksgiving a few years later.

Christmas is suicide season

Star Trek convention - Pasadena!

Ok. This one REALLY makes me smile. I mean really, really, really makes me smile. And not just because I just made myself a grilled peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich with toasted almonds that was OFF the HOOK and tasted like childhood if someone loved you a lot....this one just makes me smile ANYWAY.

It doesn't SEEM like it was that long ago. But I'm not so good with time.

I was still going out with Gideon, and despite his jealous tendencies, was falling more and more in love with him. He lived in this crazy apartment out in Highland Park - which sounds kind of nice if you don't know LA, but which, in fact is a bit barrio. Low rent. But not dangerous. It's a VERY hispanic neighborhood that is in a corner of LA that's ....just hard to describe. But it's right next door to South Pasadena. You cross the LA 'river' from Highland Park, and all of a sudden you are in Norman Rockwell territory. One block west is Highland Park - full of wild parrots, smells of Central America, and cars on cement blocks in the driveways, and odd little lime green colored businesses - and then if you go 1 block east, crossing the Arroyo Seco, you are in a primarily white, affluent conclave of liberal democrats in Craftsman style houses who also have wild parrots screeching from their trees.

I was accustomed to waking up in Gideon's apartment - a piece of a chopped up house with a music studio that he had built in the front living room - to hear parrots yammering, babies crying , and the smell of corn frying - even early in the morning. It felt like I was waking up in El Salvador or something. And I loved it. And in this apartment, I got the call about the Sci/Fi convention.

This time, it would be in Pasadena, not far from Gideon's place at all. I had made fairly good money doing the Vegas convention, and I did need the dough....plus it was in PASADENA. No need for a babysitter, or anything! And this time, the organizer assured me that I would be on the ...what IS it called? not a MENU...not a flier....uh...PROGRAM!!!! I would BE on the program! The last time, I wasn't, because it had all happened too quickly. This time I would appear on said PROGRAM - Jennifer Nash - who played Meribor.
"Ok, I'm in." I said to the guy on the phone. "But I'll need an extra ticket to the convention, in case I want to bring someone."

The weekend before the convention, Gideon pulled me aside to tell me something serious.
"I can't come with you." he said.
"Ok, Well, it's only Pasadena. Maybe Mark will come with me."
"Well, I need you to understand that I am recording all that weekend." he said.
"Ok. That's not a problem. I'll be busy anyway."
"But, you understand by now, Jennifer, that when I'm working with people in my studio, like this - recording new stuff - it could go all night. I mean, I don't know when we'll be done."
"Ok." I said, thinking it over. He was so SERIOUS. "Well, I guess it's a good weekend for that, then - because I'm busy anyway. I'll just sleep at my house."
"Well,I wasn't saying THAT." Gideon replied testily. I was starting to get confused.
"I'm not saying I don't want to see you ALL WEEKEND...!" he declared angrily. I was even more confused. I thought he wanted his space. You know, to work.
"Ok." said I. "What exactly DO you want?"
"Jesus, Jennifer!" Gideon exclaimed in a completely exasperated manner. He acted like I was an infant - incapable of understanding the most SIMPLE ideas. "I'd like to see you SOME of the time - I just wanted you to KNOW how it's GOING TO BE."
"Ok. Whatever you want." I said. I was completely in the dark...and starting to FEEL like an idiot, too. I didn't care. I could sleep there, or at my place. We saw each other all the time - it didn't matter. I respected that he had to work and he had this new musician he was excited about working with.I just wanted him to be happy, and I didn't quite know WHAT the hell he wanted.

So, I rang up Mark, my faithful gay husband, who was and is a BIG Star Wars geek. And THIS time, it was a Sci/Fi convention - less centered just on Star Trek, much more Star WARS action going on. I thought he'd be happy to come and keep me company. He was.

We got there bright and early Saturday morning, and made our way to my table. Mark helped me get everything set up (not much to set in my case - some of the other tables were REALLY elaborate)and we got comfy. At one point in the morning some guy came up, super excited to see me, and asked if i'd sign some plates.
"Plates?" I asked, looking at Mark.
"Oh my gosh, YES! ", the man drooled. "I own a shop in Florida, and these plates will quadruple in value if you sign them!"
Mark looked at me with suspision, "I didn't know you were on any PLATES." he said.
"Neither did I." I replied. "Maybe he thinks I'm someone else..?"
But, sure enough, the man came back a few minute later with PLATES.....with MY face on them! Not only my face - they were of my episode. It was pretty weird.

I sent Mark to get us some lunch from one of my favorite Thai places. A place that Gideon had introduced me to.As we were sitting behind my table, eating this amazing Thai food and watching all the weirdness go down, a very well dressed Japanese man came up to me looking as though he were scared to speak.
"Hi there!" Mark blurted out. He was already getting extremely high on all of the bizzaro fun, I could tell.
"Excuse me." the man said. He had a heavy accent. "Jennifer? Jennifer Nash?" he asked. Only it sounded like 'Jeneefur'
"Yes. That's me." I said.
"AHHHH - Meribor!" said the small and tidy man.
"YES!" said Mark in his big voice, "She played 'Meribor!"
"AHHH." said the man again. "I am so happy. So happy you here. I came for you."
I gave Mark a withering look so he'd be quiet. The man was very shy.I didn't want Mark to scare him.
"You came for ME? You mean for Star Trek, Next Generation?" I asked him.
"I TEACH you!" said the sweet little man.
I shook my head to let him know that I didn't understand.
"I TEACH college class - all about YOU! I teach college in Japan!" he explained eagerly. It still didn't make any sense.
"I teach class on 'Inner Light' - global warming, and love and human...you see?"
I was beginning to see.
"Are you saying that you teach a class on THAT EPISODE? A whole class about it?" I asked, looking at Mark. Mark just shrugged.
"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed "That is right! I teach class on 'Inner Light'! I came from Japan just for Meribor!" he pointed to my name and photo in the program to show me - as proof.

Well, you could have blown me over with a feather. I signed all of his photos, and took some with him - Mark thought it was all very amusing.
At one point, I sent Mark off to go and see all of the Star Wars people who were in a different room. He came back as giddy as a school girl.
"Peter Mayhew says he remembers you! He's going to come over to say hi!"

The afternoon proceeded with various hilarious intervals, and towards the end of it, a couple approached me that had met me in Vegas. They were clearly some hard core fans.

"Will you have dinner with us tonight?" they asked, "Some other Star Trek people will be there-we're going to a steak house that's really close by. We'd just LOVE it if you and Mark could both come!"

They had even asked about Gideon, remembering him from Las Vegas. Very sweet.
We all met in the bar. But I had to excuse myself for a moment to take a call from Gideon. He was acting a little crazy.
"Look, I just don't have time for you tonight, Jennifer." he said.
"Ok, That's fine. Mark and I are at the Hilton bar having drinks with some of the people from today. They've asked us out to a steak dinner. It's that couple we met in Vegas."
"And are you going? With these STRANGERS? I have to say, Jennifer, I didn't like the look of them in VEGAS."
"Yes. I think we're going." I said, out at the valet area, trying to keep my voice low.
"And you're at the BAR NOW?" Gideon said as though he didn't believe a word, "With MARK? GAY MARK is WITH YOU?"
"Yes. He is. And actually he's waiting,so I'll talk to you later, ok?"

I went back into the bar to find Mark happily holding court with a lively group. He leaned over and whispered to me as soon as I sat down, "I just peed next to Peter Mayhew and Kenny Baker - the guy who played R2 D2!!! AND one of my favorite droids was in there, too! It was SURREAL!"
No sooner had Mark had finished explaining his amazing urinal experience, then GUESS who burst into the bar? Yes. You guessed.

My very, very busy boyfriend, Gideon.
He dragged me out to the valet area and yelled at me for God knows what - I still didn't know what he was upset about. There I was! WITH my GAY FRIEND - that he knew very well. Knew he was GAY, for instance. I think I ended up just yelling "You're crazy!" at him and high-tailing it inside. I was starving, and it was cold out there.

I told Mark that I thought we were going to some cheesy steak house, like 'Outback' or something. WELLL....what I didn't know!
We ended up at one the most OVER THE TOP restaurants I have EVER been to. It was like the Belagio! We had a private dining room. Gene Rodenberry's grandson was at the head of the table. The drinks started flowing, and then the shrimp and the crab and the stuffed mushrooms, and all of these fancy appetizers.
"Are we PAYING for this?" Mark leaned over to whisper.
"I don't know," I whispered back, "The entrees are $65. How about we split one?"
"Fine by me." Mark said. "I'm pretty full already on all this amazing shrimp!"
The evening went by like some crazy, drunken movie scene. We weren't asked - or allowed -to pay for anything, and when it was time to drive home - I was so full I felt handicapped. I dropped Mark off from one of the most eventful of all our evenings together, and went home to roll around with a terrible stomach ache from the surf and turf and the decadent drinks and desert.

As I lay in my bed in misery, I thought, "Well, not everyone gets to have Gene Rodenberry's grandson give them a toast for their excellent performance. That's something."

the Star Trek conventions! first - Las Vegas.

The second time I went to Las Vegas was for a Star Trek convention. The first time I went there I was 15 years old, and it looked NOTHING like it does today. The first time I went was for "work" and was a horrible experience. I vowed NEVER to go back. But the convention organizers for the Las Vegas Star Trek convention talked me into it. They would give me a free room at the Hilton, where the convention was - and where (until recently) the 'Star Trek Experience' was. This was a pretty big phenom in it's day. 'Star Trek' fans got married there, people from all over the world came to have drinks in Quark's Bar&Restaurant that had crazy blue smoking drinks and looked like the ship in 'Next Generation'. Also, I think you could go through some kind of adventure in 'Deep Space 9'.
But I was too busy signing autographs to do any of that.

So, those who know me, know that I did an episode of 'Star Trek, Next Generation' when I was about 25. I had just had my oldest daughter, Izzy, 2 weeks before the audition. So I took her with me on the set - her and her wonderful nanny, Maria, and breast fed her whenever I could - on set and in my dressing room. I had this light beige silk costume that had been made for me - so it was REALLY stressful! I was terrified that I would leak milk all over that thing. The episode was called 'The Inner Light', and it was considered for a long time (maybe still is) the favorite of 'Next Generation' fans. Also a favorite of critics. I played Capt. Picard's daughter while he was living a whole other life through a probe. Pretty cool.

When the convention people called me up and asked if I was interested, I initially said no. But a couple of friends helped persuade me - and I figured it was at least good for a story. It's just that I had had SUCH a bad experience with Vegas. That was part of it. So, I asked my then boyfriend if he would come with me, and when he said yes, I jumped on board the convention train!

My boyfriend at that time was Gideon. A music producer and sound supervisor for big reality TV shows. He is one of the smartest and most talented men I have ever met. And he was in the process of OPENING my mind up.

Right outside of Vegas, the dread building in my stomach, he asked to take some pictures of me. It was 'golden hour', and the light was doing wonderful things.
"No, Gideon!", I said, in typical fashion, "I HATE getting my picture taken."
"Will you not admit, here and now, that I have taken some great pictures of you?", he demanded.
"Yes. But bad ones, too. I don't look very pretty right now. We've been in the car for hours."
"You look beautiful as ALWAYS," he growled, "and if you let me take this damn photo, I promise it will be the best one you've ever taken. I swear."

I reluctantly let him take a photo of me in front of a GIANT miner. A statue of a miner that looked like a mini-golf statue on steroids. A couple of weeks later, when he had developed it in his unique way, I was astonished to see that it WAS the best photo of me ever taken. The very best. After we broke up - some time after - we met at a tiny, hidden bar on the East side and he gave me the photo, framed. It's on my wall now. But no-one ever notices it, because it's in a dark hallway.

So, the next morning, I got dressed in my favorite red dress, and went down to the convention floor as instructed. I was placed behind a big long table with piles of photos from 'The Inner Light' to sign, and I found myself right next to a legend. It was Chewbacca! Ok,not really CHEWBACCA - but the actor that played him. Equally as exciting. Peter Mayhew was a solid veteran of these conventions, and was very sweet and informative to me.
Gideon came down with me, too, and hung out for a while before he got bored. He took more photos - of me with all kinds of Aliens and monsters. He was a jealous guy, but I think he was soon satisfied that the demographic of fans at a Star Trek/sci-fi convention weren't immediately threatening in that way.

Although - I have to say, the fans were all over the place. There were young and old, families, couples, gangs of men, people in costume, people in hippie attire. Throughout the day I was constantly entertained and wondered, "What is the the common thread between all of these people who have paid a lot of money to come here and get all of these photos signed, or have their photo taken with these actors?"

The fan I remember the most was this woman who was from some tiny, rural place in Oregon. She was a bit hippy-mamma in her dress, overweight, glasses, and VERY sincere. She burst into tears the moment she saw me. I mean SOBBING. And, yea. That would be funny, if it weren't. It wasn't exactly sad, either. I don't know. Obviously, this woman is still puzzling me to this day.

"Oh my God, it's YOU!" she said right before she burst into tears."I can't BELIEVE you're HERE!", she went on.
I looked over my shoulder to see if it was really ME she was talking to or about. She was acting as though I were a long-lost relative or best friend.
"MER - I - BOOOR.." she sort of heaved out in gasps through the sobbing.
"Yes." I said timidly. "I played Meribor." (that was my character's name)
Peter Mayhew gave me a look as if to say, "Yep, that's how it is sometimes."
"I just can't BELIEVE you're HERE." the woman said again, "You just DON'T underSTAND"..she half collapsed, leaning heavily on the table that I was behind. I gave her a minute to get herself together, looking at Peter for reassurance. He nodded at me.
"It's my FAVORITE episode!" she said presently. "My very FAVORITE one. And this is the first one I've been able to come to - I saved all my money to come here - it's my first one! And YOU'RE HERE!! I just can't BELIEVE it!"
Once she had calmed down,and after she had related her life story as it pertained to Star Trek, she asked for a signed photo, and asked if she could have her photo taken with me - just like everyone else, mostly. I really had a bit of a challenge letting go of that whole 'i hate having my photo taken' thing....because that's all I did all day.

At the end of the day, I concluded that 'Star Trek' fans did, indeed, have ONE thing in common. And it's not that they're all dorky, or lonely. Not at all. In fact, I was kind of surprised that quite a few really hot guys made their way over to my table by the end of the day. And THAT reminded me of Jeff Forrester's God-like brother coming to one of my Halloween parties years ago with his hot friends, all dressed in original Star Trek uniforms and playing with their lasers and tasers all night. No. The thing I thought that they all had in common, was a certain idealism. Each and every fan I met in those 2 days in Vegas was as sweet as could be. And every fan that I spoke with seemed to have an idea that the world could be a better place.

That night, Gideon and I got into a terrible fight. It was about hookers. He thought they should be legal, and I thought his views were awful. The fight ended up with me bawling harder than my ardent fan - right in a public place - in the old downtown area. I sat on a corner and sobbed until my shoulders were shaking. I was so upset. And Gideon was just CROSS with me. He knew he was right and I was wrong about this thing.

So, the next day, I didn't get down to the convention floor until very late. I almost didn't get to meet Shatner. But I did.

One of the organizers came over to me and asked if I'd like to meet him.
"Of course!", I said. Star Trek - reruns of the original one - were the ONLY TV shows I watched as a kid. I had been alternately in love with Captain Kirk and Spock throughout my whole childhood.
I was led to the back of a giant room. There was a long, winding line of people that led to this little booth-like place. A temporary booth that had been made of red curtains.I was pushed past the people in the front of the line into the interior of the red curtained booth. It reminded me of the 'man behind the curtain' in 'The Wizard of Oz'.

And there he was. Captain James T. Kirk. His eyes were only slightly puffier than mine were from crying all night.
"Well, hello there." he said as he lit right up from the sight of me. His expression changed in about a millisecond from bored as hell to downright sparkly.
"Look at this guy," I thought. "He's still got it."
Shatner shook my hand, then brought me in for a hug. A nice, tight one.
We exchanged some more chit chat, but I don't remember what we said. I was kind of in shock.

When I finally emerged from the both, all happy and dazed, Gideon was standing there with his arms folded over his chest.
"Well." he said, as though I were his errant child. "Was that fun? Did you meet him? Did he hit on you?"
I just looked at Gideon and giggled.
I went up to him and gave him a great big hug. And then a kiss. That question wasn't worth answering.I started to kiss his neck and then his ear.
"YOU are a VERY bad girl." he said."YOU are going to be spanked. Very badly. Because you're SOOO bad." he said this very seriously.
I kissed his neck some more, and then whispered in his ear, "I just met Shatner. Let's get out of here."
We threw our stuff into his beat up old volvo sedan, and drove back to LA.

I didn't think much more about 'Star Trek' until I got the call a year later to do the convention in Pasadena.

Sophie gets married to the Moon.

So, this is how my life is. Not then. Now.
This is just a normal story about a normal weekend in my life.

It was right before Thanksgiving - this last one, and my cousin , Bonnie, said she was coming out for a Moon Wedding. She asked if I would mind having her stay with me.
"Of COURSE not!" I easily replied. "I'd LOVE it!" ...and I WOULD love it. Bonnie and I are cousins that haven't had the opportunity to see each other very often. She runs an avant-garde theater in Austin, TX called 'The Vortex'. I started out as an actress doing almost ONLY very experimental theater.

So, she came out and stayed with us for this Moon Wedding.

"What the heck is a 'Moon Wedding'?" asked my daughter, Sophie.
"Well, I don't really know." I replied. "But the way Bonnie described it was that it's like a theater piece - but it's also a real wedding where people that call themselves 'eco-sexuals' get married to the moon - as a sort of pledge, I think, to nature and all that stuff. Partly they're doing it because NASA has been bombing the moon to look for water, and it's a protest."

"Well who are THEY?", Sophie asked.
"Um...I'm not sure exactly - but the two main people that Bonnie knows are this lesbian couple and one of them used to be in adult entertainment, I think."
"You mean PORN?", asked Sophie.
"Yea. Like that."
She got quiet for a minute as she thought about this. Sometimes I think my kids just think I am SO weird. But for once - maybe SOMEONE - was weirder.
"Well, is this the cousin that's a witch?" Sophie asked.
"Yes. She's something like that. She has the theater. In Austin."
"Well, is she a REAL witch?"
"I think so. I think she's really important, actually. I think people fly her around the world to do seminars and stuff."
"Hmmm. What room is she staying in?" was Sophie's next question.
"I thought I'd put her in Blue's."

A couple days before Bonnie arrived, Sophie broached the subject again.
"Do you think I could go to this 'Moon Wedding'?" she asked.
"Well, I'll ask Bonnie. I think so."
"And could I bring a friend, or maybe two?"
"I'll check it out. I think so, we just have to get there early. She says it might be sold out. And everyone's supposed to wear purple."
"Oh! Please don't take this the wrong way, mom. But I was hoping you WOULDN'T come. Actually."

So, somehow - Sophie talked me into driving her and her cute friends to this Moon Wedding and dropping them off. Blue and I (her little brother) weren't allowed to come. For some reason, I didn't mind. Even though both Blue and I were REALLY curious to see what goes on at a 'Moon Wedding'. We stuck around for little and spied on the event before we left.
Sure enough, people of all ages, colors, sizes and styles were filing in - all dressed up in purple. Lots of them were dressed in crazy bridesmaid attire. Even some of the guys. One person was dressed like the bunch of grapes from the 'Fruit of the loom' commercials. Bonnie's friends looked AMAZING! The once-adult-entertainment-star had this CRAZY purple wedding dress on....and there was this other guy there dressed like a Southern Baptist preacher, in a white polyester suit. The whole thing was staged at the base of the mountains out in Alta Dena at this park-like ampitheater.

I guess the reason I didn't mind so much (that Sophie didn't want me to come), was because I was kind of thrilled that she was taking such an interest in something so cool. I mean, I thought it was a far better way to spend a saturday night than going to the mall or to see some stupid movie. And all three of these kids were really jazzed about it. All three of them looked beautiful in their purple outfits.

And when they all described the event to me later, it turned out to be even cooler than I imagined it would be.
They told me there was this guy, the guy in the white suit, who performed the ceremony, and preached a whole thing about non-consumerism. And he came with a whole choir to back him up. The three of them seemed very impressed by the non-consumerism sermon, and talked about it the whole way home.

I didn't have a whole lot of time to hang with my cousin, because she was really busy organizing this whole thing, but I was happy that she came out. Happy my daughter got married to the moon. Happy that Sophie has such cool friends. And now, when we're out and about and we see the moon clear up in the sky, or hiding behind the clouds (as it is tonight), Sophie looks up at it and says, "Hey, hubby!" ......it's pretty adorable.

the best Los Feliz pub crawl.

I'm sitting down to my computer tonight with small glass of Baileys on the rocks. I can't even remember the last time I had Baileys. And it's shocking how sweet it is. Oh well, desert.

My 17 year old daughter is always asking, "Why don't we have any Baileys?"
To which I always reply disdainfully, "Why WOULD we have Baileys?"
And then she says, "Because it's DEEEELICIOUS!"
She's pretty adorable.
So, I was in the market - the Albertsons in Los Feliz to be exact - and I saw Baileys on sale, it's Christmas time, and I had to go there. Thanks, Sophie. Thanks for the sugar injection. If I crash half way through this posting, you'll know exactly why.

But, tonight I am inspired to write about an old fling of mine. We never got to boyfriend/girlfriend territory - and that's ok. Now, for those of you who think of me simply as a mother-type, or "Aunty Jennifer" who cooks for you, pays for Dorasita to come and clean up after the parties around here ( I help! - most of the time) - well, you might want to skip this one. Because the thing is - I AM actually a whole PERSON.I have my own adventures, and have been this whole time. You guys know about some of them. But not most of them. Don't forget - I was a mother when I was younger than ALL of you - even Tess - so I wasn't about to let motherhood get in the way of my adventures.

A few years ago, I was still in full swing as far as going out and partying with my friends. The biggest thing that has changed in these last years, is that none of my friends want to go OUT anymore. My brother turns into a pumpkin at 11 pm on the dot. My best girlfriend got married and moved to the suburbs. If I want to see her - to catch up - I have to drive 35 minutes out of the city for a 30 minute coffee catch up with her DOG and her. And everyone knows that people come second to dogs and babies. That's just a fact. Even my once game gay-husband has to be DRAGGED out these days - and that happens once every 3 or 4 months. I guess that's all ok. Adventures change. But I do miss going out dancing.

Anyway - a few years ago, I and a gang of friends were out on a Saturday night doing a pub crawl. The Los Feliz pub crawl - pretty much the same one as in the movie, 'Swingers'.We were at our second pub of the evening (still one of my favorite dive bars) Ye Rustic. Actually, it might actually be called Ye Rustic Inn - but there is NOTHING Inn-like about it. It's just an old-school down and dirty dive bar with really good buffalo wings, despite the fact that it periodically gets shut down by the health department.

I was looking cute. I was feeling cute. And that was a small miracle, because it wasn't long enough after a certain horrible relationship had ended for me to feel FULLY back on my emotional feet. And I was out with a GREAT group of friends - who I miss horribly, by the way. I think Paul was there, and Alex, Mieke, Peter and possibly Kathleen. Maybe a couple more people - it was a nice gang of us. We had a table - a much coveted table - in the back room. And there was another gang back there that seemed on a similar mission. Get drunk, walk around Los Feliz and get into some trouble - make some memories.

Two of the guys in that other merry group stood out for being sexy and adorable. One was a tall skinny guy who looked like he MIGHT be gay, and the other one was my (now) friend, Mc Cartney. That's not his real name, but I'm calling him that because he actually LOOKS a LITTLE like Paul Mc Cartney, and was a little obsessed with Paul,the Beatles, and Wings.
Mc Cartney sauntered up to me at the bar, as I was fetching drinks, with his devil may care attitude.
"So what are you doing here?"he said, as if it were clever.
"Uh...probably the same thing YOU are. DRINKING..."I said back, laughing. What was I supposed to say?
"Yea, good point." he said. "Sorry. That did sound a little bone-headed." He smiled and shook his head, then flashed his super boyish and charming smile at me.
"OOOoooo!" I thought, "Let the games begin!"

For the next 45 mins or so we took turns flirting with each other and checking in with our respective parties. Mc Cartney's opening line was NOT representative, it turns out. He was clever and witty. And funny, and self deprecating. And boy did I need that bit of flirtation.So when our parties left and went in two different directions, I was a little sad. But what are you going to do? He was too young for me, anyway.

My gang walked down the street to the Good Luck bar. One of my favorites. And one of Vince Vaughn's favorites, too. There he was. Casually chatting with a male friend, having some cocktails, his long, long legs stretched out from the low banquette against the wall - no big deal.

The Good Luck Bar is really cool because they brought almost the whole thing there from China, piece by piece. It feels like you're in an Indiana Jones movie set when you're in there - except the crowd is just TOTALLY normal. That's the difference between Los Feliz/Silverlake and Hollywood. Hollywood night spots are expensive and hard to get into if you're not famous, and all the girls look like Paris Hilton want-to-be s, and they are ALL too damn crowded. 30 minute bathroom lines - that nonsense. Twenty dollar drinks. Not MY idea of fun. Los Feliz and Silverlake, on the other hand are fun and full of hipsters.

So, after a couple more drinks at The Good Luck bar, my party decided we needed to go another block down to the strip joint, Cheetas. Normally, I would have gone home at that point. I don't like strip joints. They depress me. But this group of friends convinced me that Cheetas was different - and after all, we were having so much fun! Off to Cheetas! Arm in arm, singing loudly and obnoxiously, we bustled into this strip joint.

I can tell you this about Cheetas. The drinks are dirt cheap. And it's really small, and the girls get to choose their own music - so it really is a different kind of vibe on a certain level. But then again, it IS a strip club. And the thing that depresses me most about those places is the MEN that go there. It was the same on this night.OUR bunch was loud and silly and having fun, but the men who were already sitting there, looked like freakish lost souls to me. And they behaved that way as well. The moment I was by myself for 2 seconds, one of those depressing freaks started hitting on me in a really creepy, aggressive way. I looked around for my friends, but they were nowhere to be found. Out smoking, or in the bathroom or something. And just when I was thinking that things might be turning the corner into scary-land, a familiar face popped into my eye-line. It was the tall, cute guy from Ye Rustic.

"Do you need a rescue, Miss?" he said discreetly. I shook my head vehemently, 'yes'.
"Well, hello there." said another familiar voice as Mc Cartney slid into the seat next to me. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Hey!" said the creeper behind me with the neck tats, "this your boyfriend or what?"
I looked at Mc Cartney and took a chance. "yes!" I said, and whispered to my new friend, "Kiss me. Right now. Please."
And he did.

McCartney started off with the obligatory kiss that one might grant a damsel in distress, but it quickly turned into a REAL kiss. And then more real kisses, and somehow we were making out in Cheetas. Some practically naked girl grinding around the pole on the stage above us, all covered with tats and so many earings and nose rings and belly button rings to Prince's 'Purple Rain'. It was kind of awesome. I had never made out with a total stranger in strip club before.

The agro guy left me alone after that, and all of us continued our awesome pub night.I was introduced to the tall cutey - who turned out to be a talented improv comedian with his own show, who also worked with Drew Carey and some MAJOR comedy people. Mc Cartney and I continued to flirt with each other and mingle with our respective friends, and at one point I found myself in the bathroom with a bunch of the dancers. The two prettiest ones started flirting with me big time, and asked me if I wanted a lap dance. I didn't. Not unless it was from McCartney. But I was awfully flattered.

As we were all saying our goodnights outside of the club, McCartney took me aside from everyone else and pushed me up against the wall.He kissed me for real this time, and it made me weak in the knees. No joke. He was SUCH a great kisser.
"Are you going to give me your number?" he purred at me. I nodded 'yes'. Of COURSE I was going to give him my number!
"Thank you for pretending to be my boyfriend in there." I said.
"No problem at all....I'd like to pretend that again sometime." He put his hand on my rib cage and pulled me towards him, kissed me again. Looked into my eyes."Mmmm.." He said in parting.

And that is just the beginning of that story. But the cops are parked in front of my neighbor's house again - and Tyler is making a huge ruckus getting a ladder out of my garage - so I'll just have to finnish this later.

Karma can be a bitch. (or BJ's not with AMP anymore)

A band we all know and love is playing the Key Club tonight. I guess I can name names now. It's been so long...
So, After Midnight Project (AMP) plays the Key Club tonight. I wrote about them in my first 2 blogs. They are opening for Everclear. Pretty sweet. And I might mention that they will be playing WITHOUT their old bass-player. You know that saying, "Karma's a bitch?" Well, sometimes it is.

A couple of years ago, my 'gay husband' Mark and I were discussing what we would be for Halloween. He was pretty sure he was going as an escaped convict, but I had NO idea what to be this particular year. And we had a REALLY fun night lined up. Mark started laughing his slightly maniacal laugh out of nowhere.
"You know what you should BE?" he asked.
"No. What?"
"I have SO GOT IT!" he declared triumphantly."The Kiss of Good Fortune!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. Sometimes Mark goes right off his rocker. Just as I do.
He could hardly stop laughing at his own brilliance and superior insight. "No!", he exclaimed, "I mean it! You know how you always date these guys that go on to being REALLY rich or famous AFTER you date them? Or, sometimes you don't even DATE them - you just KISS them or whatever! Do you know what I mean?"
"No. You're a lunatic." I said.
"Come ON! You CAN'T be serious! THINK about it! Well, let's name them, shall we?"
"I don't have the FOGGIEST idea what you are referring to.", said I in my most high and mighty voice.
"Well, you know how I'm always telling you that you should have married one of these famous guys, and then you wouldn't be struggling with money - and for SOME reason you insist on going out with the least attractive, practically HOMELESS jerks!"
"Yea, yea,yea. WHAT does this have to do with a costume?"
"Well...I'm just saying that you ARE the kiss of good fortune. Let me remind you. Matt Le Blanc, right? and Gary Kasparov - didn't he beat the computer AFTER you dated him? and started going on Letterman and all that? Christian Slater, Jim Carey, Joe Rogan...the list goes on and on!"
"I don't think I kissed Joe Rogan. He just showed me his perfect naked body. Hard-on included."
"What EVER. You get my point. And that guy from 'Flight of the '...that weird show! didn't you kiss HIM? RIGHT before they SOLD that show?"
"Yea. We made out. In the parking lot. That was nice."
"Well, that's what I'm saying! You should GO as The Kiss of Good Fortune!"
"I love that show."
"Ok, don't go and get all dreamy about that guy - you let him go. It's too late, now. But what do you think about the costume?"
"Yea, I think it's good."

So - that year I went as The Kiss of Good Fortune. I took an old,simple white dress and pinned all kinds of things all over it that symbolized good fortune. I had poker chips, money, fortunes from fortune cookies, condoms (they can be lucky), playing cards, and lots and LOTS of jewels,silver and gold dripping from all over...oh yes, and a rabbit's foot on my bejeweled belt. It was one of the best Halloweens ever. And that good fortune costume really worked out for me THAT night - but that's a whole other story.

But the thing is - it turns out I am an over-all luck magnet. Meaning, that the guys who have kissed me or dated me and been real solid jerks have gone on to have quite BAD fortune. I'm JUST sayin'....
And the most shining example of that is AMP's old bass player. Yes, I said old. As in he was too old for the band in the first place, and he is no longer WITH the band. In fact he is stuck in Canada with no green card or Visa. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I get a sort of evil "I told you so" kind of pleasure out of writing this. But before you judge me - maybe you should consider what he DID to warrant such bad luck.

WHAT HE DID: BJ (I'm calling him BJ for the purposes of this blog - he's so nasty, he might sue me) did these things. 1. he flirted with me like crazy when my sister wasn't interested in him. Then he called me all the way back to LA from Austin. That was actually really fun. The two of us were behaving like teenagers. 2. HE talked ME into getting serious with him - even though I knew it wasn't a good idea, and said so - a LOT. 3. Before I knew it, he had pretty much moved himself into my house - without asking. He just did it. He would bring more and more of his stuff every time he came over. And the sleepovers lasted for more and more days at a time. At the same time he was moving in, he was also acting like a homeless puppy, telling me that his "roomate" was completely phsyco and playing up the sympathy card. He pegged me for a sucker. And he was RIGHT. He immediately became BFFs with my tenant, and tried to be buddies with all my kids. Max saw right through him, though and would have none of it. 4. He used every personal thing I told him about myself or my past to make me feel crazy. He outright lied about his "roomate" to make his final push at moving in. Called me while I was in San Fransisco sobbing, saying she had pepper sprayed him in the face, and she wouldn't give him his cat, or his computer. Needless to say - I was a big softy. Not only did I let him move in (officially), but I BOUGHT HIM A CAR. That's right. That's my bad. A cheap car, but never the less. I was sick of him using MY car and getting tickets. And he made me feel so sorry for him, AND was always saying that I was the love of his life, and that he would pay me back as soon as the band started making money, etc., etc. - anyway. The car thing was on ME. I mean, he didn't hold a gun to my head or anything. 5. He bought me a horrible, cheap, cheesy gorilla from Right Aide for Valentine's day. I had to WORK over Valentine's day - had to drive to Texas - so he gave it to me to take on the trip - so I'd think of him. The gorilla had a rose in his mouth and was wearing a little tuxedo with a heart on it's lapel that said 'I WUV U'. I'm not kidding. 6. WHILE I was driving to Texas for work - to support US - he wasn't paying any rent or for groceries or anything OF COURSE (I think you got that by now) - he brought a girl to MY HOUSE on Valentines Eve and screwed her HERE. IN MY HOUSE. While I was in Texas with that stupid gorilla. She slept over. He took her to breakfast the next morning.He found the money to pay for that. 7. How do I know this? Because she called me months later. When he was on tour - but I thought we were still going out. That girl called me, and the "roomate" called me. He had been screwing both of them. No wonder she pepper sprayed him. 8. When these two ladies called me and told me the whole deal (they were both REALLY pissed at him as you can imagine - he actually played this half-written song for ALL of us and said that he was writing it 'just for you, baby'....you have to admit that's pretty DAMN funny in hindsight!) they also told me he was engaged to be married. They let me know that the day after he came to my house, PICKED ME UP and swooped me into my bedroom to make love to me, he did NOT go back to Canada to see his dad that was recovering from a heart-attack as he claimed - he ACTUALLY got on a plane to some bum-fuck state to go RING SHOPPING with his fiance. The 22 yr. old fiance who was going to marry him quickly so he could get a green card. 9. are we on 9? yes. 9. He never apologized, paid me back for the car, or for any of the other money he borrowed. ...10!!! I almost forgot this one!!! Blanked it out, more like - because it does NOT make ME look good, either. He got into a FIGHT with my son - Max - at South by Southwest in Austin. A fist fight. For no reason. Except that I think BJ just KNEW that Max was on to him, and he didn't want anyone ruining his meal ticket. That's a BIG 10. That was the beginning of the end. And I KNOW what you're thinking! It should have been the END END. The END of all ENDS!

So...that's pretty much what he did in a nut-shell. I can't BELIEVE I'm telling you this - it makes me look SO stupid. But I WAS so stupid. The thing is - or was - that I just can't IMAGINE doing anything like that to someone. So, I couldn't imagine that he would do it to me. He was a really good bass player. And he used to pick me up all the time, like I was a princess.But that's about all I have to say that's good about him.
It wasn't too long after he did all those terrible things to me that he was dropped from the band, and stuck in Canada. I guess his green card relationship didn't work out.

And that's why I think I might be a luck magnet. I never DID anything to get revenge. I never TRIED to screw him up after that in any way. Ok, I did put that stupid gorilla in a plastic bag and tied it up tight, thinking it might work as a voodo doll...but other than THAT!

And tonight, Max is going to see his buddies in After Midnight Project, and Everclear at the Key club - where they ALWAYS sound GREAT - and Mr. Bad, Bad bass player is stuck up in the frozen tundra.He HATES the cold. He's probably playing with a cover band in some grungy bar.Or maybe he's with some great band - who knows. Who cares. All I know is that I am NEVER buying a guy a car again, and all of the people that didn't behave like a jerk-hole are here - careers climbing in sunny California.

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WICKER brawls in the Big Apple!

Ok. Back to WICKER in NYC.
So this was an EVENTFUL trip.
Here's what happened.

The first night, Max and the band went to dinner with 'the label'. So Izzy and I joined forces with Jeremy and his wife, Dana. Odd foursome, really.We had dinner together while Jeremy was obsessing over some football game he had money on in his office pool. Mr. Normal Guy. I mean, who do we know who even GOES to an office - let alone has money in an office pool??!!! It was really fun, though. And at dinner, Jeremy and Dana told us about this place they went to that was like an old fashioned speak easy.
"You have to call and make reservations at 3pm - and it's really popular, so we had 5 people all calling at once. Then you go to this hot dog place - this tiny hot dog joint - that smells amazing - and you call a number in an old school pay phone - you know, in a booth, and a secret door opens up in the back of the booth and lets you into this secret bar!" Jeremy explained.
"Yea. I don't believe you." Izzy said. "You go THROUGH the PHONE BOOTH?"
"YEA!" Jeremy declared as Dana shook her head,'yes'.

So they took us there. Izzy and I waited in this tiny hot dog joint, not buying anything - we had just eaten - until some woman finally came in, and after a couple of failed attempts, was ushered through a secret door in the back of an old school phone booth - just as Jeremy had described. The bar - the SECRET bar is called PDT - stands for Please Don't Tell. I can't remember what the hot dog place is called - but it looked pretty darn good on it's own.

The second night in the big old crazy prohibition obsessed Apple was the showcase. WICKER playing downstairs from Dashboard Confessional at Webster Hall. It looked grim at first, audience- wise, but soon enough, our people started flowing in. And one in particular who we all thought was MIA - Uncle B. Founder and Godfather of WICKER. I was so damn mad at him right up until he walked through the door. I mean - how could HE miss it? Uncle B and max were the ORIGINAL 2 founders, writers, homeboys of WICKER - back when Max was just a puppy - a teenager. Uncle B is MY age. He doesn't act it (nor do I for that matter) - but he is. And without Uncle B all those years of month long and 3 month long and 6 month long visits playing and writing with Max on the sunporch...WICKER might never have been born.
But he did come. Sauntered right in with his pretty girlfriend which made me scream in happiness! I knew damn well what a source of good energy he would be to Max especially.

Then Doug came. Cousin from my X's side. Great, cool guy - East Coast business style. And Tweak came - another scream from me. An x-boyfriend of mine that I love to death - AND a great musician. Then Lauren, and Lo-lo, and Janine! And fans, and friends, and Jeremy's cousins, and Zoe, and Jive people, and lawyers....the place was filling up. It was good. None of us knew what a WICKER crowd in NYC would look or feel like - they've built up a STRONG following here (LA), but this was really their first show on the East Coast. And, the thing is - when you've already sold out the House of Blues in LA, and have TONS of jumping,dancing singing fans that know ALL the words to all the songs - it can be really different in a new city.

But you know what? The weird thing is that the crowd in NYC was pretty similar to the crowds here. Not as big (of course) - and lots of people didn't know any of the songs - but I have to say that the WICKER crowd is an awfully good looking one. There are always just GREAT looking people at his shows. LOTS of HOT girls wearing very nice things....it's a fashionable crowd. I always take a look at that at concerts. Don't you?
Like, for instance, my X-husband and I used to be really amused at all the Elvis Costello concerts, because so many guys came wearing those thick rimmed black glasses - that crowd had a very definite LOOK. As do goth crowds, etc. WICKER's crowd is pretty unreasonably GORGEOUS. The young ones, the old ones, guys and girls - you look around the room and the show looks like it's been cast for a video or something.

OK. So - the show went well. Really well. They sounded great, they looked great, 3 lawyers came up to me afterwards and shoved cards into my hand saying they wanted to represent my kid.
"How do they even know who I am?" I wondered. I'd never met any of those people.

A group of up to 30 people all wanted to hang out - get drinks and a bite - after the show. So we walked down the street en-mass, looking for a place that could take us all. Burt (the band manager) found some joint advertising cheap shots, and I ducked in first because I really had
to pee. When I came out, after waiting in line, etc - a huge fight seemed to have broken out between our party and the GIANT bouncer at the place. I came out to see Tyler's petite and gorgeous mother being held back by her son from pummeling this giant black man! Then Step was yelling at him. Then Tyler. Then the police came.
Tyler's mom, Kim, was still yelling "You don't hit a GIRL, you fucker!" and things of that nature as the police moved in. Then Tyler was being held back from punching the guy. I didn't know what had happened - but the police were instantly on the bouncer's side and told us move along.

As Izzy and I walked down the street with the gang of people - the entourage - it was explained that this bouncer had grabbed Step by his neck and thrown him out over a misunderstanding, had bullied Max, and finally had pushed this tiny little girl in her FACE. Crazy.

Three bars and lots of Ray's pizza later, I found myself sitting next to another lawyer who told me he wanted to represent Max and WICKER. He must have talked to me for an hour - maybe more.He told me he came up to Max right after the show and said, "Whose dick do I have to suck to represent this band?"
Max said, "Mine."
It must be so much more fun to be a music lawyer than so many other kinds. Just to SAY stuff like that and it's perfectly in step with everything in that world.

We were out until 4:30 or 5am. It was really fun. Really,really,really fun.

When the boys got back to their hotel room - the Sheraton at Times Square - they had a little surprise waiting for them.

There was a 6ft, 4 naked man in Tyler's bed. No one they knew.
The guy was BEYOND drunk. Believe me - I've seen the footage. Max filmed the whole thing.
He wouldn't leave, and was being a little crazy - so Tyler punched him in the mouth. The guy tried to swing back, wouldn't put his clothes on - and as they were calling hotel security, he wandered out into the hallway in is birthday suit, bleeding all over the place.

It turns out, the guy was a Rhode Island detective, and it was all the hotel's fault that he was in there, drunk and naked. Hotel SECURITY had given him the key to Tyler's room. In that super drunk condition. They didn't ask for his ID or anything. Crazy.

And one of the best parts of the whole trip (for me) was the text I got from Izzy when I was at JFK waiting to board my flight home. It said, 'I love you so much,mamma. You are the coolest,grooviest,hottest mamacita around! remember that! safe flight.'

Needless to say, I will never erase that text.

sobbing, bawling - Bette Davis' fault.

My intention was to get back to writing about WICKER in the big Apple...but things happen.

Nothing big happened tonight. I just got an e-mail that let me know I've lost a friend that I thought I'd reclaimed after a very long time. And my "gay husband" came over for a late supper. Step, and Max and Tess and I had already eaten - I was super flattered because Tess liked my quiche - and she doesn't like EGGS. (Step - otherwise known as 'puppy'- is Max's DJ and long time friend). And then Mark came over for a late bite.

Mark is my "gay husband" # 2. And by that, I mean that he is gay, a very good friend, and he helps me with my life and has stuck around longer than most of the straight men in my world. He is a VERY tall, handsome man who is a good babysitter (most of the time) and good at shopping and putting Ikea furniture together. He is also good at gardening. And decorating. And eating my food. But he can be a little mean.

For instance, he is always joking around and insinuating that I'm so old. Even when we met 10 years ago, and I wasn't yet.

What ever. If I could meet a straight guy who teased me about that and was as nice as Mark, and as loyal - I'd just be in heaven. One time, we were out at a fancy restaurant with some friends and this lady came around with roses to sell. No guys ever buy those roses, and if they do - you always think they're cheesy for doing it. But this night, Mark and I were the singletons among a bunch of couples, and I bought him a rose. I declared my love for Mark loudly. Fuck those singletons. They were acting as if they were SOOOO superior - all ready for Noah's ark. Mark may have been embarrassed, but if he was, he didn't show it.

Tonight, we ducked into the front room and watched 'Now Voyager'. An old black and white Bette Davis flick - and I won't give away the movie, in case you haven't seen it - but it left me in tears. Ok, not in tears as much as BAWLING - crying and sobbing LOUDLY at the horrible ending. God, it's terrible. It's that famous line "Why should we reach for the moon when we have the stars?" - THAT'S THE LAST LINE!!!!! of the WHOLE MOVIE!!!! It's SOOO horrible!! Well, you just watch it - maybe it's where I'm coming from. It is most certainly where I'm coming from. For a few minutes there, I thought I wouldn't be able to stop. That I'd just be on a terrible crying jag for the whole night. Something inside of me exploded when I heard that last line. And the thing is - I'm not in a bad place, emotionally. I didn't think I was. I just came back from the BEST trip in the world - and feeling so loved by my wonderful kids.....BUT WHO ENDS A MOVIE THAT WAY!!!!??????

I don't know. I guess the bottom line is that I'm made for love. And although I have the mother/ child kind of love in spades - something is missing. Days and nights go by, and I just feel fine - and then some stupid song comes on the radio, or some MOVIE with a FUCKED UP ENDING like that, and I remember that I am .....well, you get the picture.

For tonight.....I am unglued.
For tonight I am going to bed with a huge void.
For tonight, even surrounded by the best people, I am alone.

WICKER in the Big Apple!

Sorry. I owe you a posting on this latest adventure. I've been busy - cleaning house, and looking for rabbits to pull out of hats.
Today, I'll be busy, too. Because Santa Claus, in the form of my brother, has just delivered a ton of groceries, and I'll be getting busy making apple pies and quiches. Lots of them - some to give away as Christmas presents. (yay!) I'm calling this sweet and random act 'Santa' because my brother, Marcus, got all of this beautiful produce from the shoot he just finished working on - and I happen to be broke beyond belief just in time for Christmas - to the point where I am worried about groceries for the rest of the month.So his arrival this morning, little Madeline (his 1 yr old daughter) in tow, with armfuls of pineapples,oranges,bananas,apples,eggs,potatoes and onions was a little Santa miracle. I had NO business spending money on a trip to NYC right now. But I'm glad I did it.

My son's band, WICKER, was flown out to NYC and put up in a hotel by Sony/Jive music in order to play a showcase for their East Coast people who had never seen the band perform live. The drummer's dad, Mitch, sent me a link for $200 round trip tickets and I was on board. My daughter is in college there, too, and I was dying to see her - check out her dorm and friends, the whole nine yards. Turns out, I got a VERY close look at her dorm and friends - I ended up sleeping there.

The rickety single bed in a tiny room of cement block walls took me screeching back to my dorm room at Interlochen. Izzy (my daughter), shares a "suite" with 3 other girls - just like we did at IAA in TJ (our dorm building). And the other memory that was so present for me was actually VISITING a friend of mine when I was her age at that SAME building. As soon as I saw the outside of her dorm - a flood of NYC memories rushed over me. Being so cold my first winter there - visiting people like Brad and Emily - or Stuart in their dorm rooms so I could get WARM. The dorm buildings were always kept obscenely warm. And still are.

The band and I arrived at JFK at roughly the same time, so we shared a car service into the city. Met up with Izzy and Max's long time friend, Jeremy and his wife at the band's hotel - the Sheraton. As soon as I saw Izzy's reaction to seeing us all - up in the hotel room - I knew I had done the right thing by coming.

My daughter, Izzy, is so beautiful. She is a petite little thing with very dark hair these days (she dyes it dark). She arrived with big, beautiful cat eyes, red lipstick and lots of sparkles shimmering on her pretty face.
"Momma!" was the first yelp of delight out of her mouth when she walked in the door and threw her arms around me. She held on to me so tightly it broke my heart into a million pieces. If you are a mother, or a father, you know there are no words to describe that feeling that comes from such uncensored love from your child. I was bursting with pride for her and aching with love and gratitude for such love from a brilliant creature. I stopped myself from crying, but just barely.
"Max!" was her second cry. Arms flung around him. Happy laughter. Then, one by one, hugs for all of her "brothers".
The band, WICKER, is made up of extraordinary lads. They are all crazy good looking, talented and KIND. The love of these young people that surround Max - and our whole family - is something to be treasured. And I do. I treasure it beyond belief. Meaning, I find it hard to believe that I am surrounded by such wonderful and beautiful artists all the time. They make up a huge part of my life. Some of them have gone on to be movie stars (and I actually mean, like, HUGE movie stars), some have already begun fun and successful businesses, some are fashion or jewelry designers, some are still struggling to get their careers off the ground - as Max and WICKER are ....but they all love each other and are loyal to a degree that is VERY, VERY rare these days.

And this is how the New York trip was. My friends, their friends, fathers, mothers, cousins, and uncles (and fans) - all coming out to support and play with a band that they deeply believe in and love.

to be continued...later, when my whole house smells like apple pie.

back from NYC...(or - Tess and Max handle the mouse)

This will be a VERY short post. Chris Earl is right. I do over punctuate. I'll work on that. And capitalize too many things, except when I'm supposed to.

This will be a very short post because I am so tired I can hardly see straight.
I've just gotten home from 3 of the wildest and most fun nights that I have ever had in my very favorite city. The great big apple. The great and wonderful New York City.

I saw my son's band play a great show (the reason for the whole trip), and had the most fun you can imagine with my two oldest children and their friends, and my friends - both very old friends and new ones. My past and present and future seemed to collide into one great big whirlwind of experience.

I left New York from this trip sort of blissed out, and beyond proud of ...well.. I guess of all of us. Of Max, and Izzy, and the band, and the other parents that flew out for the showcase, and even of myself. What a life I've managed to concoct for myself. What brilliant, shining stars my children are, and what great friends I've made over the years and managed to hang on to, or find after losing them.

My daughter calls me a gypsy. My sister calls me a pirate. My brother says I can pull rabbits out of hats.

They are all right.
And that's not even the half of it. But the thing that people don't realize, is that pulling rabbits out of hats and being a gypsy-pirate is very hard work. Max knows all about this. Or at least is starting to. For instance, tonight, when we got home - the house smelled like gypsy-pirates had pulled a DEAD rabbit out of a homeless person's hat and stuffed it under the couch. In fact, our very own gypsy cat had killed a mouse and hidden it under the couch. What a pleasant thing to come home to. After you've been partying like a rock star. That will really bring you down to earth.

The mouse is cleaned up, with great team work from newly blonde Tess and Max. They were very kind to handle that one for me. And the kitchen is cleaned up. And the house smells much better. And I am dead tired. Time for me to take a long,long hot shower - wash the sleezy film from the guy who was jerking himself off in the subway while staring at me a couple of hours ago - curl up in my gypsy bed, and (hopefully) fall asleep to BBC news. More on the fabulous WICKER New York adventure tomorrow.

"It's a STORM, Joe!!!!!!!"

Events have conspired against me to inspire me to write about Joe.

I don't remember how i first met Joe. There was so much going on at LAMDA, and I was the most overwhelmed 21 yr old mother on the planet. There was checking in to do, finding temporary digs so you could then go out and want to kill yourself as soon as you realized how EXPENSIVE it was to live in London in 1987. ESPECIALLY if you were unlucky enough to be an American with USA dollars to exchange. And, of COURSE, all such financial stress was upped quite a BIT if you were there as the single mother of a one year old, AND supporting and pay-rolling a NANNY. No matter that he was a game, young, gay man who wasn't charging MUCH....it was another person to FEED!
So...there was a LOT going on in my head when i first arrived at LAMDA. i was staying in a "hostel" with one room and one very long SINGLE bed WITH both Max and Nanny. Good thing the Nanny and I were so VERY thin back then. We'd get back to the "hostel" at night - after searching for apartments, or doing things at school, or both - and have to squish a sleeping Max around a BIG line of hookers and johns that filled the narrow stairwell starting at about 7pm. SCARY.

What i do remember is that SOMEHOW I convinced Joe to move to the country with us, and share rent on a great big house 45 minutes outside of London by train. What can i say? I've always been a little bit of a Diva - but this was more than that...it was really about feeling that Max would be safe - and not have the worst time in the world, either. And it WAS brilliant.

I found a BEAUTIFUL, giant house down in Eltham, an hour door to door from school. And if the rent was split into 3 - we'd all be paying the same or less than a complete crap-hole in the city. The house was down a beautiful lane. it backed up onto a golf course - had a VERY deep back yard, with an apple tree, and gooseberries. The house came FULLY furnished - down to the pots and pans,silverware,etc - how PERFECT for a little (strange) family!!!
And Joe was brave enough to move right in with us. It was Max and I, and the Nanny (Tony- I'm pretty sure)and Joe. Joe Alessi, the Sicilian, Northern English man with a fantastic accent, the warmest heart, and the MOST patient soul.

We would get home from school, after these BEATING days - such hard work, and so physical...so much on the line, as well - and we'd get home after those crazy hard days, after a LONG commute home ( we were always scared we'd fall deeply asleep on the train and miss our stop), Joe would pick his energy back up - it even LOOKED like he was literally bending down to pull new energy from the earth - and play a rousing game of 'bang on all the pots and pans' with Max before i moved the little one towards bathing, reading and bed rituals.
And then, half the time it seemed, Joe would be cooking 'a little something' up for dinner. The house would start to smell delicious as i read Max his bed-time stories. Sometimes it made Max squirm and NOT wanting to go to bed. "Want!" he'd say and point his adorable little hand towards the door. He could tell that something fun was going to happen without him. He was right. So, I usually laid down next to him until he was all the way asleep. I figured it was the least I could do after dragging him halfway across the world. Max never went to sleep alone when he was a toddler.
But when I got the chance to slip out from Max's little arm, I would gently sneak out of the door, close it most of the way, and tip toe downstairs to see what Joe had made. It was almost always Italian, and it was ALWAYS really good. Sometimes it was just Joe and I, and sometimes (more often) it was the three of us. Joe, Tony and I. And I'll tell you - there was just something so great about that. About that time - that other life that I - that we all lead - but only for a few months. I felt like some kind of royalty with Joe and Tony around. Or some kind of very elite artists. It just felt like we were all so clever and young and good looking - and pulling off this fake but awesome family thing. There was definitely a bit of 'House playing" going on , if you know what I mean. But it was great.

Joe and I were on our way. We felt it. We knew it. we were on our way to being actors. The real deal.LAMDA - the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art was felt to be the best of a very small number of GREAT acting schools in the world. We were in good hands.
And Tony, well, Tony felt great about himself, too. He was from a very poor family. They were Catholic, and just stretched too thin. LOTS of siblings. Italian family. And for him, it was a dream adventure - quite a lot earlier than he thought he'd get it. He would stay on after LAMDA and then get a chance to see more of Europe. And he did get to leave for the weekends - he had love affairs all over England, and great traveling adventures.

Well, Joe will have to help me remember the date, but at some point after we had all been happily playing house together for awhile, Tony was gone on a small trip, and Joe and I were at the house with Max on our own. Max slept in my room with me - most nights in my bed- and Joe was down a short hall from us. The master bedroom that I'd taken for myself was beautiful - most of the wall space covered with these odd fold-out cupboards made from blonde wood. AND a king size bed - which was awfully nice when Max wouldn't sleep in his own bed!

On this night in question,Joe made us 'a little something' for dinner.
"Joe.."I said appreciatively, as soon as I'd snuck downstairs.."It smells SOOOO good. I didn't realize how starving I was." and that was almost ALWAYS true at LAMDA for me. I was ALWAYS starving....I just forgot about it sometimes when I was lucky.
"Oh, It's nothing." said Joe, in his lovely northern accent. "It's just 'a little something' I whipped up.." and a sly smile came over his face as he realized that I was trying not to laugh about his 'a little something'
"well, it just so HAPPENS, my friend, that 'a little something' was just exactly what I have been hoping and praying for."at which saucy statement, Mr. Alessi promptly trounced me with his kitchen towel.
"AH! Be nice to the cook, dearie, or you don't EAT!"

As we ate and laughed and drank a bottle of wine (that I had NO idea where Joe got the money to buy), the sky raised her voice as if to match and surpass our own howling laughter. The rain turned into pouring rain. The distant thunder and lightening crashes turned into VERY CLOSE sounding thunder and lightening crashes.
We laughed our last 2 tired laughs as the rain seemed to subside with us. AH - we were ALL going to bed. What a fun night!

And then, 2 hours later, I was awoken from a sound sleep by my bedroom. It was possessed! The shutters were coming to life and threatening me, the cupboards were opening and slamming shut of their own volition, some damn ghost was HOWLING through the windows in the most horrifying manner! I was too scared to move - but I HAD to! I'd seen a couple of those movies - I had to secure the window! So the ghosts or witches couldn't come in! I couldn't let them get MAX!!!!!

I felt like I was getting BLOWN OVER as I made my way to the window, shutters flapping and ripping about every which way...I pinned them down when i got close enough, so they wouldn't come flying into my face. And I looked out the window.

There it was.

The biggest storm England had felt in a hundred years or something crazy. It looked like the tornado in 'The Wizard of Oz'. That's exactly what it looked like - and I PANICKED.
The shutters were fighting me as if they were alive - so I let them go and RAN to Joe's room, pounding on his door and yelling, "Wake UP, JOE!!! It's a storm! It's a STORM, JOE!!!!"