The Economic Crisis

Okay, I'm going to weigh in with my two cents on the current economic crisis.

Anyone who says they couldn't see this coming wasn't paying any attention. The housing market was so artificially inflated that it was silly. Houses in my mom's neighborhood were selling for $280k. These are forty-five year old, twelve hundred square feet track homes people. Now the two foreclosures next door are selling for $99K. And I don't think it's hit rock bottom yet.

Here is how I see it happened. Greed, pure and simple. Oh, everyone can tell you that it wasn't, that it was just people wanting the "American" dream, to own their own house. Just like in the 1950's. But it isn't true. People wanted BIG houses, then BIGGER houses. The average home size in the 1950's was 1,100 square feet. The average home size today is 2,342 square feet. With smaller families than there were in the 1950's. And people were determined to get the BIGGEST home they 'could afford' even if that meant an "interest only" or 'adjustable rate' mortgage, with the 'knowledge' that home prices would rise and they could re-finance and take out their equity and buy an even BIGGER house. But that's a little like taking your paycheck to the casino to bet it all on red. The house always wins. Yes, some people may come out ahead but most people are going to lose it all. But greed drove the market.

I'm not just blaming individuals. It's the fault of greedy mortgage brokers who pushed through half-million dollar loans for people who made $12.75 an hour. It's the fault of greedy real estate agents who sold houses that cost too much to people who they new darn well couldn't afford it. It's the fault of greedy Wall Street brokers who bought all those 'mortgage backed securities' and packaged them again and again, knowing full well that they were faulty to begin with.

Now the taxpayers of this country are being asked to kick in $700 BILLION dollars to bail out all of these greedy people. I'm kind of ticked off about this because I wasn't one of the greedy ones. No one in my family was. My mom could have sold her house and bought a bigger one but she didn't because she owns her home, free and clear, and she knew it was smarter to have no payments than to buy a giant house and owe hundreds of thousands of dollars. But she and I and you will be paying for that greed anyway. Not fair, but as my dad used to say, nothing in life is fair.

The reason given for this bailout is to stabilize Wall Street and keep the U.S. economy strong. There are guys much smarter than me that think this is the solution and without talking to them face-to-face, I can't really argue that they are wrong. But I do know this...if the American economy fails, the whole world falls. It is in the best interest of the entire WORLD to keep America strong. Because all of those growing economies like China and India will have no one to buy all of the goods and services they sell. America consumes eighty percent of the world's goods. Without our consumption, the rest of the world's economies fail too. Simple math. We can't support the rest of the world if we have no money.

I think there will be a lot more stability once the election is over. No matter who wins, people will be able to see who the leader of the free world will be. Housing prices will eventually bottom out and people will be able to afford houses again. Of course, it will be tougher to get a loan but that's how it was for our parents who needed things like down payments and proof of income. And maybe we will learn the lesson that wanting the dream is fine, we just need to be realistic as to what that dream should be. You don't NEED a McMansion and a gas guzzling Hummer. Buy what you can afford. Save for a rainy day. Sure, it isn't much fun, but neither is a foreclosed house and a bad credit rating.

Prepping the Pilot

We are gearing up for full production mode for the "Vegas Schmegas" pilot that we start filming on November 1st. We have the final table read this Saturday. Some of the biggest production tasks are taken care of, like the motel we are shooting exteriors at (thanks Irwin!) and the insurance bonds we need (thanks ProWerks!). We still have a few more to nail down, like renting a poker table and renting a convertible (anyone out there have a white or black convertible they want to loan for two scenes?) I also have to get myself a dominatrix outfit. Yes, I know, it won't be pretty but that's kind of the joke. I have been web surfing to find something that I won't die of embarrassment wearing but a lot of things are expensive and even if I weren't poor (which I am) I don't want to pay a bunch of money for some leather fetish outfit that I will never wear again...unless I decide to make some money on the side. JUST KIDDING!!! (Anyone got a riding crop and leather dog collar they want to loan me?)

I'm looking forward to working on this. It will be filmed like a feature film. We have actual crew members instead of us all doing everything. I found a lovely young woman to be our script supervisor from the woman who taught me how to do the job (thanks Penny!). We still need someone to assist with hair and makeup (anyone want to be the next Max Factor?) and we are still looking for extras for a scene in the park on November 7th. If anyone is interested in being in a scene or just wants to check out filming, let me know.

I had to write a press synopsis of the show as we looked for potential investors and here is the press clip.
"WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS WILL NO LONGER STAY IN VEGAS!
The VDE team announced early Monday that they are now in pre-production on a new comedy sitcom pilot. The project, tentatively titled VEGAS SCHMEGAS, is a recurring character sketch comedy show along the lines of the international hit Little Britain. From the award winning filmmakers at Vision Dynamics Entertainment and shot in state-of-the-art high definition, VEGAS SCHMEGAS is perfect for standard television, cable and even Internet broadcast. VEGAS SCHMEGAS's colorful characters will be instantly recognizable to anyone familiar with the legend and lore that is Las Vegas."

There is actually a longer synopsis that goes into detail about some of the characters, etc. but I'll save that for closer to the release date. With everything going on with The Graminator I have felt less than creative so it will be good to get back into things. I am going to have to find a sitter for some of the filming days but my friend Kelley at ATM&S gave me a lead on someone so I'm going to call her, or if that doesn't work, check into a respite care provider.

In other stuff, I had a great birthday and I want to thank everyone who sent birthday wishes. It was nice not to be forgotten! I know I'm getting older because I asked for (and got) face cream and new pillows for my birthday. I haven't been sleeping well for the past few weeks but it's better with the new pillows and the face cream helps me look like I got a better night's sleep!

Lavender, the garden cat, is now Lavender, the home and garden cat. She comes into the house every morning and spends most of the day sleeping under The Graminator's bed. She also likes to jump on the couch and have me pet her. Which makes my dog jealous so I have to pet her too. So I have a dog on one side and a cat on the other. My allergies haven't bothered me too badly but I brush Lavender every other day and we try to vacuum a lot too. She still sleeps outside but I'm sure that will change when it gets cooler. My mom bought the cat an eighteen pound bag of food so I guess we have decided to keep her. Mom says we are still looking for a home for her though, so if anyone wants a very loving and friendly full grown cat, let me know.

I'll comment on the bizarre twist of John McCain suspending his campaign when I figure out why he did it. There is something going on that I can't quite understand and I don't like it, it makes me feel uneasy. As uneasy as a $700 billion dollar bailout but that's inevitable. This campaign strategy though is really weird on McCain's part.

And finally, Ted McGinley got kicked off "dancing with the Stars" last night. I thought it would be Susan Lucci or Kim Kardashian but I guess they have more fans. It's a shame, he was a better dancer who worked really hard. But I guess there aren't as many fans of "Married with Children" or "The Love Boat" anymore. And I was sure America wouldn't vote off Cloris this week, which is very nice, but she needs to go next week people. It's painful to watch her 'pseudo-dancing'. Tonight is the premieres of "Survivor: Gabon" and "My Name is Earl" and "The Office" - bring on the entertainment!

Ten Reason I Could Never Be on Dancing With The Stars

10. I'm not a B-List Celebrity.
9. Two left feet, tied to 2 uncoordinated legs, connected to totally spastic body.
8. Boobs are way too small compared to other women on the show.
7. Allergic to feathers and sequins since my showgirl days.
6. Impossible to listen to criticism from Len without crying.
5. Would injure or kill partner trying to lift me.
4. Restraining order from Tom Bergeron requires me to stay at least 500 feet away.
3. I get dizzy when I spin.
2. Can't understand a word Bruno is saying.
1. I hate spray tans.

Last night Jeffrey Ross went home (as he should, he was awful, and unfunny too). Tonight I think it'll be Susan Lucci. Cloris Leachman should go, but she's so darn hammy that America might keep her another week. She's terrible, and not really dancing at all, but she's 82 and once you factor that in she's not all that bad. I don't think she'll make it past next week if she doesn't go home tonight, it's funny now but the shtick is going to wear thin really quickly. My early favorites are Lance Bass and Brooke Burke. This three night thing is too long though. Five hours the first week? Give me a break. But Mom and The Graminator like it too so what's a girl to do but TiVo everything else and settle in for a little dancing?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Nope, it isn't Christmas, (although if retailer's have their way, we will be buying Christmas stuff now) it's the new fall TV season.

Yay for all the new shows! And the fact that they started on my birthday was really nice of them. I love new TV (I love any TV, who am I kidding). Now kiddies, back in the old days, when we only had 5 channels and you had to choose what new show you would watch. Yes, this was before cable, VDR, DVR, etc. We got a Betamax when I was seven but it wasn't programmable so you had to push the record button when the show came on and you couldn't watch one thing while recording another. We got cable when I was eight but it didn't have a remote and back then MTV just ran music videos.

Today we have TiVo, so I can record two programs at once. I can also watch the new shows 'on demand' on cable and the Internet. Unfortunately, while I'm looking forward to the new season, I'm already disappointed in it. The writer's strike led to fewer pilots and most of the new shows are copies of other shows. "90210" is just a new 90210. "Life on Mars", "Worst Week" and "Eleventh Hour" are all based on British shows, "Kath and Kim" is based on the Australian series and "The Ex-List" is Israeli (seriously?)

I miss a huge fall season with tons of new shows, most of which would be cancelled before you could really get into them (or in the case of "Cave Men" last fall, shows that NEVER should have made it onto the schedule in the first place.) I really miss the oh-so-bad shows like last season's "Viva Laughlin". A musical? Hysterical and I wish they had kept it on a bit longer, it would have made a great drinking game. (Drink a shot every time Melanie Griffith sings)

Still, I am looking forward to the return of "Chuck", "Dancing with the Stars" and "Criminal Minds". And I want to see "Kath and Kim" (I love sitcoms) and "The Mentalist' (Simon Baker is soooo hot). So bring on the shows. My DVR can take it!

Losing Myself Or Finding Out Who I Am?

I have been doing some thinking lately. The Graminator needs full time care, mostly because of her mental state. Physically she's better, much better, so much so I'd say she's 90% back to where she was, which is awesome considering that just a month ago i was afraid she was going to die. But by full time care I mean that she has reached the 'terrible twos' and can't be left alone because you don't know what she's going to do next. Saturday I went to take a quick shower and came out to find her stripping off her clothes. After I got her re-dressed and settled on the couch I went to put some clothes on and heard the unmistakable sound of her taking off her diaper. I came out to find her sitting in poo. She told me the brief 'just fell off'. Sure, while you were sitting down, on the couch, it just fell off and onto the floor. See what I mean, it's like having a toddler, I have to watch her every minute or she's gonna flush her toys down the toilet.

I don't mind taking care of her, I love my family and would do anything for them. But it isn't quite what I expected when I took this sabbatical. It's been very difficult to write. And then I began thinking about when I was working. I got an email from my friend and former boss Jamie. I can't tell you how much I miss her. I'm crying a bit as I write this. I used to talk to her a thousand times a day, about everything. I miss that. I miss chatting with Jan at the front desk. I miss discussing food and movies with Pat. I miss getting hugs from Tammy when one or the other of us was having a rough time in our lives (I could really use a hug now.) I miss talking New Yawk with Antonia. I miss seeing Kelley's quilts and her office decorated for the holiday's. I miss talking politics with Julie K. I miss grumpy Glynn and hanging in the copy room with the runners, and Paul taking my trash every day. I miss Becky and Lisa and Julie A and Sabrina and Nathan and Bruce and Eric and Dave and LeAnn and Lonnie. I miss Mandi and Erin and Jasmin and Anne and treat Thursdays. I miss Kurt's emails and Jon O saying hi in the hallway and Karie and Seetal and Jen and Julie O. I miss Stephanie and Harriet and Lindsay and Kristee and visiting the basement. I could go on until I named every single person who ever worked at Alverson Taylor because of the incredible people I had the pleasure of being around. For seven years I worked with these people and I miss them. I defined myself by what I did and now that person no longer exists, and I miss her too.

Is WHAT I am WHO I am? If so, am I a writer? A filmmaker? A caregiver? A nothing? I'm afraid I'm losing my identity. What, if on this voyage of self-discovery, I find out that I lost myself? I'm not questioning my worth, I know that I am loved and that there are people who appreciate me. I'm asking, how do you determine who you are? No one ever asks a new person that they meet, "so, who are you?" They ask "what do you do?", as though our job is the deciding factor of who we are. So do you lose yourself when you change or don't have a job? I don't think your job is who you are, I know lots of people who hate their jobs so that can't be the definition. Is who you are your dreams and desires? Maybe, but I know lots of people who just dream of winning the lottery so they don't have to do anything so that's not an apt description either. I know you aren't your house or your car or your credit card. Your aren't your friends, despite what MySpace and Facebook users might think, because most of us have a wide and varied group of friends. You certainly aren't your family because as much as we love our families, we didn't exactly get a choice there. Because, as a friend once told me, if we had a choice, we'd all be Kennedys.

It's easy to define myself by what I do, but right now I'm doing everything AND nothing, so it's hard to pin down a description. And I'm certainly not where I thought I'd be in life, not what I though when I was a kid, not what I thought ten years ago, not even what I thought six months ago. Maybe it's getting older (yes, it's THAT day) and maybe it's just the place I'm at in my life. Do you remember when you graduated from high school. And your whole life stretched in front of you, shiny with promise but a little scary too? And you thought you had a plan and you thought that everything would happen exactly how you planned it? Well, that's how I feel right now, only older and wiser to the ways of life. So I'm hopeful and scared and, quite frankly, a little weary and a lot more jaded. My whole life is stretching out before me again. I hope I find me.

Do You Dream In Movie Mode?

This post is about dreams. No, not "I dream of being a successful writer" but the actual REM sleep cycle type dreams. Everybody dreams, even though I know lots of people who say they don't. You have to dream to survive. It's actually a highly active brain time and dreams are a part of that.

I'm a lucid dreamer, meaning that many times I know when I'm dreaming and can control the outcome of the dream. I've done this ever since I was a kid and thought that everyone was like that until I got older and found out that it's actually uncommon. And most of my dreams (whether lucid or not) are "movie" dreams or story dreams, if you will. That means the dream has a beginning, a middle and an end and follows a story line, even if the story is kind of convoluted sometimes. But most of the time my dreams are really like little mini-movies in my head that star me.

Take last nights dream. I dreamed I was helping a friend (one I haven't seen or spoken to in several years) move to a very little house in a very rural setting (think cornfield in Mayberry). For a small town, the townspeople weren't overly friendly and one of them, "Hank" (who lived in the small farmhouse on the adjoining property) was downright hostile to me. This former friend (whom I shall call "Lizzy" to protect her true identity) had met up with a group of unsavory people and brought them back to the house to party. I just wanted to be left alone to sleep and was mad because they were making such a racket and they had used all of the bottled water I brought and I was thirsty. This house was really tiny, just one bedroom really and there were about thirty people in the house and surrounding yard. I really wanted a drink of water and as I poured the very last of the bottle into my glass, some random girl topped the glass of with what appeared to be Scotch. I was angry but so thirsty that I drank it anyway (Don't ask why I didn't just drink tap water, it was a dream and sometimes things just don't make sense.) I started to feel sick and there was so much loud noise and commotion that I just wanted to go in the bathroom and throw up and go back to bed but the bathroom was occupied and my bedroom had been taken over. I was feeling terrible, really dizzy and nauseous and I wanted away from all the loud, scary people so I walked to the nearest farmhouse, which was where "Hank" lived.

Now I have to say that "Hank", for all his open hostility towards me and "Lizzy", was really good looking. I mean really, really good looking. Think tanned from working outdoors, muscled from all that farm work, think no shirt because it's hot outside, all the typical farm boy stereotypes. We had only met a few times in town at the store or diner and as I said, he wasn't very friendly. He seemed to resent the 'city girls' who were invading his precious territory. Now trust me when I say that neither "Lizzy" nor I are exactly Paris Hilton and while I will admit that I know nothing about milking cows or tilling fields, I'm not completely clueless. I was pretty resentful of "Hank's" know-it-all superiority yet got the feeling that there was something else there. I suspected that "Hank" was more than he seemed and even thought he might be interested in me (here is where we know it's a dream, people. Even in the remote unlikelihood that some guy is interested in me, I NEVER have a clue when that's the case. I'm oblivious until someone points it out to me later, which really makes me mad because by then it's too late to do anything about it.)

Okay, so I stumble through the cornfields (yes, I know that's a bad idea, I saw "Children of the Corn") to "Hank's" house where he is awake (who wouldn't be with the biker gang party going on in the cornfield next door, I think at this point a death metal band had shown up and was playing). "Hank" was actually nice to me (which was good because I was really sick at this point) and concerned when I explained that I had gotten ill really quickly after drinking the Scotch/water. He made me throw up (always attractive, don't cha think?) and then put me to bed (no, don't go there yet) in a small bedroom on the first floor. I went to sleep right away and only woke up when my cell phone rang. It was "Lizzy", calling to say that she had driven with someone to buy some more alcohol and her car had caught fire and could I please come get her. I was still woozy at this point and was trying to figure out exactly where she was when some man came on the line and told me 'never mind' and hung up. I fell back into a deep sleep and woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming in the window.

When I woke up, "Hank" was nowhere to be found. I looked around the first floor and then went upstairs to check out the second floor. The bedrooms there faced towards the other farmhouses in the area. It was a good view actually and I was surprised that none of the bedrooms seemed to be in use, except for one room that was locked. A peek through the keyhole (hey, old farmhouse, of course there was a giant keyhole) revealed what appeared to be surveillance equipment. Why would a farmer need expensive surveillance equipment and why would he sleep in a tiny room on the first floor when there were several large bedrooms upstairs? I went back downstairs. "Hank" returned just a few minutes later with fresh made doughnuts and hot coffee from the diner in town. (in my dreams apparently I'm not allergic to caffeine). I confronted "Hank" with what I had discovered. He was angry with me for snooping and asked me why I was still there if I thought he was doing something wrong. I told him that even though there was some suspicious stuff going on that I didn't quite understand yet, deep down I felt like I could trust him and that I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He was a bit incredulous at my trust in him when he had been so hostile to me before and I told him it was because when he was being mean to me he always shifted his eyes to the left (a known lying signal) and when he was nice to me he looked me right in the eyes. He was shocked and then (okay guys, sorry, here is when the romance writer in me takes over the dream for a minute) grabs me in his arms and lays down a magnificent kiss. Which I return just as passionately (hey, I ain't dumb, if I can get some, I'll take it). This wild make out session leads to us heading to the little bedroom where I tell him he has to tell me his real name before we make love. (okay, I'm blushing just a bit as I write this, so forgive me, alright?) Again, he's shocked. Why don't I think "Hank" is his real name? Because, I tell him, he is obviously undercover - my guess is DEA or FBI or even possibly ATF - and that he wouldn't use his real name during the investigation. And I refuse to have sex with someone if I don't know their real name. (Apparently I have standards, even in dream land. Not high standards since I don't ask his LAST name, but standards none the less.) He tells me his name is Marcus and we...well, cut to a picture of a fireplace like in the 1960's movies. I can't write the details in my blog, after all this was a, er, um, personal experience, even if it was just a dream.

Okay, after, well, you know, we have breakfast (although it's now afternoon) where I show off my cooking skills by making a huge country style meal. I learn that he is DEA and he has been investigating a huge crystal meth operation in the area. The house "Lizzy" bought was one that had been used to cook meth and some of the 'gang' at the party were part of it too. This made me uneasy and I relayed the weird phone call I had gotten during the night. Marcus said he would check it out and I insisted on going with him (plus I needed fresh clothes although he loaned me a clean t-shirt.) We went to the house, which was trashed, including my car which had the tires slashed and windows broken. I quickly changed clothes and grabbed some stuff to take with me to Marcus' house. There was no sign of "Lizzy" and no answer on her cell when I tried. We asked around town but no one seems to have seen her. We even check out the disreputable bar where she had supposedly gone to buy more booze the night before. Our reception there is chilly and we don't stay long. We do snoop around there a bit and find "Lizzy's" car, hidden under a tarp in a junk heap out back. It had been burned.

Now it's getting dark and we head back to Marcus' farmhouse, where he lets his superiors know that something is going down and "Lizzy" is missing. They tell him they will send support tomorrow and use the information he has already gathered to make arrests. As night begins we hear noises at "Lizzy's" house. We go to the second floor to get a better look and see that there is a lot of activity. Marcus calls for backup as some of the 'gang' heads towards us. Marcus asks me if I know how to use a gun. I tell him that I may be a city girl but my dad taught me to shoot practically before I could walk (this is true, my father was a gun collector and enthusiast. We spent most weekends of my teenage years in the mountains around Las Vegas at black powder shoots where men dress like Grizzly Adams and shoot Civil War and Old West era guns. Yeah, that was fun for a teenage girl, I mean, who wants to hang out at the mall with her friends when she can watch men shoot guns in an area where there are no toilets.) He hands me a gun and an extra clip of ammunition and settles me in a crouch in the corner of the little bedroom and tells me to shoot anyone who comes in who isn't him. He heads to the front of the house and I can hear all kinds of chaos and gunfire. A huge man enters and I shoot him square in the chest. (it wasn't bloody, more like cartoonish) Another man enters and I try to shoot but the gun jams. He is laughing at me and about to shoot me when I cock the gun again and shoot him. I realize the action in the gun is what's jamming so I have to cock it twice to fire (I don't know that this would happen in real life, I'd have to ask my brother who is my resident expert in all things gun related).

Okay, this is where I woke up. Sorry if it was just getting exciting. I can't control everything. My mom says I need to write and ending so we know where "Lizzy" is and how we escape. I might just do that. But back to my original question...do you dream like that? Or am I a psychopath? Not only to I dream like this pretty much every night but I can remember the majority of them as well. I can still recall dreams I had ten or twenty years ago. I admit to a pretty vivid imagination (I could tell you some of the stories my Barbie dolls had to endure, they were soap opera like in their scope and story line.) So I just wondered if anyone else out there has dreams like mine. When you dream, what do you dream about?

Have a nice weekend...and Sweet Dreams!

I Didn't Make The List

So, once again, I didn't make the Forbes 400 list of the richest people in America.

Okay, the price of admission to the list was $1.3 billion dollars and I have like twenty-two dollars and eighty-six cents.

All the usual suspects made the list - Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, everyone in the world related to Sam Walton. Most of the list is old white guys. (Surprise, surprise.) Ten percent of the list is women. Oprah is on it. (Again, surprise, surprise.)

The guy who founded Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, is on the list, he's worth $1.5 billion. Oh, and he's twenty four. Yeah. Twenty-four. When I was twenty-four the sum total of my assets was a crappy Ford Tempo and whatever change I could find on the floor and in the seats of the said Ford Tempo. This guy can buy a small country and I had trouble finding enough cash to buy two tacos at Jack In The Box.

Sheldon Adelson lost almost half of his fortune this year and that would make me sad if he didn't still have a net worth of $15 billion dollars. So forgive me, Shelly, if I don't cry too much for you.

I guess what upsets me the most about this list (besides not being on it) is that it represents a kind of wealth that we normal people can't understand. Or at least I can't, maybe you're different. I wouldn't know what it's like to not think about the cost of things. I buy marked down produce and shop the clearance racks at Ross. My mom works at a day-old bread store. That's the reality of my life and it's okay, I'm used to it. But these guys have more money than most people could ever even dream about. I can't fathom money in the billions. A million is still a whole lot of dough to me, and these people have thousands of millions.

Sure, I can imagine of what it might be like to be one of the mega-rich. But I'd still be looking at the prices on the menu and thinking that two tacos are only ninety-nine cents and that 'poulet a la valee d'auge' is really just roast chicken anyway and how can they charge so much for it? Why would I spend six figures on an Hermes Birkin Bag when that's more money than I spent on college? The twenty dollar purse from Target holds my wallet and cell phone just fine. And private jets are not exactly eco-friendly.

Who wouldn't want to be rich? Nobody I know. It would be lovely to give generously to charity and eat and shop wherever you want. To go on vacations that don't require coupons and online discount hotels. But my life is grounded in reality and I'll never be a part of that world. Foe me, I'd settle for not worrying about where car repair money is going to come from. Think that Facebook guy would give it to me?

It's Brick Morgan!

The much anticipated trailer for Brick Morgan is finally here! And the Smidgits are the only ones to bring it to you!




This movie was a long time in the making, and has been a journey from concept to completion. So we hope you enjoy!

Wild Weekend and The Walking Woman

Okay, it was a long (but nice) weekend. Above is a picture of the birthday girl (aka Mom) on the left with The Graminator, my Aunt Leslie and my Uncle Stuart. She was surprised and touched that they came in to see her.

After her surprise on Wednesday, her siblings took her to Mt. Charleston for lunch on her actual birthday, then everyone came over for a huge Chinese banquet (we are gonna be eating leftovers for a week!) and banana cupcakes.

Friday, we went to Buca de Beppo for a family dinner (thanks again to Kelly for gramma-sitting, my mom was so touched by his generosity that she cried). Buca is a chain restaurant that serves Italian food, family style, and we got the 'kitchen table' where we proceeded to consume far too much food and some delicious red wine courtesy of my Uncle. If you ever go to dinner with my Uncle Stuart and he orders red wine, drink it, even if you aren't a red wine fan. He picks GREAT wine. Too much food, wine and fun led to some loud and raucous discussions, including politics, and arguing politics with my uncle is a lot like being on The McLaughlin Group. Seriously, I've been in debate tournaments that didn't need as much planning as a discussion with Stuart...but it was still fun and "I lub you" too, Uncle Stuart.

Unfortunately, my uncle's girlfriend, Roberta, had a really bad pinched nerve and they had to go home to California earlier than planned and they left on Saturday. So they dropped my Aunt Leslie off at our house and we just sat around all day talking and eating leftovers (which now included Italian food in addition to the grilled pork from Wednesday and the Chinese from Thursday) and watched the movie "21". I do not recommend this movie, not that it was bad, just that it was so unrealistic (which is strange because it was very loosely based on a true story) plus it committed the unforgivable sin of making a bunch of Vegas inaccuracies. (If you get a suite at the Hard Rock hotel and look out the window, there is NO WAY to see the fountains at Bellagio from that view. Even if the hotel wasn't more than a mile away and not even on the Strip, it faces the OPPOSITE direction!!!!!!! Augh!)

Sunday Will came over (Val had to grade papers) and we all went to lunch (yes, all, even the Graminator) to Salt Lick BBQ at Red Rock Station. It was delicious and fun (thanks for lunch Aunt Leslie!) and way too much food (so add BBQ to the leftovers in my fridge.) We also played with the new Wii Fit I bought. It's much harder than I thought, but it seems like it will make working out fun so we will see how it goes. My aunt bought me a sweater (thanks for the present Aunt Leslie!) and we had a nice visit. She's flying back to Florida this morning.

Now for the Wild One. The Graminator is walking. She got a new walker on Friday and the physical therapist had her walk around the kitchen. She needed very little guidance walking, mostly someone to stand behind her just in case she has balance issues. But once she started walking, the floodgates opened. She needs some kind of support to stand up, but once she's up, she's off and running. On Saturday she got herself out of bed and stripped herself naked and made it to the bathroom before we heard her. Unfortunately she's just not ready for that yet (hence the commode chair) but we learned to put her walker across the room. This morning she was up and heading to her room before I caught her (again, my fault for leaving the walker within reach.) I went from having a big baby that I had to do everything for to having a toddler that I have to watch every second of the day. Fortunately she still tires easily so I just make her walk laps around the kitchen to wear her out. She has a doctor's appointment today so I'll be asking questions about helping her appetite and getting her bed sore finally healed. But I think it is safe to say that The Graminator is on the way to a full (and speedier than we anticipated) recovery. The hard part now will be keeping her from pushing too much. Her mental state is just not quite enough to leave her alone yet so I'll still be home bound for a while yet.

Okay, I have to go now. Novel to write, Gramma to watch, leftovers to eat. So much to do, so little time!

Happy Birthday to My Hero, My Mom

Yes, her birthday really is 9/11. But even more important than the anniversary of the attacks is the birth of my mother and a special anniversary in her life.

My mother is truly my best friend. She is my mother by choice, a long road that I have written about before. She has always been there for me and supported me and tried to raise me right. She has taught me so much in life, things practical and things abstract and she never asks for anything in return. She even let me move home to pursue my dream and she was a major contributor to my first film (hence her Executive Producer status on IMDB!) Sorry I don't have a picture of her, but I'll try to get a good one this weekend.

Today is her 60th birthday (which she'd rather everyone not know but since she looks like a little kid, no one's going to believe it anyway) and it is the 5th anniversary of her remission from cancer. There was a time five years ago when I was scared that I might lose her. I don't know the actual date of when we got the official word 'remission' is, I think it's actually sometime in January but I mark it on her birthday because that was the date of her last horrible round of chemo. I made a banana cake to take to both celebrate her birthday and to thank the incredible nurses who saved my mother's life. My mother has an oncogene called Her2/neu that basically replicates cancer cells like a Xerox machine and they treated it as aggressively as they possibly could. And she had every possible side effect you could ever get. Honestly, getting her through the chemotherapy without killing her seemed an impossible task at the time. But she did it, and then radiation and now she's cancer free (yes, I knocked on wood, I'm not taking any chances!)

Yesterday my Aunt Leslie flew in from Florida and my Uncle Stuart and his girlfriend Roberta drove in from California to surprise her for her birthday. Boy was she surprised. I was afraid she might be mad at me for planning this but since I can't give her all that she deserves, I at least wanted her to know how much she is loved. So today they are taking her to lunch and tonight we'll have Chinese takeout (and I think some banana cupcakes) with everyone including Will and Val and tomorrow I have a 'grandma-sitter' (my friend Kelly, who ROCKS for helping us out, what a guy, thanks Kelly) and we are all going out to dinner. I arranged with her boss for her to have the weekend off so I don't know what they will do but I'm sure her siblings will take her to do fun stuff. She deserves to be treated like the queen she is.

My father made the greatest decision of his, and my, life when he married my mother. She is the most incredible person I know and I'm lucky to be her daughter.

Happy Birthday Mommy! I love you.

Just Smart Enough To Know I'm Not Smart Enough

I'm not dumb, I know that. But I'm not as smart as I'd like to be. I realize that on days like today, when scientists are pushing the boundaries of knowledge, to understand the creation of all that is.

They built this huge circular thingamajig that smashes particles to bits like a fifteen car pileup on the 95. From this, they hope to discover what started the universe, namely The Big Bang, by recreating a little bang. That's about as much of the story as I can really grasp. There are a lot of big words involved like Hadron Collider, smuans, quarks and Higgs Boson. I have no idea what any of those mean. I wish I did.

I'd love to understand more about particle physics and quantum mechanics and string theory. But I don't. I need someone to explain it to me like I was a short bus riding third grader. I can tell you who got kicked off Big Brother last night but that isn't exactly going to explain the origin of man. (The de-evolution of man, maybe.)

So in Europe, a whole bunch of scientists are high-fiving each other because they got a proton, which I can't even see, to race around this tube with all these magnets and gizmos and whatchamacallits recording every bit of data they can think of so they can explain what made everything everything. And I feel stupid. I got A's in all my science classes in high school and college - okay, except sophomore Biology, I got a B, but I was being harassed by imbecilic teenage boys who kept putting dissected frog parts in my purse.

I want to understand what all the fuss is about. Maybe I can get a book... d'ya think they make "Particle Physics for Dummies"?

Talk Show Rules

Okay, I learned a lot from watching the premiere of The Bonnie Hunt Show yesterday. It looks like it has the potential to be a great show and really a lot of fun. She's definitely paying homage to some of the great shows of old like The Dean Martin Show, The Mike Douglas Show and others. It may take her a while to segue into a better host than guest but I think she's on the right path as long as she focuses on entertainment. But she has to follow some rules...

Rule #1
If you have Robin Williams on as a guest, don't do anything but wind him up and let him go. He was like an ADHD kid on pixie sticks. Hysterically funny. ("What's the French version of "Anne Frank"? She's upstairs!") But Bonnie kept trying to throw in a zinger of her own now and then and he totally stomped on her lines, talked over her and was pretty Robin Williams like. As the host, you need to know when to talk to draw your guests out more, but if they don't need drawing out then just lay back and let them do their thing.

Rule #2
See rule #1. Joe Mantegna "surprised" her by showing up with a heart shaped pizza. (Okay, does anyone really buy that she's surprised. The guy had enough sandwiches for a studio audience and had to get past security for cryin' out loud, no body thinks he 'just dropped by'. Pu-leez). Now Joe might have been an interesting interview but we'll never know because Robin was still in a manic phase and walked all over whatever Joe might have been saying. Wait until Robin is gone, preferably escorted off set by several large security guards, before you let the next guest come out. (Side note, I think it would be weird to be married to Robin. Aside from being only slightly less hairy than Sasquatch, he has to just go catatonic at some point after all that manic energy.)

Rule #3
If you are going to do the "kids say the funniest things" bit, please keep them to less than three minutes. After that, it wears a bit thin. Same rule applies to all family members and pets.

I think this show is going to be awesome, as soon as Bonnie hits her stride. Anyone who liked "Life with Bonnie" will like this show, as it's just a version of the 'show within a show'. Holly Wortell is even on, I'm not sure what character she's playing but I expect to see her evolve too. Check your local listing for channel and show times.

Happy Birthday Will!

Today is my brother's birthday. I just want to acknowledge what an amazing brother and incredible person he is. He is younger than I am, but I have graciously decided to let him get to the age of forty before me.

Will was, of course, my arch rival for the front seat growing up, and a pesky little brother the rest of the time. I also remember this awful smell coming from his room, which got way worse when his friends joined him. I used to hold my nose as I ran past his room. He wore a KISS t-shirt for what seems like forever when he was a kid and only stopped wearing it when they had to cut it off him when he dislocated his shoulder. He got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a brown belt in White Tiger when he was younger, at which point I stopped beating up on him because I knew he could kick my ass.

After my father died, Will became my second best friend (my mom is my BF). We have gone through a lot together, some really tough times and a few happy ones. He has become a truly wonderful man, compassionate, caring, and he really puts his family first in his life. I am so happy he met Val, and happier still that he was smart enough to ask her to marry him so that she becomes a part of our family too. I'm even more ecstatic that Val doesn't mind spending time with us or letting Will spend time with us. She's a great sister and a welcome addition to the family.

Will is truly a product of my parents. He's as smart and interesting as my father, with a bit of his temper to boot. He's as kind and caring as my mother. I'd like to think some of my influence is in there too, as he has influenced my life. He's been incredibly supportive of my sabbatical and my film making and he is always there for me, whatever I need. He also helps me save thousands of dollars at the mechanic because he knows way more about cars than I do. ("No Shae, tell the mechanic you don't need a new picture tube for the car. Yes, I'm sure. Cars don't have picture tubes. Yes, I'm sure.")

Some of my favorite memories in this world involve my brother. Us, walking down the streets of New York City, me periodically jumping up and down, clutching his arm, screaming "I won $64,000!", him patiently smiling at me, saying "I know". Him, pulling himself out of bed because I wanted to see the midnight buffet on the cruise ship, even though he was tired and not at all hungry. Him and I, eating Dole Whip at Disneyland. Him, holding my hand, when our mother went into surgery.



I wish I could give my family all of their dreams and desires. Instead, I gave my brother a couple of books and made him a batch of Key West Cupcakes. (Vanilla cake, key lime curd filling, this delicious creamy frosting and a sprinkle of graham cracker crumbs. Plus I made a gum paste sand dollar for decoration.) But if I could give him the moon and the stars, I would.

Happy Birthday Will. You are a great brother and friend, and I love you.

The Writing

I once had a French teacher who told me that once you start dreaming in French, you'll know that you are mastering the language. I never dreamed in French (unless you count the occasional dream starring Gerard Depardieu) or any language other than English but I do dream my writing.

Last night I had dreams about Vegas Shmegas, which begins principal photography November first so there is still a lot of pre-production stuff to be accomplished. I also dreamed about my novel, which is as yet untitled so I'm calling it "Shelby 1" (and hoping that someday there is a "Shelby 2"). Obviously both projects are heavily in my mind, which is a nice distraction from all the other stuff going on.

The writing on this is going well, much better than I had expected. It's written in first person (like the Stephanie Plum novels) and I've heard that's typical in 'chick lit' - so you were right Dyann! (Hmmm, do they call novels written about and by guys "dick lit"?) The thing is, because it's written from Shelby's perspective, I'm hearing her voice in my head constantly.

For my fellow writers, a question please. Do your characters speak to you? I mean literally. Mine do. Oh, I know, it's just my brain, working out the logistics and story, but my characters actually say and do things I didn't expect. Shelby speaks Chinese, did you know that? I didn't, at least not until she told me. She speaks several languages actually and it's in a unique way that she learned each of them. Of course, this may present a problem as I don't speak a foreign language so there's more research I need to do. Thanks a lot, Shel.

There is a character in "Arnie Johnson's Big Break" who has a twist at the end that I didn't see coming. Shocked me. But it was perfect and got me out of a writing corner, so to speak. I had been fussing and worrying about how to resolve the situation when the character stepped forward and revealed the situation. It was a relief and a surprise.

So the writing goes on. If you see me mumbling to myself while I walk through the grocery store, I'm not crazy, just talking to Shelby. Oh, and ladies, Evan is way hotter than I ever imagined. Whew. You're gonna love their love story! I'm blushing just thinking about it. Shelby isn't some stick thin supermodel (few couch potatoes are) and Evan likes curvy girls. (Of course, it doesn't hurt that Shelby's curves are in the right places whereas mine seem to be more like an abstract painting.) Evan is the perfect guy, so of course he's fiction. I'M KIDDING, I know there are great guys out there, it's just that they're already taken. But if you know one that isn't, send him my way. I could use the 'practice' for my love scenes!

I've Created A Monster

In the continuing saga of The Graminator, we are following the whirlwind "Jeckyll and Hyde" effect.

Last Thursday and Friday she was doing pretty well, eating and exercising as directed. Then Saturday, no food. "I just have no appetite" was her constant refrain, along with begging to go back to bed. Sunday was a little better, then Monday, more whining, no eating. Same on Tuesday. She was complaining of a lot of pain and the Tylenol wasn't cutting it so we decided to giver he some Percocet on Wednesday. We just gave her a half a pill in the morning (so she wouldn't be in pain during physical therapy) and another half in the late afternoon so she would feel well enough to sit up a while. She still wouldn't eat, although she swore to me that she had eaten plenty. (One bite of toast, one bite of sausage link for breakfast, one bite of meat and one prune for lunch, she's consuming less calories than my chihuahua). So I went to GNC to buy some weight gainer formula. We've been giving her Ensure to give her some calories but we needed to get even more calories and protein in her.

Okay, the look on the guy's face when I told him I wanted to buy weight gainer was priceless. But he was really helpful (and good looking but honestly, not the brightest bulb on the string). This stuff has like seven hundred calories and fifty grams of protein if you mix it with water but I'm mixing it with Ensure, ice cream and half and half so it has like a zillion now. Of course I'm not giving her a full serving at every meal but breaking it up over three meals but at least now I think she's getting enough calories to survive and enough protein to start healing her bed sore.

She was not so awake during physical therapy but her therapist said she was doing a lot better and her balance is improving and she is pulling more of her own weight (which my back can attest to, thank goodness). She still didn't want to eat dinner but I made her drink a 'super shake' and she stayed up a little later than she had been.

But as we know, the night time brings out Mr. Hyde. So when my mom woke me up at four in the morning I knew it couldn't be good news. (What news is ever good at four a.m.? No one ever calls to tell you that you won a million dollars at that time, only bad stuff.) Grandma had somehow managed to get herself out of bed, walk down the hallway to the living room and ended up lying on the floor. She even pulled pillows and a blanket off the couch. My mom slept through the whole thing and wouldn't have even found her if she hadn't had to make a late night bathroom run and noticed Grandma wasn't in bed. Grandma didn't appear hurt, just confused as to why she was on the floor. So we got her back in bed. (When we told her it was four in the morning she asked "Well why was I out of bed?" Good question.) Of course I couldn't go back to sleep which makes the second night this week I have gotten very little beauty sleep (and trust me, I need my beauty sleep!)

We put a bed rail up on the side of The Graminator's bed, but she shimmied out the end of the bed, which we had blocked off with her wheelchair and walker. We also thought the pain would remind her to stay in bed. Apparently the pain pills worked a little too well and so I put another rail on the end of the bed. The next move, I think, will be a series of bungee cords, so that if she wants to get out of bed she's gonna have to have the moves of Catherine Zeta-Jones in Entrapment. I don't want to use actual restraints but we can't have her getting out of bed and falling again and re-injuring herself. Percocet may have helped the pain but it's interfering with her memory and safety. But we don't want her back to the whining, constantly in pain woman either. It's such a tough line to walk, especially when someone doesn't have the mental capacity to understand the danger. So today we'll cut it back to a quarter of a tablet and see how that goes.

Oh, to have all of this resolved, so I can rest easy knowing she's resting easy. I feel like such a nag, constantly harping on her to eat, trying to get her well, then scared that when she's well she's gonna turn into Gramma Knievel. Every day is a new adventure.

Trying New Things

The "Year of Writing Dangerously" is supposed to be about more than just writing. This sabbatical is also supposed to be about learning new things, pursuing some entrepreneurial ideas, social networking, etc. So in that vein, I have decided to try to learn to play the guitar.

My brother bought an electric guitar a few years ago to try to learn. Mostly it's just been gathering dust in his old room. So I asked him if I could borrow it for a while, to mess around and see if I could learn enough to fake a couple of songs. He said sure and loaned me the guitar, amp, books and all the accessories. (Including headphones so I don't have to torture anyone but myself.)

You have to understand that I believe somewhere inside of me is a prodigy. A prodigy doing what, we may never know, hence the constant exploration. (You can still be a prodigy in your thirties, can't you?) I love art but can't draw a stick figure to save my life. Painting watercolors is a secret desire but the lack of artistic talent keeps holding me back, drat it. Music is the same way. I would love, love, LOVE to play an instrument but lack a fundamental, oh, say, musical ability.

Oh, I've tried to be a musician. I loved playing the Flute-a-Phone in elementary school. I wasn't good at it, possibly because it required hand-eye coordination. (Hence the reason I'm also not a good athlete.) And the ability to read music is almost completely beyond me, much like trigonometry - which I passed with a B, thank you, and then promptly pushed out of my brain so that I would have room to remember things like "What was the name of the family Charles worked for on the first season of Charles in Charge?" (Answer: Pembroke, the Powell's came later when the show moved to syndication.) Reading music is like a foreign language that you must learn by the age of two to fully understand, I think. I once dated a bass player who tried to explain the 'circle of fifths' or something like that and I thought he had been taken over by pod people. He was speaking gibberish, and I secretly think he made it all up.

I tried the keyboard a couple of times. We never had a piano but my parents bought one of those little Casio keyboards for us kids in the 80's and I fooled around with it a bunch. I bought a larger keyboard later thinking I would teach myself to play piano and learned to play two Christmas carols then promptly set the keyboard in a corner and then forgot about it completely. I have a sneaking suspicion that the only instruments I can really "play" are peripheral percussion instruments like the shaker, the cowbell and the triangle. I'd add the tambourine but that may be too technically advanced for me.

So now I embark on a journey of guitar. Who knows where it will lead. I have never even played "Guitar Hero" so I maybe brilliant at it, a genius talent waiting to break free. Soon I may be touring with a rock bank, with roadies doing all the heavy lifting for me and groupies just waiting for their chance to spend time in my presence. It'll be cool to retire and just play Vegas. Or, perhaps, this guitar will just sit in my room, waiting to be covered in new dust, as I become frustrated once again with my complete and utter lack of talent. Only time will tell.

I Am So Not A Blonde

Okay, so the saying goes, Blonde's have more fun. But I'm a pale girl of Irish descent with pink skin undertones. So I color my naturally dark brown hair to auburn. And it looks good on me, it's the color I should have been born with. My paternal Grandmother used to use a henna rinse on her hair to bring out the red and The Graminator was a natural redhead (think Katherine Helmond) so it runs in my family.

Yesterday I went to get my hair done because I was tired of pulling it back in a ponytail every day. So I got a cute new cut and the stylist suggested highlights just in the front. I said okay and she told me she was going blonde but the area was just right in front and with the cut it would frame my face nicely. Now I had highlights that were too blonde before and ended up making it look like frosted hair, which I hate (sorry to those of you with frosted hair but it's not a good look on me.) But since these weren't all over highlights I wasn't too worried.


Did you ever see the X-Men Movies? Do you know the character Rogue, played by Anna Paquin? Where the evil guy tries to harness her power and she gets these two white steaks in her hair? Now picture that on a redhead only the streaks are yellow gold. Yup, that's what I look like, like someone tried to harness my power. No, I did not cry, because I have to dye my hair this week anyway to get rid of my roots and I'll just put color over the blond to give me coppery highlights and I think It will be really cute. But blonde? No way. I just can't pull it off, even in a small amount. But the highlights are going to be cool when they are red and even the blonde is growing on me a little (I like the drama of it, just not the color.)

Women are constantly obsessing over and changing their hair. I hate my too thick hair, my mother hates her way too thin baby fine hair, my sister-in-law-to-be changes her color every few months, The Graminator wants hers cut off to boy short length, if it's straight we want curly, if it's curly we will spend hours straightening it. We are rarely happy with our and when we are, that style goes completely out of fashion. It's a never ending struggle. But the good thing about hair? It'll always grow out to almost exactly what we started with in the first place!

Happy Labor Day

I hope you all are enjoying a safe and happy Labor Day.

When I was a kid, Labor Day to me meant no school and I spent the weekend with my Grandma Wilhite and we watched the Jerry Lewis MDA Labor Day Telethon. She let me make a small donation every year and once (since the telethon was broadcast from Las Vegas until the mid-1990's) we even got to go and see the Telethon live. I loved my Grandma Wilhite (who passed on in 1995 at the age of 91) and I loved staying at her house. Of course, it didn't hurt that she spoiled me rotten. But I loved that Labor Day tradition and though I rarely watch the telethon any more, I still associate my best Labor Day memories with her.

As an adult I came to appreciate Labor Day for what it is supposed to represent, the celebration of the working man and the various labor organizations that began it. My father was a union steelworker for most of my life and I was worked as a union grocery clerk to put myself through school. You can say whatever you like about labor unions but we as Americans owe most of the industrial revolution in this country to unions and their members. And I owe my very survival to unions because without them my father wouldn't have been able to support us (and let my mother stay home with us kids.) Unions today may not have the same power, prestige and impact but I thank the men and women who fought and sacrificed for fair wages, benefits and working conditions. I, and this country, owe you a debt of gratitude.

Labor Day to you may mean parades or picnics or just the end of summer. (Which, frankly, growing up in Las Vegas I never understood since it will still be in the 100 degree range for another four weeks or more.) But whatever Labor Day means to you and your family, I hope yours is filled with love, peace and prosperity.