It is so quiet here, I can hear people talking when they take twilight walks and are a block away.
Not even a week here, and I forgot what it was like not to live here. I'm on the Neebes' sofa, Mr. Neebes and the Sisterwife upstairs sleeping, Em and H are at their grandmother's house, and for a few brief moments, Tim and A are downstairs, playing with the controlled chaos of a 5 and 3 year old. I've fixed their breakfast, listened to them tell me about the morning, and watched tumbling, all accompanied by, "Miss Quin! Watch!". Kids don't get it that I am not good with kids, or perhaps it's because I laugh or scold, I'm not sure... but, they have dogged my steps since I came back.
Not such a bad thing, except when you are in the bathroom, and you hear breathing, and then, "Can you see my fingers under the door?"
My house will, with luck, be ready to move in by Tuesday. I have to say, the work the Zenmaster put into it in December is amazing. Since he's my business partner now, he gets part of the proceeds when the thing sells, to allow him to become a Flipping Zenmaster. The back garden has to be pulled out, dead grass and all, and I am looking forward to planning a nice cottage garden out there, to enjoy when it's the cool of the evening.
The Investment has become Sisterwife and my rent boy. You see, we laugh so loudly, no one ever wants to sit by us in a play or a film. We also make comments if the film sucks (trust me, there are films I've seen here where there is no one else in the place). No one laughs at the other person's really bad comments as much as she and I do, so, we needed a rent boy. We pay his way in, give him popcorn, a drink and some gummy bears, and he will go with us and sit without complaining.
He's also attached his ass to the front seat of Norma. Gee, I wonder what it is like to own a car? To drive one?
Along with my work as Prop Goddess, I've also been assigned set dressing. Still, I'm doing so much less than I used to, and, I'm getting paid so, woot!
Still waiting for my multitude of boxes to arrive... I keep my clothes in the back of the family van, and my personal items sit next to me on the floor. Thankfully, I remembered to look in all of the cupboards before I left... Up in one was a small ziplock bag, with some odd material inside. I sniffed, I looked at it in the bag, wondering, "What is this? A spice? Something from the last tenant that I missed when I moved in?" I wet my finger to touch it and taste it when it came to me what it was...
The last little tablespoonful of my Dad's ashes from when I buried him in September.
Yeah, very glad I realised it before I tasted, although he'd have found it very, very amusing. Far more than I would have, trust me, when I discovered it, and sat there spitting yelling, "EW! EW!".
I made sure I marked the bag this time... 'DAD'. I'm not taking chances again.
Life is slow, steady, a bit sad--and it waits for me to discover what is there to see.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
400
You could tell the plane was full of New Yorkers.
As soon as it landed, everyone surged forward, quickly out the door, up the hall, into the airport. We all did that brisk New York City walk over to the airport tram, and when the doors opened, we all moved in, filling the car, moving into small spaces, flowing around those who didn't move like sand around rocks in a jar. The tram moved, subdued speech, doors opened, and again, we did the New York City Trot down to the luggage carousel.
Standing, standing....looking at watches, then at the conveyor belt that was not delivering our luggage. As one, 10-15 people leaned out over the revolving carousel that still did not have the luggage we needed... we looked the same way you do peering down the tunnel for a train you tell yourself is late, even though you know it isn't.
Announcement--our luggage is at a different location, the airline is sorry for the bad information. A chorus of voices mutters, "FUCK!" as we spin and move looking like a flock of birds flying in those patterns you question....how do they know when to turn all at the same time? I'm not sure of their reasons, ours was the deep desire to get our luggage and leave.
Luggage grabbed, on a trolley, Sisterwife picks me up amid squeals and joyous noises. A meal at In-n-Out Burgers, including two chocolate malts to go, and we hit the road. The two hours back here fly by, I am hit with my first time paying for gas, putting me in shock and we are at her home, where I find my sofa made up, as if I'd never left from my last visit a year ago. Three in the morning, to me it's five, and I'm exhausted.
It's 9AM the next morning, and I can hear breathing. "Is she awake?". Two sets of eyes are staring at me, breathing out little children's morning breath. We are off and running for the day, kids fed, to the theatre and I'm going over rehearsal reports, looking at props, hugging old friends. One rehearsal to watch, marking where and when props not noted in the script appear, sorting out what I have to buy, find, build in my head.
Home. Off to the Church of the Cinema 8 with The Investment and Sisterwife to see The Happening (or, as we called it, a remake of An Inconvenient Truth by M. Night), laughter and screams inside... the film wasn't that good, but, there were excellent screaming parts. Popcorn and diet Pepsi. Have I been gone?
Another rehearsal today, more lists to do, arrangements to get my house livable by the weekend, hot summer sun, the never ending Utah wind, trees and grass and flowers that don't touch the lush green of where I've been.
400 posts in a journal I started to keep my family in touch, that has allowed me to make lovely friends. I feel a pang over what was just two days ago; although home, I'm homesick. This, too, will pass.
Fast, furious, productive 48 hours, where I slide back into what I used to be, with a touch of something else added to the mix. A sense of calmness, of knowledge of my job, knowing I had much happen while I was away....
Thank you to everyone who does stop by to read these blatherings, you flatter me with your kindness.
As soon as it landed, everyone surged forward, quickly out the door, up the hall, into the airport. We all did that brisk New York City walk over to the airport tram, and when the doors opened, we all moved in, filling the car, moving into small spaces, flowing around those who didn't move like sand around rocks in a jar. The tram moved, subdued speech, doors opened, and again, we did the New York City Trot down to the luggage carousel.
Standing, standing....looking at watches, then at the conveyor belt that was not delivering our luggage. As one, 10-15 people leaned out over the revolving carousel that still did not have the luggage we needed... we looked the same way you do peering down the tunnel for a train you tell yourself is late, even though you know it isn't.
Announcement--our luggage is at a different location, the airline is sorry for the bad information. A chorus of voices mutters, "FUCK!" as we spin and move looking like a flock of birds flying in those patterns you question....how do they know when to turn all at the same time? I'm not sure of their reasons, ours was the deep desire to get our luggage and leave.
Luggage grabbed, on a trolley, Sisterwife picks me up amid squeals and joyous noises. A meal at In-n-Out Burgers, including two chocolate malts to go, and we hit the road. The two hours back here fly by, I am hit with my first time paying for gas, putting me in shock and we are at her home, where I find my sofa made up, as if I'd never left from my last visit a year ago. Three in the morning, to me it's five, and I'm exhausted.
It's 9AM the next morning, and I can hear breathing. "Is she awake?". Two sets of eyes are staring at me, breathing out little children's morning breath. We are off and running for the day, kids fed, to the theatre and I'm going over rehearsal reports, looking at props, hugging old friends. One rehearsal to watch, marking where and when props not noted in the script appear, sorting out what I have to buy, find, build in my head.
Home. Off to the Church of the Cinema 8 with The Investment and Sisterwife to see The Happening (or, as we called it, a remake of An Inconvenient Truth by M. Night), laughter and screams inside... the film wasn't that good, but, there were excellent screaming parts. Popcorn and diet Pepsi. Have I been gone?
Another rehearsal today, more lists to do, arrangements to get my house livable by the weekend, hot summer sun, the never ending Utah wind, trees and grass and flowers that don't touch the lush green of where I've been.
400 posts in a journal I started to keep my family in touch, that has allowed me to make lovely friends. I feel a pang over what was just two days ago; although home, I'm homesick. This, too, will pass.
Fast, furious, productive 48 hours, where I slide back into what I used to be, with a touch of something else added to the mix. A sense of calmness, of knowledge of my job, knowing I had much happen while I was away....
Thank you to everyone who does stop by to read these blatherings, you flatter me with your kindness.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Day By Day
I am down to a suitcase, a coffee machine, one cup, paper plates and a leaky bed.
Yesterday, CB and I hauled all of my packed boxes down to FedEx where my life in New York was shipped off to my life in Utah. When I consider the fact I moved to Utah with a dog, two cats, some hamsters, two children, two vehicles, my father who was starting to slip into Alzheimer's (you could find where he was on the road by driving to the top of a hill and looking for the eight mile long stretch of backed up traffic... he was at the front, driving 45MPH) and a fully loaded full sized moving van... I'm moving back with less than 400 lbs of stuff in a bunch of heavy duty cardboard boxes, shipped by an express company.
Henry David would be proud.
The Prop Goddess work has already begun, letters flying between myself and stage managers... we need this and we need that. I send letters back--no, there are no mustard bottles, it will be in a dish, people made mustard at home in that era. Lucky Strikes were a brand, however, I will have to build the package, as it's colour went from a coppery green to white in 1941 because of the war effort. Yes, I have found a baseball glove, it's vintage 1935. The directors like me because I am so focused on details.... that also makes me a pain in the ass, because I don't like to back down. I'm not exactly, um, flexible, you see.
If it calls for a certain thing, well, that's what it should be.. I don't like fudging. Like the cigarette package... sure, no one may know the package colour changed.. but, I know. And I figure someone else may know, so.... coppery green it will be, come hell or high water.
Norma is running, The Investment is driving her around, and won't be pleased I'm taking her back over. I will be getting the utilities turned back on when I arrive, and the furniture, what little I have, moved in next weekend.
It's day by day... Monday, I make a last trip into the city, to pick up a few things. Tuesday, I will stab The Titanic to death, do one last clean of the apartment, then we all head to the airport.
A door closes, a door opens.... you take a breath, and walk through to see where they lead you. I am not done with New York, I've friends here, and can't imagine never coming back. The new season will be up and running on Broadway in January.. I'll be back for that. I've CF to visit, the WeatherGuy will be back, C and his family, KB (the director) and a few others. You see, now, I have the best thing you can have in New York....
Friends with a bedroom where I can stay when I come visit. Ha!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Stay, Just A Little Bit Longer
Last Day with my little C.
There was a hint of rain in the air, he had no homework, and he didn't want to go outside, he said. We had cold pizza for snack, while he told me about the new attraction at the Bronx Zoo, and would I be able to go with the family when they go up to see it later in the summer. I explained again I was leaving, remember? We are going to the airport on Tuesday and bringing me to go to catch a plane, and I am flying far to the other end of the country, near California....he knows where that is...and the man who came over the night before is going to live in my apartment. Noel is a nice guy, remember? There will be someone new to watch him and R, and she is very nice, and has a car and will take him swimming.
He chews his pizza, humming to himself.
Can I go to the Zoo next weekend, then? I sigh, and we look at the calendar, so I can show him the dates, but, he runs off, not interested, saying he doesn't want to look, he wants to watch Lost World on Bob, please.
I stretch out on the long sofa, the soft leather is cool through my jeans and teeshirt. Lying on my side, I curl up my legs... sometimes, he will lie on his stomach along my body, his head on my shoulder, mahogany red hair tickles my neck, his feet near my knees, his fingers twined in my shirt, touching my hand....stimming, always stimming. He murmurs about the film, asking What do they call the male dinosaurs? What do they call the female ones? What kind is that dinosaur or that one? I respond, You know the answers, C... what are the answers? He sits up on my hip, I am his favourite place to sit or lean against when he reads or watches a film. He quickly rattles off the answers, giving me the names and when they lived. He reaches down and takes my hand, twisting his fingers in mine... or he'll rub the cotton of my shirt between his fingers, or twist my hair while he talks, his eyes darting. A finger will go to my dimple, How did this get there? I explain, and he wants to know if he will get one, too.
He squeals Save me! Save me! at the scary parts, even though he knows the film by heart. I know it's pretense, this flattening himself behind me, or trying to fit along my curves, his bony little boy body shivery in make believe fright. A huge grin is on his face while he says, Let's be scared, okay? We both say, OH NO! RAPTORS!! and pull a blanket over our heads while the dog climbs up on us, barking. I can smell his little boy smell, as he curls into me, giggling.
When he comes home every afternoon, I meet him at the door, and he jumps into my arms, all elbows and knees and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, as I put my face in his... we both breath for a moment, taking in each other... he strokes my shoulder, talking talking talking. We do homework, snacks, go outside and watch clouds and I answer the same 4762 questions every day, from dinosaurs and What did they feel like? his disappointment palatable every time that I cannot tell him that answer, to the various functions different dogs served to what do I think that cloud looks like. In mid question, he is done, and goes to create his sandbox world, while I retreat to my book. We continue to get along, never mis-communicating. When he overloads, and starts to yell, I laugh....causing him to stop, and laugh with me... diffusing the situation. Sometimes, he annoys me, sometimes, I annoy him. I remind him his shoes are on the wrong feet, he tells me my glasses are on my head when I think I've lost them. The rest of the family comes home, he is absorbed into their group, he smiles back at me, runs for a last hug... my last afternoon with him... and I go downstairs from the job that stopped being a job some time ago.
I will miss him immeasurably.
There was a hint of rain in the air, he had no homework, and he didn't want to go outside, he said. We had cold pizza for snack, while he told me about the new attraction at the Bronx Zoo, and would I be able to go with the family when they go up to see it later in the summer. I explained again I was leaving, remember? We are going to the airport on Tuesday and bringing me to go to catch a plane, and I am flying far to the other end of the country, near California....he knows where that is...and the man who came over the night before is going to live in my apartment. Noel is a nice guy, remember? There will be someone new to watch him and R, and she is very nice, and has a car and will take him swimming.
He chews his pizza, humming to himself.
Can I go to the Zoo next weekend, then? I sigh, and we look at the calendar, so I can show him the dates, but, he runs off, not interested, saying he doesn't want to look, he wants to watch Lost World on Bob, please.
I stretch out on the long sofa, the soft leather is cool through my jeans and teeshirt. Lying on my side, I curl up my legs... sometimes, he will lie on his stomach along my body, his head on my shoulder, mahogany red hair tickles my neck, his feet near my knees, his fingers twined in my shirt, touching my hand....stimming, always stimming. He murmurs about the film, asking What do they call the male dinosaurs? What do they call the female ones? What kind is that dinosaur or that one? I respond, You know the answers, C... what are the answers? He sits up on my hip, I am his favourite place to sit or lean against when he reads or watches a film. He quickly rattles off the answers, giving me the names and when they lived. He reaches down and takes my hand, twisting his fingers in mine... or he'll rub the cotton of my shirt between his fingers, or twist my hair while he talks, his eyes darting. A finger will go to my dimple, How did this get there? I explain, and he wants to know if he will get one, too.
He squeals Save me! Save me! at the scary parts, even though he knows the film by heart. I know it's pretense, this flattening himself behind me, or trying to fit along my curves, his bony little boy body shivery in make believe fright. A huge grin is on his face while he says, Let's be scared, okay? We both say, OH NO! RAPTORS!! and pull a blanket over our heads while the dog climbs up on us, barking. I can smell his little boy smell, as he curls into me, giggling.
When he comes home every afternoon, I meet him at the door, and he jumps into my arms, all elbows and knees and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, as I put my face in his... we both breath for a moment, taking in each other... he strokes my shoulder, talking talking talking. We do homework, snacks, go outside and watch clouds and I answer the same 4762 questions every day, from dinosaurs and What did they feel like? his disappointment palatable every time that I cannot tell him that answer, to the various functions different dogs served to what do I think that cloud looks like. In mid question, he is done, and goes to create his sandbox world, while I retreat to my book. We continue to get along, never mis-communicating. When he overloads, and starts to yell, I laugh....causing him to stop, and laugh with me... diffusing the situation. Sometimes, he annoys me, sometimes, I annoy him. I remind him his shoes are on the wrong feet, he tells me my glasses are on my head when I think I've lost them. The rest of the family comes home, he is absorbed into their group, he smiles back at me, runs for a last hug... my last afternoon with him... and I go downstairs from the job that stopped being a job some time ago.
I will miss him immeasurably.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Give A Little Bit Of Yourself
WriteProcrastinator tagged me, yet again.
He's good about that, and usually, it's something to do with writing...so, I'm good with the tagging. This time, it's in connection with this blog, Memoirs of a Mommy
I don't read that particular online journal, however, I had a look, to see what was on, why she was passing out this award, what the whole deal was... and, it became an hour long adventure.
It seems her son, Noah, was born with a severe heart problem back in 2007. Only one thing, and one thing alone would save him; a heart transplant.
Organ donation is something so many people twitch about when it comes to discussing the issue, much less actually checking that little box on their license or on a form at the hospital. How do you decide you want to give your eyes or your skin or your lungs, kidneys, liver... your heart to someone when you die? Even more difficult is making the decision to donate a loved one's organs. To make that decision when it's your child's organs, your infant's organs... I cannot imagine the deep pain, the intense bravery that went into the decision the parents who offered up this ultimate gift so that other children could live... including Noah.
On 7 July 2007, Noah received another child's heart... and he was allowed to live. His family can still hold him, and love him, and laugh with him as he grows older... while another family grieves the loss of their child.
I often discussed this with the Ex. That should anything happen to one of our children, I'd want them to be organ donors, it's a cause I believed strongly in. I, myself, was marked as a donor on my license, and advocate more people should be, it's so easy, and, lets be honest, you aren't going to be using them, are you? He fought me on this, saying you should be buried with the same things you were born with. I asked him if he'd be getting the boys foreskins back... and did he realise the organs would be in a bag in their stomachs after the autopsy? Great lot of good they do there, reminding me of a turkey at Thanksgiving.
He was not too happy with me sometimes.
We never could agree on this matter, and thank God, it was something we never had to deal with. He refused to be one himself, so, I know it would have been a huge issue should something have happened. My feeling was, and remains, I would be happier knowing somewhere, my child lived on... seeing through another child's eyes, their heart beating on, their organs prolonging another life. It would soothe me, I believe, knowing this.
I cannot understand how people can go though life and not do something as simple as become a donor... knowing the long list, knowing how important it is, knowing you can save so many.
Register. Mark that box. Think of the good you can do.
It is the one great sadness I have now, that I can no longer be a donor candidate. Cancer kinda stops that, doesn't it?
It doesn't stop you, though.
Give a little bit of yourself, share the love.
Accordingly, happily, I am to nominate people with whom I am sharing the love.
Bill from Gainsville~ he's a good guy, and he makes me laugh.
Solomon ~ who works hard at finding gratitude in his daily life, making me search in my own.
Amber ~ who has a heart of gold
R~ who was there when I needed her
Take your Sharing the Love badge, with my love, please.... and pass on the word.
I mean, do we really want to go out like a turkey at Thanksgiving, when we can save lives?
He's good about that, and usually, it's something to do with writing...so, I'm good with the tagging. This time, it's in connection with this blog, Memoirs of a Mommy
I don't read that particular online journal, however, I had a look, to see what was on, why she was passing out this award, what the whole deal was... and, it became an hour long adventure.
It seems her son, Noah, was born with a severe heart problem back in 2007. Only one thing, and one thing alone would save him; a heart transplant.
Organ donation is something so many people twitch about when it comes to discussing the issue, much less actually checking that little box on their license or on a form at the hospital. How do you decide you want to give your eyes or your skin or your lungs, kidneys, liver... your heart to someone when you die? Even more difficult is making the decision to donate a loved one's organs. To make that decision when it's your child's organs, your infant's organs... I cannot imagine the deep pain, the intense bravery that went into the decision the parents who offered up this ultimate gift so that other children could live... including Noah.
On 7 July 2007, Noah received another child's heart... and he was allowed to live. His family can still hold him, and love him, and laugh with him as he grows older... while another family grieves the loss of their child.
I often discussed this with the Ex. That should anything happen to one of our children, I'd want them to be organ donors, it's a cause I believed strongly in. I, myself, was marked as a donor on my license, and advocate more people should be, it's so easy, and, lets be honest, you aren't going to be using them, are you? He fought me on this, saying you should be buried with the same things you were born with. I asked him if he'd be getting the boys foreskins back... and did he realise the organs would be in a bag in their stomachs after the autopsy? Great lot of good they do there, reminding me of a turkey at Thanksgiving.
He was not too happy with me sometimes.
We never could agree on this matter, and thank God, it was something we never had to deal with. He refused to be one himself, so, I know it would have been a huge issue should something have happened. My feeling was, and remains, I would be happier knowing somewhere, my child lived on... seeing through another child's eyes, their heart beating on, their organs prolonging another life. It would soothe me, I believe, knowing this.
I cannot understand how people can go though life and not do something as simple as become a donor... knowing the long list, knowing how important it is, knowing you can save so many.
Register. Mark that box. Think of the good you can do.
It is the one great sadness I have now, that I can no longer be a donor candidate. Cancer kinda stops that, doesn't it?
It doesn't stop you, though.
Give a little bit of yourself, share the love.
Accordingly, happily, I am to nominate people with whom I am sharing the love.
Bill from Gainsville~ he's a good guy, and he makes me laugh.
Solomon ~ who works hard at finding gratitude in his daily life, making me search in my own.
Amber ~ who has a heart of gold
R~ who was there when I needed her
Take your Sharing the Love badge, with my love, please.... and pass on the word.
I mean, do we really want to go out like a turkey at Thanksgiving, when we can save lives?
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Shameless Self Promotion, II
Yes, I am directing those who take the time to come here, elsewhere.
I should be ashamed, but, I'm not, because there are some very good pieces of work on this site and if you've not considered contributing, I think you should.
I should be ashamed, but, I'm not, because there are some very good pieces of work on this site and if you've not considered contributing, I think you should.
If you feel like it, have a read, leave a word or two, and I am, as always, thankful you consider dropping by here part of your day.
Thanks in advance for reading.
Thanks in advance for reading.
This one is for you, HRH.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Gifts
Things that make a day better come in many shapes and sizes.
1. My package from Solomon arrived, with wonderful candy, a great cereal bar, a nifty bamboo wash cloth, a book on wealth of all sorts...and, you could feel the good will from a very nice person on the other side of the pond. I had a swell time unwrapping it, and enjoying the scent of my coffee, the taste of the candy, the feel of the washcloth, and the beauty of my new soap... all in all, a treasure trove for my senses. How much more can someone who loves things to tickle her senses ask for?? woot!
2. Prince was in Brooklyn last night... Jukebox Stories hit town, and he and Brandon Patton put a greatly amusing (I never thought I'd laugh so hard at someone's experience with mushrooms), music packed (Brandon rocks) performance, that is intertwined with a murder mystery...ohhhh!!! The thrill for me was-- I guessed the murderer. It was simple, really...with Prince picking the killer, I only had to wait to see which of my two top names it would be. When Zack Efron was out of the running, I called out, "J'accuse!" and sure enough, it was Irina Slutskaya. He picked her for the reason I picked her; best name of the bunch. My gift for the correct guess?? Either a hat from the latest Keanu Reeves film...um, no? Or, the mystery gift in his backpack... hmmmm.... I went with that, and am now the proud owner of Moondance Alexander.(IMDb it) If you've wondered about Don Johnson, and if he's made any films lately, well, I have a copy to show he has! Not that this film shows anyone cares either way. Saying it sucks is being kind. Which was the entire idea, of course. There was a six degrees on this prize and the killer mystery... Irina skates, and Sasha Cohen, who is in the film, skates. Wow! Thanks, Prince! This gift was on top of the gift of time and some swell conversation with a friend, a nice locale.. and, again, a very entertaining evening. For a brief shining moment, we thought someone he knows knew my brother, and we both got very excited and did the OMG thing, but, we were wrong. Still, it was fun for that brief shining moment, and we still had a good long chat... I wish him and Brandon safe journeys.
3. The Investment has a good friend whose parents went to Colorado, and picked both him and his much loved car up, to take them back to Utah. So, when I get back there, I have two of my FMDkids in place. A dear gift to me, indeed.
As The Investment himself would say..... word.
1. My package from Solomon arrived, with wonderful candy, a great cereal bar, a nifty bamboo wash cloth, a book on wealth of all sorts...and, you could feel the good will from a very nice person on the other side of the pond. I had a swell time unwrapping it, and enjoying the scent of my coffee, the taste of the candy, the feel of the washcloth, and the beauty of my new soap... all in all, a treasure trove for my senses. How much more can someone who loves things to tickle her senses ask for?? woot!
2. Prince was in Brooklyn last night... Jukebox Stories hit town, and he and Brandon Patton put a greatly amusing (I never thought I'd laugh so hard at someone's experience with mushrooms), music packed (Brandon rocks) performance, that is intertwined with a murder mystery...ohhhh!!! The thrill for me was-- I guessed the murderer. It was simple, really...with Prince picking the killer, I only had to wait to see which of my two top names it would be. When Zack Efron was out of the running, I called out, "J'accuse!" and sure enough, it was Irina Slutskaya. He picked her for the reason I picked her; best name of the bunch. My gift for the correct guess?? Either a hat from the latest Keanu Reeves film...um, no? Or, the mystery gift in his backpack... hmmmm.... I went with that, and am now the proud owner of Moondance Alexander.(IMDb it) If you've wondered about Don Johnson, and if he's made any films lately, well, I have a copy to show he has! Not that this film shows anyone cares either way. Saying it sucks is being kind. Which was the entire idea, of course. There was a six degrees on this prize and the killer mystery... Irina skates, and Sasha Cohen, who is in the film, skates. Wow! Thanks, Prince! This gift was on top of the gift of time and some swell conversation with a friend, a nice locale.. and, again, a very entertaining evening. For a brief shining moment, we thought someone he knows knew my brother, and we both got very excited and did the OMG thing, but, we were wrong. Still, it was fun for that brief shining moment, and we still had a good long chat... I wish him and Brandon safe journeys.
3. The Investment has a good friend whose parents went to Colorado, and picked both him and his much loved car up, to take them back to Utah. So, when I get back there, I have two of my FMDkids in place. A dear gift to me, indeed.
As The Investment himself would say..... word.
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