Musings and Mirth

About Me

I spend way too much thinking about me. This is the blank space where that paragraph should be.

I Don’t Feel Bad About My Neck. Yet.

So, as someone once put it, life is an endless sea of humiliation. It was true then and it is true now. Hitting a psychic low point is never fun. Eventually, the sun comes up and you believe that life is, while not perfect, okay. And it’s not so bad. But feeling bad about oneself, namely one’s looks, especially if you’re a woman, is like a slug in the gut and it lingers. One’s only alternative is to develop a “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. But here’s another alternative. Read “I Feel Bad About My Neck” by Nora Ephron. I downloaded the audio book off of iTunes and have been listening to it all day. It has greatly lifted my spirits because Ephron is funny, passionate, worthwhile. She is a great reader, a foodie from way back, a great observer of life much the way Mark Twain was – truthful but bemused. There may only be one Ephron but she gives me hope that now that I’ve pretty much stopped being a “pretty girl” there is somewhere else to go. Read the book. It’s so good. The chapter on having a purse alone is worth the price of the book.

What was THAT All About?

Well, my domain name registration,, expired. Thus, the hosts helpfully parked it whilst I got my proverbial shit together. And now, at last, we’re back in business. This morning I took the iPhone tour. I am at a spiritual crossroads of what I need versus what I want. If I take the little bit of extra money I can squeeze out for an iPhone (which I really really really really really REALLY want) I can’t really send my daughter to one week of horse camp, which she would really really really REALLY love. In the end, it’s no contest. The kid wins out. But because the marketing machine over at Apple has so embedded my psyche, I’m currently figuring out how I can earn enough from a freelance job and/or cleaning someone’s toilet to buy the iPhone. I feel like Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka, “I want it and I want it NOW!”

Truth be told I can wait on the Iphone and SHOULD wait. I bought the first generation Macbook Pro because I couldn’t wait and though I love my machine I should have waited until they worked out a few specific kinks. The iPhone will no doubt have things about it that annoy customers that will be fixed with the second and third generations. I have my ATT contract on hold until such time as I decide to upgrade with their revolutionary device. Such is life as a single mother: you have to cover all bases and not act selfishly. So horse camp it is.

Goodbye Tony, Hello Feature Film?


Tonight’s Soprano’s finale left the story wide open for future projects involving Tony. It was deliberately ambiguous, but satisfying nonetheless. Why? Because the puzzle pieces fell into place, not with a bang but a whimper. It was tragic is other ways besides the main character dying. Sweet in a way too because they all ended up in a diner, with Tony watching his back and eating onion rings. What a great series – the fact that it’s over is the only disappointing thing about it.

More about this on my other website,

The Art of Being Sued

It really sucks to be sued. This is the conclusion I’ve reached after being essentially a total nobody, building up my site ( and then having it reach a certain level of success only to see myself being sued for using the Oscar name. I decided not to fight it but to settle. I’ve changed the name to Awards Daily and have broadened it slightly to include TV and Theatre. Where it will go, IF it will go are still unknowns. I will devote myself to making the new name as much of a success. I have probably lost my place in line and it will take some time building up a new audience. I have to believe people came for the forums and for the content. I guess I will have my answer by awards season.

It Finally Happened

My daughter Emma turned nine last weekend. As usual, the birthday had ramped up expectations it couldn’t possibly meet. I did my best to scramble around, spend every dollar I had to make it one to remember and it was okay. She got an American Girl doll, which was the only thing she wanted. I also bought her an antique gold locket. We had spent a very loud, very chaotic dinner at El Torito with the family the night before. As it turned out, the strawberries and cream cake of legendary status from the Phoenix bakery in Chinatown wasn’t as good as expected. Walking into the bakery once, my daughter and I sampled the individual cakes they sell that are square and covered with cream frosting. The famous cakes are the ones with almonds on the side. They are lacking in strawberries and a little bit dry. I think I can make a better one.

But the real change in Emma happened yesterday. In first grade, she liked to be walked in, which meant finding parking where there never is any parking, and walking onto the campus in whatever I slept in the night before. That’s how it usually goes. We had yet another morning meeting for parents and so I was showered and looked almost human. But Emma was walking about five feet in front of me. I walked faster to keep up and then I realized that she didn’t want me to walk with her. She was —embarrassed—to be seen with me. Egads.

I asked her, “Emma, are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” And she answered me simply, “yes.” “Why?” I pleaded, desperate to hold on to that mother/child bond I’ve grown to love after eight years. “None of the other kids have their moms walk them in.” “Oh.” And then I repeated the mantra, “don’t suffocate your child, don’t make her feel guilty for being normal and growing up, stop thinking of yourself, it’s NOT ABOUT YOU for godssake.”

A moment later, I felt her little arms wrap around me with a guilt-hug. Just by asking the question I’d thrown the poor kid into a wave of that kind of mother guilt that ruins lives. I plan to give her her space and never walk her in. They look so small and harmless, those screaming children on the playground. But they represent Emma’s whole world in ways I can’t see but certainly remember from my own miserable elementary school experience. The mean kids shoot looks only other kids can see. That’s just the way it is.

It’s a shame we can’t stop time. We can’t keep kids from growing up and we can’t keep ourselves from growing old. It is the way it all works. Life moves in one circular direction, dragging us with it like dirt on a tire.