maybe far away

I not Halle! I Annie! 

I've been thinking a lot about my sister Halle today. I just sent her a birthday present and wonder when she will receive it. She's in the middle of the Sequoia National Forest or somewhere. I remember exactly where I was when I was told that she was born... I was under a glass side table in my father's den. Please remember I was nine.

I should spend more time under tables, don't you think?

(About the caption: Halle insisted that she was Little Orphan Annie for months when she was little. If we called her by her real name, she would be FURIOUS. She was a highly entertaining child.)

new ending

March 11, 1302 was Romeo and Juliet's wedding day, according to Shakespeare.

important question

 
How much cuteness can the world handle?
(That's my sweetie with our adorable nephew.)

It's waaaaay too cute. I better get back to my patented bitter complaining tomorrow or y'all will think I've gone soft in the head.

costume ball

I just learned (much to my chagrin) that when you get married, you can either be yourself and have a funky party at a 156-year-old synagogue on the Lower East Side with creaky stairs and decrepit walls and give your grandmother a heart attack (god forbid), or you can pretend that you live on the Upper East Side, act like you used to take tea with Jackie O., feed everyone filet mignon... and make a lot of people comfortable and happy.

Those acting classes from seventh grade are gonna pay off. (Even though they were horrible and oddly experimental. And I actually opened a show by walking in a circle slapping a metal spatula against my hand to the Talking Heads' "Psycho Killer." Yes. I. Did. Ask Geoff Gibson. Qu'est-ce que c'est, indeed! And you ask me why I am the way I am. Ha!)

The good part is that no matter what it's gonna be a swell affair. Besides honeymoons are for shaking off the glitter from the costume ball and getting back to what's it's all about: lurv!

Right?

Now on with show.