happy christmas

hope it's a good one, y'all.

my girls keep me sane and help me remember it's just not that big of a deal (whatever it is that's driving me crazy at any given moment).

PS--
Do the chicks in my tribe have great hair, or what?

In memoriam

My beloved friend, Syd, passed away Tuesday.

He was one of the most chivalrous, brilliant, witty, honorable, adorable men I have ever known, and the best damn set designer in the world. He didn't design sets as much as he created worlds, and I always felt like I was passing through a magic glass that transcended space and time whenever I stepped out onto a set dreamed up by Syd.

He was a World War II veteran, one of the quiet heroes who saved the world, then went home to marry the prettiest girl in the village and raise a family. We are all diminished by the passing of his generation. Syd was the heart and soul of our theatre and one of the loves of my life.

Dear Santa Baby,

I want the fireman on the left. I think he can fit into your sack just fine, no problem, since it's a magic sack and all.

I expect him under the tree this year because I have been a good girl.

Well, mostly.

There's a few cool things about living in Inferno (Florida) -- when the guys on the east coast of the state shoot things up into space, we can go out in the back yard and oooh and ahhh over it about 15 seconds later.

Here's what the shuttle launch looked like tonight from our beach as it streaked over the Gulf of Mexico. Pix snapped by my esteemed friend, Michael.

the lovely Barb is hanging in

here's a short letter from Barb for those of you who have been wondering. She's finishing the latest round of chemo soon and reveling in the holidays.


Monday, November 27

I didn't feel good at all when I woke up, but as the day progressed I felt good. I just went on decorating and have it all finished except for a few things. We aren't doing the tree until this weekend.

I go to get my booster shot today. Then I will come home and do some wrapping. My hair is kind of growing in (not really), it looks like peach fuzz and it is white. I told Josh I look like the guy in Back to the Future. God there is no such thing as having sex appeal when you have cancer.

Well, I don't have that much to tell you. Take it easy and here's hoping that you had a stress free Monday. Love me

I have to interview Santa this evening. That would be the fake Santa at the mall. The one, who in the words of Buddy the Elf, (loosely paraphrased), "smells like beef and cheese and sits on a throne of lies..."

I whine to the Guy in the Boxers about how my career as a journalist is so pathetic. I mean, interviewing the Santa at the mall for chrissake?

The GITB says I should do an x-rated version of the Actor's Studio:

"Santa, How often do you slip the yule log to Mrs. Claus?"

"How big is your yule log?"

"Do you ever get really plotzed and stagger out to the barn, kick down the door, weave meanacingly in the the dim light of the broken threshold, swinging your whisky bottle for emphasis as you scream: 'Okay, Rudolph, you cheeky little publicity whore, won't you guide my sleigh tonight? Heh, heh, heh...'?"

Yeah, my editor will LOVE that. At least I get to interview firemen next week. An evening at the firehouse with real live firemen. Ooooooh, I can't wait to ask: "Can I slide down your pole?" I guess I should make sure they have one. Wait, I think the firehouse is one-story. Damn it.