Oh for the Love of Pete.Tagged. Enough Already!

So I was tagged, and I responded here.

I am still getting tagged, so for the two of you who aren't completely sick of me blathering endlessly about myself, here ya go...

One of the first jobs I had here in Los Angeles was as an SAT tutor. I could only teach the verbal portion. I need tutoring of my own in math. I hate math. I was assigned my very first student. I arrived at a very beautiful home in Santa Monica. My student had not yet arrived home. He was with his dad in Chinatown, getting acupuncture. I chatted with his mom for a bit. I realized after about four seconds, that the child I would be tutoring, my very first student ever, was the son of OLIVER FRIGGIN STONE. Let's just put it this way, the kid did not need tutoring. He knew more vocabulary than I did. He was brilliant. A couple of years later, Oliver Stone thanked me for helping his son get into Princeton. Uhm, the kid was a shoe-in.



Speaking of tutoring, I used to do a lot of tutoring in Malibu. On MORE THAN ONE occasion, I was asked to move my car.


The families didn't want my vehicle anywhere near their homes. They did not want to catch a glimpse of my sturdy Subaru through their windows. Snooty McSnootersons.

I admit, the car is no beaut, and I could write an entire week's worth of posts about my fights with Steven when we reached an impasse on the viability of said vehicle. Here is where it is now...

(But that was years later, those Malibuites were really snobby.)

I was a vegetarian for twenty years. Steven was one for fifteen. The day we went back to meat... well, that was one hell of a beautiful day....












I wish my husband felt more like this...



and less like this...


Grief is a bitch.


I was yelled at this summer for standing too close to a melting ice sculpture at LACMA...


I like my neighborhood because of things like this...






I got myself a P.O. Box for this blog. The address is on my sidebar. I got it because I have to have an address for a Stage 9 Project that I am working on, and because this letter from the Peevish Postmaster Lire was a bright spot in a truly craptastic summer.














Lastly, a current picture taken by Julie's husband Marshall has confirmed my twin-dom with the world's oldest woman. Note to you young people, don't raise your eyebrows every two seconds, you will get wrinkles...Lots of them. Take heed.





Okay, there you have it you tag happy bloggers, now go and do a movie/music soundtrack tag .

Oh, and an extra bonus because I love you guys...

I know where God keeps his books...

Big Sur.