I allowed my two beautiful daughters to survive their teenage years, and now they are charged with putting up with me in my dotage – a fair exchange. They have promised to tell me if I try to look like a lamb instead of the eighty-one-year old ewe that I am.
Working with Orson Welles required a tough hide and a determination to do a good job, whether he cooperated or not! Here’s how a little fakery saved the project!
I was 14 when I had my first date with a boy named Billy Erwin. He was adorable and is still my FB friend. After several marriages and being widowed twice, I recently began dating again at 80. The experiences were different in the extreme! Read on for details.
No, I’m not ill, not even sniffly, but my writer’s voice has been stifled by inactivity for too long. Like any other part of us, that elusive element writers call their voice can go dormant with lack of use. Here’s my declaration of intent to jog that part of me back into action!
Sixty years ago, we were tall, blond knock-outs, and we had a glorious time celebrating life together. When the two of us – Fran at six feet and me at five foot nine – entered a party, everyone knew we had arrived. Many times we were taken for sisters.
The question for this newly widowed, newly octogenarian, newly single woman is what’s next? Or as Miss Peggy Lee so artfully asks, “Is that all there is?”
Rumors of my being captured by pirates, spirited away to the stratosphere by aliens, or worse, are greatly exaggerated. It’s true that I’ve been buried, not by six feet of soil, but by bushels of fabulous French food!