This happened about a month ago, so I was not planning on writing about my hospital stay. But then I realized that I had the time to do it this week, and I wanted to laud the Cedars-Sinai personnel who were particularly helpful. And maybe impart some wisdom to you for your own future hospital visits, (which I sincerely hope you never need,) as well.

This pic is just to lighten the mood a bit. Doesn’t this device at the end of my bed look a bit like Wall-E? Or some other robot? Photo by Karen Salkin, as is the one above.

Just to end the curiosity and not be mysterious about it, I had another TIA (mini-stroke.) It had been a decade and a half since my first one, so it was quite a shock. (But I think my health is status quo now—knock on wood—so please don’t worry about me.)

Like an idiot, (because I should have known better,) I did not go to the hospital right away, which I’ll warn you about in a bit. But, the next day, when I told my Stroke Neurologist what had happened, he basically insisted that I jump right up and go. The part I hate is that, even though the plan was already to admit me at least overnight, I had to go in through the Emergency Room, which is the part that gave me pause to begin with. Besides that I detest that experience for myself, I’ve been told that I’m an Empath, therefore seeing so many people be miserable and in great pain literally hurts my insides. It’s awful. I’m sad for everyone.

But once I got to my room, (four hours later!,) the experience picked-up, due to the personnel. Actually, the goodness began in the ER, with the guy who checked my vitals, the young female ER doctor, the girl who made sure to give me privacy amongst the crowd while she asked me all the important questions, and a caring nurse named Rachel, who even voluntarily accompanied me to my room, because that bit happened right after the trauma of them attempting to give me the wrong test!!!

The info on the wall of my room. Photo by Karen Salkin.

I was put in a unit that was not the stroke wing; I was told it had something to do with the ER, and trust me, it featured much less luxurious accommodations. But luckily for me, it had so many kind people, who could really have reason to be crabby. Each person had something to offer. My faves were my daytime nurse Kaitlyn, (who put up with me the most,) my overnight nurse Darwin, and “Clinical Partner” Ruby, who gasped when she noticed my age on my “chart!” Wait—that should actually make her my #1 favorite! (And I looked brutally bad those two days! I told Mr. X that I looked like “a prune in a wrinkly sack.”) But really, they all took great care of me.

I even made a wonderful discovery, courtesy of Jael, the girl who did my very first diagnostic test, and the young chaplain, Joey. People just came in and out of my room all day and night, and Joey showed-up and told me he was “the chaplain.” After I calmed down from thinking that meant I was going to die, (as it does on all hospital TV shows,) I explained that I was Jewish. And, as it turned-out, so is he!!! I thought chaplains were always some other denomination. My bad.

So I started sharing with Joey how, when I had told Jael the night before that I always want to give people the respect of learning their names, she had talked to me about how each and every name has a meaning. So Joey asked if I knew my Jewish name, which, shockingly, I do! And when I told him that it’s “Chaya,” he excitedly told me that it means…life! I love that! Or course. But I should have known, and celebrated, that fact my entire life, (get it?,) because I’m so into the number 18 because it is the symbol for the word “chai,” which means—say it with me—life! (As in “l’chaim—to life!”) All this proves that it’s never too late to learn.

The strange little man icon on my IV tape! (He’s upside-down, to try to fool me!) Photo by Karen Salkin.

And then there was Lauren, the really fun girl who did my Transcranial Doppler test. She and I started writing a mystery movie on the spot when we spied a tiny little man icon on…the tape holding my IV needle in place!!! OMG. (It’s a good tale, so watch for it in a few years. From my mouth to God’s ears, right?) By the way—Lauren is the only person in the world who has ever heard my brain!!! I’m sure she’s honored. (That’s a pic of it at the top of this page.)

And let’s not forget my fabulous stroke doctor, Dr. Konrad Schlick. One of the reasons I chose him lo those many years ago is that…we have the same initials! No lie. But I truly lucked-out because he’s the best doctor ever! And when he knocked on my door that next morning, in regular person attire, I thought he was just a cute young guy who was coming to bring me something! But he was kindly there to assess my health. He could have just sent a member of his team to do it, so I really appreciate that he was the one to discuss my brain with me, especially because I did not at all care for the other two neurologists the hospital sent to talk to me. I had forgotten how un-charming many health care professionals can be.

My first night’s mystery dinner. Photo by Karen Salkin.

There were actually only a quartet of less-than-fabulous aspects to my stay. The first was that I had to disappoint a friend by having to cancel on her for an event that second night. The docs had promised to try their best to get me out of there in time to go, but it wasn’t even close. (I was finally released at around 9PM the second night, and I can’t tell you how depressing it is to leave a hospital at night instead of in the daytime. Better than spending another night there, but still…)

The second not great thing was the food. Ugh! Cedars-Sinai is the most prestigious hospital in all of California, yet I had better food in the lunchroom of a poor little Rhode Island elementary school when I was first teaching!!! Unfortunately, that’s not even close to an exaggeration. This fare was literally disgusting. I was starving by the time I got to my room on the first day, but I could not even eat the mystery spaghetti that they brought me. I just know there has to be a separate kitchen for the many celebs who stay there. Right? I doubt that Elizabeth Taylor was given this slop. Thank goodness I was smart enough to buy a cookie on the way to the hospital!!!

My room–see what I mean? Photo by Karen Salkin.

The third thing was more weird than bad. It’s that in my room, right next to my bed, was…a toilet!!! It took me several hours to realize that there was a slight curtain you could pull around you when you had to go! I sort-of loved having the facilities literally one step away because I’m a lazy bugger. But it also reminded me of a prison cell, which was sort-of frightening.

But the worst thing for me was that I was there for both nights of the NBA Draft, and the TV did not have…ESPN! At tony Cedars-Sinai hospital!!! How was that even possible?! Even all the doctors were shocked by that development! So what’s a resourceful gal to do? What did I watch on my room’s television screen instead, you might ask? The answer is…the foodservice menus! Of course. Have ya met me??? Fortunately they were sort-of long, so it took me a while to get through them. And memorize them. And plan my lengthy orders!

One of the food menus…on the TV screen!!! Photo by Karen Salkin.

Okay, now here’s my warning about health knowledge and action. If you’re experiencing something iffy, no matter how much you hate hospitals, especially emergency rooms, go to the hospital! Do not delay! They really are there to help. And don’t drive yourself. If you have time and are not going far, and have someone there with you, have them drive. But if it appears serious at all, call an ambulance! Your health is more important than whatever it costs. And if you think it’s a stroke, tell them that because each town has certain hospitals set up to deal with them correctly. (Here’s the article I wrote on stroke prevention, with more info that everyone should know: itsnotaboutme.tv/news/health-stroke-prevention.)

And here are several tips for you once you’re inside the hospital: Always wear a mask. Don’t worry about being a pain in the butt if you need to ring the nurse’s bell for assistance. Be nice. Learn people’s names. Order everything you possibly can in a meal. And then keep what you can’t eat because you may need it later. Ask for more pillows and blankets. You have a right to know everything about your own care. Ask for amenities because they most likely will not give them out voluntarily. Ask every question you can about your own health and care. Don’t settle for a doctor you do not care for; always ask for another one. And most of all—do not be hungry when you’re going to stay at Cedars!!!

On October 17, 2015, I woke up early, but stayed in bed, wasting time on my iPad. All of a sudden, I could not feel the entire left side of my tongue! It wasn’t tingling or numb-ish—it just wasn’t there. Over the next hour, it got worse—that side of my face was drooping, and then the feeling in my left middle fingers disappeared, as well.

My Mets-colored nails that I was rocking on the day of my stroke, all ready to watch the game! Photo by Karen Salkin.

I was hoping it was just Bell’s Palsy, which I’m sure is not fun, either, but, from what I understand, it’s much easier to deal with than a stroke. After an hour or so of this, Mr. X and I got dressed to go to the hospital, but then my symptoms just went away. I hate hospitals, and, in all idiotic honesty, the Mets were playing in the play-offs that day, and I did not want to miss the game, so I decided to stay home. As I said—idiotic.

So, the good news was that I lived a full week without help of any kind, (mainly life-saving meds,) before I finally received tests; the very dangerous results of them sent me right into the hospital. But, even though it was, thank goodness, only a mini-stroke, as opposed to a full one, it was a very severe one. One unkind doctor at Cedars told me, “You need to take this seriously—you have the Sword of Damocles hanging over your head!” He made me think that I was going to die at any moment!

But the Mets-themed nails and I wound-up in the hospital, with that weak breakfast. Photo by Karen Salkin.

And, in all seriousness, I actually could have. I’m still shocked by what I saw on my brain MRI. But the doctors slowly saved my life, and I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have had my care entrusted to the *best board-certified stroke neurologist in the country, Dr. Konrad Schlick, the most patient person in the world!!! He’s kept me alive for a decade! And counting, knock on wood. *[Note: That’s not just my opinion, by the way; it’s an official assessment. He doesn’t claim to be that, but I know it from other very reliable sources.]

And today is a full ten years since that fateful day. Whew. I’m beyond grateful. And I’m happy to have just coined the word “strokiversary” for this article; Mr. X is getting quite the kick out of it. All my fellow stroke survivors are welcome to use it! Yay us!

My brain! Photo by INAM staff.

This decade has not been a cakewalk, though, by any means. I had to revamp much of my life. I had to change many of my ways, including my carnivorous diet. There was a time in life where my main motto was, “If I don’t eat meat at least once a day, I feel like I’m going to die.” Mr. X actually wanted to have it engraved on a wall plaque for me, back when we were just friends. But after my stroke, I had to give up red meat. And all things white, such as pasta, rice, cereal, and bread. And I had to start going shopping for myself, to read every food label. And learn how to cook because I couldn’t trust restaurants. Parties were torture because I had to eschew all their fun fare.

And taking meds was the worst for a while. I was constantly bleeding. I was sitting in an audience one time, and my upper lip felt wet. I touched my face, and blood was just gushing from my nose, down onto my beautiful blue shirt! And I had to rush to the hospital the second I started slurring my speech, or if any weirdness was happening on the entire left side of my body. Still do, actually. Thank goodness I’ve always been a water drinker because I have to make sure to remember to not let myself ever get thirsty.

I was just being dramatic for this pic, taken by Mr. X. But I really was not happy to be in the hospital.

By the way—I’m not complaining, just explaining.

And then, at the end of that first year, it almost got worse for me. I went to the doc to get cleared to fly to New York, but instead, I found-out that I was due to have brain surgery! I was truly in shock. I left the office like a zombie. And the brain surgeon wasn’t as gentle as Dr. Schlick—he gave me all the percents of my chances to continue being alive! It was truly terrifying.

So I did something I had never done before, (nor since)—I asked my Facebook peeps for help. I asked them all to do everything they could think of in the prayers category, even going so far to suggest voodoo! And so many of them came through for me. Patty had her bible study group work on it. And Helaine was in Israel, so she put a good word in for me at the Wailing Wall. I’m sure Carol used a bunch of rosary beads. People who believe in crystals meditated over them. Everyone helped.

And it worked! After more tests, the surgeon called me himself and said, “I don’t understand it myself, but, somehow, your brain is getting the proper profusion of blood to it. So, no surgery at this time!” I’ve been trying to leave my brain to Cedars ever since. I mean it!

Of course, as with everything in life, Mr. X has been there every step of the way, doing everything for me. I think he’s been more worried for me than I’ve been for myself! He even began admitting how much he loves me, even in front of other people, which was a shock to everybody, not just me!

Another “being dramatic” pic of me having one of the brain tests in the hospital. Photo by INAM staff.

And just what have these extra ten years gotten me? I’ve had tons of good times, but much more importantly, I hope that I’ve made many people’s day with my constant crazy compliments to strangers. I’ve always done that, but now I do it all the time—people deserve to have their flowers. (I even ran after a girl in a supermarket to let her know she has zero cellulite in her leggings! She was shocked. And thrilled!) And I hope that I’ve helped others a lot in other ways, both on purpose and just with my presence. Best of all is that I’ve spent time making Mr. X’s life easier. And fun!

But I have sooo much more to accomplish.

So Happy Strokiversary to me! Here’s to at least a few decades more!

While Mr. X and I celebrate, (partly with the plan I outline in the first comment below,) please read my years-old Stroke Prevention article, so you can avoid what I went through. Here’s the link: itsnotaboutme.tv/news/health-stroke-prevention.

Shockingly to most of us SoCal denizens, both the Fox and Bruin movie theatres in Westwood Village closed down, (for either “good” or, more optimistically, “now,”) last week!

Even though I had not been to either of those two iconic movie theatres in LA in years, (partly due to the pandemic,) my heart sank when I read that they were closing. It came out of the blue. They are (or were) two institutions that I naively thought would outlast all of us! They were no-brainers.

The Fox Westwood Village, the day before it closed. Photo by Karen Salkin, as is the one of both theatres at the top of this page.

As a major part of my initial year in this city, they’ve meant a lot to me to this day! Every time I saw a film in one of them in the past couple of decades, I marveled that, in these days of banal multiplexes, these two gorgeous structures were still going, perhaps not “strong,” but still standing. I often felt like a Norma Desmond-era movie star just entering them.

Being that they both opened in the 1930s, (the Fox Village Opened in 1931 followed by the Bruin in 1937,) I can only imagine how glamorous all the premieres were at these stunning movie houses. Even in modern times, there were many premieres at both, but it seemed mainly at the Village. Occasionally when I’d be driving through there for one reason or another, (usually to pick-up food from one of the many eateries in the area,) I’d see one taking place. I had even been to a couple of openings there myself.

And now, incredibly sadly, they both closed on July 25, just two days before my anniversary with LA! I celebrate that milestone most years with a drive down the coast a bit, as I did that very first day, then up through Westwood to 501 *Gayley Avenue where I first landed as a teen. So the end of this major era is extra poignant to me. * [Note: In a strange bit of irony, when I tried to go to that building to take my yearly picture in front of it last week, the same day that I took the pix of the movie theatres, Gayley Avenue was also closed!!! Temporarily, of course, for construction. But, as frustrating as it was to have my anniversary celebration attempt thwarted, the synchronicity of my most special street in Westwood being closed, as well as the theatres, made me chuckle.]

The Bruin, the day before it closed. Photo by Karen Salkin.

My first job here, (yes, I did have actual employment before the long journey of being a “media personality,” first with my TV show and now this e-zine,) was as the “hot dog girl” at Stan’s Corner Shop in Westwood, which was catty-corner to—you guessed it—the Fox and Bruin movie theaters. I was so fortunate to get to look at their beauty every day. They were so majestic; we didn’t have anything so grand in either my native Brooklyn or the more upscale Manhattan.

And, the best part of those days was that, as a young worker in Westwood Village, I quickly became friends with many others who were employed in that small area, especially on that one block. So I got to see every movie in these two places free! It really was the best of times.

As the years passed, the Fox and Bruin were still my favorite film venues. And then when I started seeing Mr. X, we occasionally enjoyed a five-movie day, and that often included one or two in those houses.

The front of the Bruin the day before it closed. Notice the picture of Hugh Jackman as Wolverine on the left. Photo by Karen Salkin.

As Screen Actors Guild screenings came into play for me, whenever there was a choice of venue, I chose these two. Just even waiting on line to get in still felt special to me, like I was home.

And walking into them made me feel positively regal! There are no other movie house experiences like those two in the rest of Los Angeles; I always felt like Margot Robbie’s character, Sharon Tate, must have in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, even though I wasn’t there to see myself in a motion picture, as she was. (But a girl can always hope!)

The last film I saw at either of them was 2019’s Knives Out before it even came out. It was a SAG screening, with free popcorn and soda, and all the stars speaking after. What a happy memory to close-out this long era on.

The cast of Knives Out speaking after a private industry screening of their film, sitting in front of the curtain at Westwood’s famous Village theatre. Photo by Karen Salkin.

I’ve read that the Village might possibly reopen in the future if rumors are true that it was bought by a group of show business bigwigs that includes Jason Reitman, Christopher Nolan, Steven Spielberg, Guillermo del Toro, Bradley Cooper, J.J. Abrams and some others. They are purported to be planning to add a bar and restaurant, which makes sense since one entire side of that block, outside of one lone falafel shop that’s still hanging on, is now vacant! (What is happening to my beloved Westwood Village???)

I’m keeping hope alive that at least the gorgeous facade of the Fox Village, along with the retro one of the Bruin, will last in their next incarnations. I’m afraid that someone may just turn them into multiplexes, which I would not love, but that would at least be better than so many other alternatives.

Long live the Bruin and Fox theatres, however they can be saved! And a fond farewell to them if they cannot.

I was deciding between two already-written articles about recent fun LA events to publish today, but then it hit me—nothing is as important right now, (to my shallow self, anyway,) as the news that Hugh Jackman and his wife, Deborra-lee Furness, have just split up!!!

A recent pic of the Jackmans, before the split.

My teeth almost fell out of my head when I read the news on Friday! If Mr. X had learned of the split before I did, and tried to make me guess who it was, even with five hundred clues, I would never have guessed this one in a million years!!!

The weird thing is that, after having an undying non-stop crush on Hugh since I first heard him sing on SNL in 2001, I had told Mr. X that I was finally over Hugh just two nights prior to the break-up news! I’m not sure why the crush had lessened, but that he sat in Novak Djokovic’s box during this summer’s Wimbledon Men’s Championship certainly contributed to the demise. (Hugh’s Wolverine vibes didn’t help Novak, thank goodness—he lost to twenty-year-old Carlos Alcaraz.) Hugh had also tweeted his support of my least favorite player back then. So I believe seeing him do all that is where my love for him began to wane.

Just look at that gorgeous face!

But the embers of my flame never went totally away. My heart does still flutter a tiny bit when I hear Hugh talk or see him smile.

As you’re reading this diatribe on my love for him, the show biz folk among you may be thinking, “Does Karen not know he’s gay???” Well, first of all, I don’t know anything for sure unless I’ve witnessed it for myself! (We should all try to live by the old famous admonition, “Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear.”)

But of course I know that that’s the prevailing word on him. And even though I very rarely pass rumors around, I heard some inside info from an incredibly reliable source some years ago. So here it is:  When I saw Hugh’s amazing performance in The Boy From Oz in New York in 2004, I had breakfast shortly after with a producer of a different Broadway show, (whom I’ll call “Tom” here,) and we discussed my massive crush on Hugh, of course. Tom laughed and told me that everyone in the theatre scene there knows that Hugh is in a relationship with his assistant, John. I was shocked. I protested that, just because Hugh plays a gay icon, (Peter Allen,) in the show, doesn’t make him gay in real life. Tom insisted it was true and that everyone knew it but kept it as quiet as possible because they adored Hugh.

Hugh Jackman in the middle, (of course,) his wife on the right, and his assistant on the left, back in the day.

I still took it with a grain of salt, but then, I witnessed something that caught my attention. It was when Hugh won either the Tony for the show just a few months later, or when he won an Emmy the next year for hosting that earlier Tonys show. Whichever it was, he not only thanked his wife, but his assistant John, who was shown on camera in his seat, practically bubbling over with love. I literally gasped seeing their interaction. I didn’t want it to be true, (only so I would still have a chance with him, if my beloved Mr. X and I ever broke up, God forbid, and bite my tongue,) but it did sort-of explain his marriage to a chubby woman who is thirteen years older than he is. (Actually, his choice of an older, not-thin wife means I still have a chance! But I always have better footwear than her nerdy choices! That’s for sure.)

Just a couple of examples of Deborra-lee’s dreadful footwear! And there are sooo mnay more! This one was just the other day.

And this one was a few years ago. How has no one told her to do better with the shoes??? (Perhaps that’s why he’s leaving her.)

Then a few years later, I saw a picture on the internet, (of course,) of Hugh and another hunky guy at the beach holding hands. A few months after that, a woman whose show business website I occasionally wrote for called me when I was packing for a trip, so I wasn’t paying attention while we chatted. For some unremembered reason, we got on the subject of the Jackmans, and I absentmindedly mentioned that picture I had seen. The woman was gay herself, and in the biz, so I figured it was not a big deal. But she went nuts on me, saying she was friends with Mrs. Jackman, who she was sure would “not stand for” Hugh being gay. She was so upset that she never called me again, even though I was still supposed to be writing for her endeavor! If I hadn’t been distracted by actively packing during our convo, I would not even have mentioned it. And I’ve kept that whole Broadway rumor to myself ever since, as though Hugh was my friend whose secret I was protecting.

But gay or straight, it doesn’t matter, not even one little bit. Hugh Jackman is still my second choice to Mr. X. But a word of warning to him…Paul McCartney is still waiting in the wings…of my heart.

High Jackman and Deborra-lee Furness on their wedding day, looking sort-of like a boy and his mom, don’t you think?

Whatever happened between the Jackman duo, it has worked for all these years, and I think it’s very brave of them to do whatever it is they want to do solo now, especially in these awful days of celebs’ every move being watched, recorded, and scrutinized by strangers.

The one thing I absolutely do believe is that Hugh and Deborra-lee are best friends and will always be.

Someone on a comments page when the news hit last week wrote that people don’t break up after this long together if one or both of them don’t have a new love interest on tap. I assume that person will be on Hugh’s part because he has a gazillion options, while I feel that poor Deb doesn’t have any. And I semi-agree; why rock the steady boat with someone you’ve loved for decades, on whatever level it was, except for a newer shinier option?

So, anyway, we can all speculate all we want about why the Jackmans broke-up, (or were together to begin with, for that matter,)  but I doubt we’ll ever find-out. And it’s none of our business, anyway!  We should all just wish them the best, and then focus on our own lives.

One of the pix of Hugh Jackman and a friend at the beach several years ago. And this is the last I’m going to say on the subject.

But here’s one funny thing about this situation: When I first saw the news on Friday, after I picked my jaw up off the floor, I just knew I had to comment on social media about it. So I jotted off a quick little missive about how Mr. X has to watch his step now. I originally wrote, “This is shocking! Mr. X better be nice to me now–my celebrity crush is finally single!!! But Hugh Jackman has to shave that beard first,” that last part referring to his facial hair in the pic. And then about ten minutes, later, I realized that people probably thought I was referring to his wife! (For you innocents among us, that’s how relationship partners of gay people are referred to, because they cover them up.) So I had to go back and add an explanation of my use of “beard” to my posts.

Lastly, no matter how huge my crush on Hugh is, the demise of his long marriage still saddens me. I may be jokey about it all, but I really do wish those two, and their children, the best. Now all of us, including yours truly, need to leave that family alone.

Don’t get excited—it was not my wedding this past week-end! I was just a guest at one.

A pretty place setting at the wedding dinner. Photo by Karen Salkin, as is the one above.

In the past, pals have asked me to review their weddings, parties, and events. (As a matter of fact, just the other day, one friend mentioned the time I “reviewed” her wedding on my former TV show, which she and her husband asked me to do because they wanted to show it to their future children.) And I’m always happy to do so; I love that they’ll have my thoughts preserved for posterity.

But this time, it was not discussed, so for now, at least, (because I believe in people’s privacy,) I’m keeping my opinions, though all good ones, to myself. (Well, I’ll share them with my pals, of course, but not with the public. Yet.) But the week-end was all really wonderful, and I’m thrilled for everyone involved.

The only problem for me was that the festivities were out of town, in Solvang and surrounding areas, so it was a big deal to go to it. Mr. X was injured and therefore could not accompany me, (although, how often has he gone anyplace with me when he’s healthy?,) so I was totally on my own.

The highway from Los Angeles to Solvang. Photo by Karen Salkin.

And, as you may have figured if you’ve ever read this e-zine before, I never go anywhere alone, let alone to an occasion of this magnitude! I could not have ever envisioned myself attending any wedding by my lonesome, let alone a three-day out-of-town affair! And I sold my car during the pandemic, with no time to buy a new one yet, so even physically getting there was a big problem. Even if I did have my own wheels, I’ve rarely driven that far by myself, and definitely not for almost a decade, during which I’ve become a wimp!

Karen Salkin with her new bestie, Rod Bastanmehr, before the actual wedding began, modeling the thoughtful little paper parasols that were given out because some of us sat in the sun there. Photo by Harry Calianes.

It turned-out that many of the guests drove there from my area of Los Angeles, but the bride did not have time to coordinate it for me, which I totally understand. She did try to figure-out a train to Solvang for me, and coordinated that little trip with a friend of hers, but it turned-out to be not just a train, but two of them, then a bus, (which allows only carry-ons, and drops you in a park,) and then a taxi to your hotel. Whew. So that would have been a hassle and a half.

But I so wanted to witness the happiness of the bride, whom I have known for decades, since she was a little girl, so I decided to throw on my big girl panties, and get there any way I could. And, as usual for me, Mr. X came to the rescue big-time, and lent me his car. So off I went.

But I could not have done that without the help of a village. Seriously. Despite all my crazy travels and shenanigans back in the day, (like hitchhiking around the country by myself and joining a circus!,) I like everything to be easy, comfortable, and convenient now. And safe!

So I just want to thank everyone who helped me get there, or throughout the week-end, in one way or other. Some tried to find me accommodations or a car rental or had other suggestions, some assisted me while there, and others just leant moral support from the get-go until I got home. My friend Sheila even stayed on the phone with me for my entire drive to one of the vineyard venues, where I was the only car on the Twins Peaks-ian road, and scared out of my wits!

The famous Pea Soup Anderson’s eatery also has an Inn!!! Who knew?! (Well, now YOU all do!) Photo by Karen Salkin.

So my major and genuinely heartfelt thanks go to:

Manny Greitzer, the father of the bride, (which I can’t believe I forgot to say to him in my best Cathy Moriarty voice from Raging Bull!!!,) who is also my optometrist in Greenwich, Connecticut, so he was kind enough to bring me some eye supplies.

Mallory Blair, (now Crichton,) the bride herself, who, in the middle of her busy pre-wedding sked, helped me figure-out how to get there.

Lyndsey Green, of First in Service Travel, my travel agent extraordinaire, (and friend, who nixed some of the places I suggested because she knows that kind of thing better than any of us!)

Marilyn Anderson, (who knows how to get the best deals everywhere,) for doing tons of research to help me find the smartest deals on cars and accommodations.

Shirley Greitzer, Lucia Singer, Libby Slate, and Jodi Jackson, who also offered suggestions on the best places to stay.

Sheila Tracy and Jeanine Anderson, for all the phone support.

Rod Bastanmehr, for offering to help me navigate all the travel, and although we wound-up not going together, made me feel welcome there from the start.

Dominique and Yves Mamou, mes amies nouveau de Paris, who always made me feel comfortable and never alone all week-end.

Deon and Cameron, the two coolest guys ever, for showing up at exactly the right time, and accompanying me to my room in the dark late at night, and seeming totally happy to do so! (And for letting me hug their very muscle-y bodies many times before the week-end was over!)

Harry Calianes, who wound-up shuttling over to, and sitting with me at, the actual nuptials portion of the week-end, because his beautiful girlfriend, Emily Brooke, was part of the wedding.

And especially to my friend, Em herself, for sharing Harry to begin with! I would have been so lonely there without him!

Adam Figman, who sat on my other side for the ceremony, (because his girlfriend was one of the two bride’s attendants,) for talking sports with me the whole time before it all began

Absolutely everyone at Pea Soup Anderson’s Inn, who did everything from carrying my bags when that wasn’t their job, to giving me directions many a time, to running a lovely inn that looks exactly like its pictures and wound-up being the absolute best deal in town!

Marc Winer, Judy Rothman, and Ben Clopot who encouraged me to go to begin with, when I was thinking it was way too much of a hassle.

Jacquelin Tevis, the adorable Events Coordinator at Hotel Ynez, (where the farewell brunch was on Sunday,) who helped me stay awake enough to get back to LA by coming to my rescue with a huge (and delicious) chocolate bar when I told her I was worried to drive home because I don’t drink coffee, and needed some other form of caffeine!

And, of course, Mr. X, without whom none of it would have been possible, especially because he insisted on lending me his car, leaving himself to have no transportation all week-end, should the need arise! What a guy!

Karen Salkin closing out the week-end with the beautiful Greitzer fam during the farewell brunch at Hotel Ynez. (L-R) Emily Brooke, Mallory Blair, Manny Greitzer, and Karen Salkin. Photo by Harry Calianes.

And what a lucky girl I am to have so many people in my corner! I thank them all from the bottom of my heart.

And perhaps I’ll get around to doing the actual review of all the week-end proceedings some time down the road. Just not the dark, scary one!