I came back to Los Angeles last week, to be here for tomorrow’s major endeavor.  I needed to make sure I was back in time to vote…for Hillary, of course!

On the plane, heading back to LA. Photo by Karen Salkin.

But, before I go back to sharing the tales of my glamorous LA life, I still have over another week of East Coast stories to go!

If you guys think I’m on the go here in LA, you’ve never seen anything like my schedule in New York for those three weeks.  I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’m me!

While in the Big Apple and environs, I reviewed six restaurants, a bunch of parties, two musicals, three screenings, and a partridge in a pear tree, (which was lovely, by the way.)  And a hair salon and an out-of-town bed-and-breakfast, as well!  I spent time not only in Manhattan, (more than I ever had before in my whole life, actually,) but also Brooklyn; Greenwich, Connecticut; New Hope, Pennsylvania; Lambertville, New Jersey; and Danbury, Connecticut.  In three weeks!!!  In that span of time in Los Angeles, I often spend the majority of it in my house! (I know you’re surprised by that fact, but after I live all the events, I need time to write about them! Unfortunately, my thoughts on what I’m doing don’t just get magically transferred to the page from my brain, complete with images!)

Just one of my over 2,500 images of NY in those three weeks. Photo by Karen Salkin.

I seriously don’t know how I did it there.  You need to have lots of stamina, and be in uber- great shape, to live in, or even just hang-out in, New York City!  A majority of the residents look really worn-down, but you just know that they have to be more physically fit than we car-riding West Coast folks are.  I ate like a garbage truck for those three weeks, but didn’t gain even one ounce of weight.  I couldn’t figure that out until I realized how much I walked in that city.  And how much stuff I schlepped there, too!  You have to bring all your possessions with you every time you leave the house, because you never know what you’ll need to get through the day.  Each morning, you have to pack as though you’re going on  a day trip, which you virtually are!  (I often left my headquarters by 10AM, and did not make it back there until midnight!)  In LA, your life is in your car.  I barely even carry a purse here!

So anyway, keep an eye out for the rest of my New York reviews that are yet to be published, especially if you live out that way, or are planning to visit that fair city in the near future. (Or ever, actually. Most everything I’ve been writing about will be there forever!) Mixed in will be some of my new LA reports, and by Thanksgiving, we should be back to all-LA all the time.

Please vote for Hillary Clinton today! If you care about America at all, you know it’s the right thing to do!

Until April, that is. I had such a wonderful month in NY this trip that I vowed to not wait another two-and-a-half years to return!

And for today, I beg everyone reading this in America to get out there and vote for Hillary! This time, it’s really not about me—it’s about the safety and the good and the future of this country. If (God forbid, bite my tongue) the Presidential election does not go the right way, the rest of my reviews from here on out may just be coming to you from Canada!!!

For years, I have been hesitant to share my great webmaster, Lou. I was afraid that once he got even more busy with other clients, he wouldn’t have much time for me anymore, so why would I contribute to putting myself in that position?

This is how I picture Lou, designing his websites!

He’s so fabulous that he doesn’t just do things for me; he’s taught me how to fend for myself in many website situations, as well. (You all know that famous saying, don’t you? “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” It’s oh so true. I just wish it wasn’t about fish because I’m not a fan of that food.)

So, now that I’m a bit self-sufficient, (and also, since I’ll be engrossed in the Olympics for the next three weeks, I won’t be having any emergencies connected with this e-zine because Lou and I have already worked ahead, so this is the best time to share him,) I want to do a solid for those of you who have been here to support me on INAM, and refer you to Lou. You know I always believe in paying it forward. And I’m confidant that many of you will benefit from working with him as much as I have.

So, if you need to have a website designed or launched, (small and medium-sized ones are his specialty,) you can reach him here: lou@internetmotion.com

Just please don’t take him away from me permanently!

I was planning on taking the day off, but I keep getting asked about so many topics, that I figured let me use today to answer of few of those queries. (And I thank all of you for writing them to me! Keep them coming!)

So, here are my thoughts on several varied unrelated topics. (I saved the most requested one for last, so be sure to read that far!) I cover many of them with my daily tweets, so, if you’re ever curious what I think about some timely issue, you can always follow me on Twitter, and be among the first to know. @MajorCelebrity

The last picture I took of Doris Roberts, in September 2015. Photo by Karen Salkin.

1) Now, let’s begin with the sad news of the death of funnywoman Doris Roberts yesterday. Over the last decade or so, I saw her about five times a year, because, luckily for me, we were invited to many of the same events. I didn’t know her, per se, but shared a passing smile every now and then. The last time I saw her was right before the Oscars, when we sat next to each other at a beautiful luncheon in West Hollywood. She seemed a bit frail then, but I give her so much credit for getting dressed and made-up, and being out and about. That’s the way to be, in my humble opinion–living life as long as you can. And she still looked so good that I didn’t have a clue that she was ninety! I was shocked to learn that. It will be weird to not see her anymore. The events will certainly not be the same without her. RIP Doris.

2) On that subject, here’s one more depressing-yet-uplifting thought: Many of the Old Hollywood icons are leaving us. So, while the dumb among us choose to idolize non-talented peeps, like the Kardashians and their ilk, how about the rest of us celebrate the oldies-but-goodies in our midst, and learn as much from them as we can, while we still have the opportunity.

Adam LaRoche. Doesn’t he just look like a douchbag?

3) I already tweeted about this–a month ago–but Adam Laroche is an idiot. In case you’re not familiar with him, he’s the Chicago White Sox player who quit at the start of the season because the management of the team asked him to scale back bringing his fourteen-year-old son to the clubhouse every day. Yes, you read that right—he brought the kid every…single…day! That is so abnormal! And unfair to the other players. The kid even wore a uniform and had his own locker! Can you imagine if every player brought their children with them to work every day?! And forget baseball players—just think if one of your co-workers did it, in any job. It’s kind-of mental, if you ask me. (And you guys actually did!)

And Adam’s delusional—he’s actually stated that none of his teammates minded having the kid around all the time. Yeah, right. They didn’t say it to his face, but I’m sure there was plenty of behind-his-back grousing. So, good riddance to them both. He wasn’t a very good player anymore, anyway, and, obviously, a worse teammate!

4) I had horrible nightmares last night—about the new show, The Family! I usually don’t watch shows that have so much sadness and child abuse built-in, but this one is sort-of riveting. I guess the very last shot from this week’s episode (that I watched yesterday) really got to me, and haunted my sleep. But, at least, in my version, it got resolved in a good way, right away. I doubt that will happen on TV, especially if the show gets picked-up for next season. Darn. And, I guess, yay.

The ball was clearly still in the hands of the Thunder player, in white, when the clock signalled the game was over. But they thought he had beaten it, and celebrated prematurely. How depressing for that team when it was ruled “no basket.”

5) Yes, the ending of the Mavericks-Thunder game last night was one of the most exciting NBA play-off games that I can remember. I’m so glad that I try to watch every play-off game each year, just to witness moments like that one!

6) Speaking of “teams,” some people are thrilled that Michael Strahan is leaving the morning show Live, and some are sad. I’m in the what-I-assume-is-the-majority of “who cares?” I’ll never understand how he has even one major broadcasting job, let alone three…at one time! His awful lisp makes me not even be able to listen to him. He’s not particularly smart, witty, or charming, and not even good-looking! So, why are multiple entities hiring him?!

And Kelly Ripa is just the most annoying, full-of-herself, person on television. She seems like she cares about no one, including her audience, but herself. If she has a say in her new male co-host, you know it will be someone even more boring than she, because she doesn’t want to be outdone, (which would be very easy for one to do.) Regis was annoying, and became a caricature of himself, but at least his presence is what put the show on the morning map!

7) On the political front—Donald Trump is disgusting, scary, and speaks like an idiot; Bernie is more than a bit too angry, like a scary old uncle; and Ted Cruz is just downright creepy. With how Hillary got her possibly-cheating husband elected, and then out of his sex scandal, was just brilliant, so my money’s on her to set this country right. I don’t care about any of the other supposed “scandals” around her, as long as she gets us back on track. (That being said, I’d still vote for the Bernster, if he’s the candidate. Either way, it will be fun to have a first in my lifetime—either the first woman President, or the first Jewish (and from Brooklyn, to boot) one! It’s a win-win!)

Cute, appreciative Lindsay Arnold.

8) And yes, this is the most boring season of Dancing With The Stars…ever! There’s really not one true “star” on there, and they all look like deers in headlights. The pros seem basically bored themselves, like they could all use a big break. No one’s performing with gusto, (except maybe Mr. X’s favorite pro, cute little lip-challenged Lindsay Arnold.) I, who’s kept and paid for an extra phone line just to be able to help-out the deserving contestants on shows like this one that have call-in limits, hasn’t voted for anyone even once! The best one is that poor little fighter girl, who, despite looking like the head cheerleader at any school, says she’s never had a friend. That alone should win her some votes. But the judges, and most likely the public, as well, are trying to make Nyles, the deaf guy, win, because everyone loves to back a famous person with a disability. (Except for Oscar Pistorius, of course. No one but me believes his story, it seems. But that’s a topic for another Random Topics day.)

9) And while we’re on DWTS, let me leave you with the topic I get most requested to write about—how uber-creepy Erin Andrews ruins our enjoyment of the show all the time!!! Besides the obvious annoying things about her– her whiny, nasal voice; her awful pronunciation of so many words; her thinking she’s amusing when she’s so far from it; her telling all the duos who just danced to “get over here!,” and then make them do a move she wants to see again, like they’re dancing monkeys; and her basic bad looks–she makes every single dancer interview about her! It’s disgusting! She says what it means to her, what she thought of it, and who she knows. Please, please, please DWTS producers: if the show is still on next year, hire another co-host already!!!

[Note: The “plus-size” debate is a whole ‘nother topic, so I’m covering that nonsense in its very own column, hopefully next week. Let’s put it this way—I have plenty to say about it! And not everyone will be pleased.]

And thanks for all the questions!!! Keep ‘em coming, and I’ll get to them whenever I can.

Before I move on to reviewing events for the rest of April this week, I have to first give you guys a quick tutorial on how to do April Fool’s jokes, which many of you need. (And no—I’m not trying to prank you guys into thinking that today is April 1. I, obviously, couldn’t tell you all this on Friday, because I didn’t want the peeps I was planning to pull the pranks on would not see them coming. Duh.) April Fool’s Day is actually my favorite day of the year, and I’m always amazed that so many people either don’t pull pranks, or do them sooo wrong.

I was sort-of sad that Friday got away from me, and I had to choose between designing jokes/pulling them off, and catching-up on time-sensitive sporting events. So I did only a handful of jokes this year, some very satisfying, some not so much. (It was a brutal choice for me, loving both sports and April Fool’s Day so much. So I compromised with just those few jokes, and watching the sports for the entire day and night. But otherwise, I might have read the sporting results before I witnessed the competitions for myself, so I made the correct choice, even if it meant going without sleep for a day or two. But that’s another story.)

I’m horrified when people do April Fool’s jokes in a stupid, or painful, way. It’s not good for anyone, neither joker nor recipient, to do them in the wrong manner.

My friend, Jeanine Anderson, is even better at them than I. (I don’t know if she still does them, though; we can never “get” each other anymore, so we stopped trying. But she was the best at them, back in the day.) Two that she pulled on me, that have lived in infamy, were really elaborate, and made me sort-of sick. But I was so relieved when she said those two magic words at the end.

So, here’s how to pull off a successful April Fool’s prank:

The first rule is that you can’t scare people too much, like with something about death or awful health. Those topics are absolutely acceptable.

But you do have to make it something bad, (but not so bad, as with the verboten topics I just mentioned,) so the recipient will be relieved when you take it away. You can’t tell them something great, like that they got a job or somebody likes them, etc., and then take the good thing away. That would just be a bummer all the way around. (And sadly, that’s how most people do it. So wrong.)

Here’s a perfect example of how not to do it: A few years back, one of my actress friends announced on Facebook that she had gotten a role on Broadway. I recognized it right away for the awful April Fool’s joke that it was, but the rest of her pals were crushed when she told them she was only kidding. You could actually feel the air drain out of everyone in her cyberspace orb.

And here’s an example of how it should be played: A few years ago, as I was leaving the house in the morning, I told Mr. X that a new potential intern was coming over earlier than expected, and he had to entertain her until I got back. That was a situation he more than didn’t want to happen, so when I gleefully declared, “April Fool’s!,” he was really relieved and could join me in my mirth. See? That’s a win-win.

The more based in truth the joke is, like in the above case, (where I made it about a real worker who he knew would be coming over sometime soon, when I would be home, but he wouldn’t,) the more believable it will be.

And, most importantly, it has to be quick. You can’t prolong the pain, or it will lose its goal of making everyone laugh. It will just make you look like a douchebag.

So, there you have it–the secrets from the supreme jokester. Just don’t try to use them on me next year!

If you skip over some of my other columns, (the ones that don’t involve celebs, sports, or gossip,) please do yourself a favor and read this one!  It’s about a fascinating store in New York, Imperial Fine Books.  I never even knew a place like this existed! Books are so very precious.  I’m always worried that younger people won’t realize it.

And this is something collectors, interior/set designers, sophisticated people everywhere, or ones who are just thirsty for knowledge, should really know about, especially with so many holidays coming up this Spring.

Here’s my personal story with this antiquarian bookshop:

On what was a particularly hard day for me recently, the doorbell rang, very unexpectedly, and Mr. X answered it, bringing up a giant box. He hates when big things come into the house, so we were both prepared to be upset with what we thought were unsolicited contents.

When we finally got through layers and layers of tissue picture, we discovered three not-big-but-solid objects, wrapped in thick brown paper.  We could not imagine what that wrapping was hiding.

When we opened them, we were overwhelmed!!!  Someone had sent me a gift of a trio of classic, vintage, leather-bound volumes, all from Imperial Fine Books in Manhattan. I actually broke down and cried just looking at all the gloriousness! And I knew right away that I had to share my discovery of this place.

Not only are the books gorgeous, but these selections are all so perfect for not only me, but Mr. X, as well.  And one even ties into my precious little mother.  I’ll tell you that story in a minute, but first I want to point-out that even the packaging shows how much care this establishment takes with their wares.

This is what that kind gift-giver sent me, with knowing me for only a fleeting moment in life:

Photo by Mr. X.

Wuthering Heights—by Emily Bronte. Published in 1945. Illustrated, and bound in three quarters red morocco.

Alice In Wonderland–By Lewis Carroll. (Duh.) Published in 1899!!! Illustrated. Bound in the full red morocco.

Canterbury Tales– By Chaucer, of course. Published in 1934. Illustrated. Bound in full green morocco.

Bibliophiles will understand how significant the binding of the books is. I just appreciate the beauty of them. In such a digital world, what an absolute treasure these volumes are.

And I love that they have personal inscriptions from the original purchasers to the recipients. That meant so much to someone at the time. I cannot even explain what this selection means to me.

Wuthering Heights is one of my favorite stories of all time, (I love Catherine’s quote, “Ellen, I am Heathcliff!,”) and Alice in Wonderland is a classic children’s book that I’ve never even fully read, so this will be my chance. Mr. X is excited about them all, as well. And here’s the amusing story of how one of these novels ties into my mother:

Years ago, when May Rose Salkin was considered the unofficial Poet Laureate of Aspen, the big news station from Denver came to do a story on her one summer because there was an insane controversy over her cute poems that always appeared in the daily newspapers. The piece they did on her was a delightful one. The whole town got a kick out of the story, and my mother was adorable and charming on it. But what came immediately after the segment was even more special to me.

As a segue, the news anchor said something to the effect of, “Now on to a story of another literary endeavor. A rare edition of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales was discovered…” I don’t really remember anything after that because I was absolutely floored that they were comparing my mother’s pleasant little ditties to a rare edition of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales! That was just mind-blowing!

The inscription in this edition of Wuthering Heights. Look at the gorgeous handwriting! Photo by Mr. X.

So to now own a rare edition of that book myself means so much to me. Every time I look at it, I think of my funny little mother.

So back to present-day. After I calmed down after crying over these new gifts, I researched Imperial Fine Books, and knew immediately that I had to let you all know about it. I only wish that I had known about this store a few months ago, before my siblings just trashed the hundreds of old and rare books that were in my deceased parents home in New York! I want to prevent other families from doing that wasteful thing. If I had known of this bookshop, I would have brought all my family’s books to them.

The person who sent me these gifts chose all novels for me, which is perfect, but, although Imperial Fine Books carries mostly leather-bound sets with fine bindings, they also specialize in children’s literature, illustrations, color-plates, ones on travel and Americana, and all fine and rare books in every field imaginable.  They can even assist with the rare, hard-to-find first editions!

My parents would have gone nuts in there!!!  Speaking of that, any of these volumes would be perfect gifts for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.  Or anybody on any day! I can’t even tell you how much this gift means to me, and I’m someone who always loves receiving just shallow gifts, such as make-up, clothing, and other basically trivial items. This was one of the most creative choices for me ever!

I can’t wait to visit Imperial Fine Books on my next trip to New York, which I hope will be soon.  My desire to see this shop may just be getting me to the East Coast quicker than planned!

Imperial Fine Books
790 Madison Avenue New York 212-861-6620
www.imperialfinebooks.com

When I began to write down my personal highlights of 2014, something that happened in my past came to me. My two best buds when I was young were Prescott and Ron, two little boys in Rhode Island. I was visiting them one December when Ron had to write an essay about the people in his family. Since I was staying with them, and we had such a great time together, of course he put me in the story. But his mother pointed-out that it was just because I was there in person, and that he would not have thought of me otherwise. Duh.

So, I didn’t want to do that with this column of happiness. When I sat down to write it, I immediately thought of the recent production I loved at the Pasadena Playhouse, Sleeping Beauty and Her Winter Knight, and of having the privilege of seeing Angela Lansbury perform in Blithe Spirit at the Ahmanson Theatre this month. But, then I realized that, like my pal Ron above, I might have been highlighting them because of their proximity to my writing this.

(And then, off the top of my head, I came up with seeing Adam Lambert again, and meeting Giancarlo Stanton!!! OMG, to those both!)

So, I went over the entire rest of this past year, day by day. Ah, the power of good record-keeping (which is rarely the case with me, except for appointment books, and the occasional journal entry.) And, I found at least one real highlight a month to share with you. And you know what? The four I just mentioned did, indeed, make the cut! They weren’t just because of the recentness.

So, in my ever-present quest to be grateful, and count my blessings, here are my personal highlights of 2014, in chronological order, (although those aforementioned quartet really are the top ones!) (And, if you’d like more deets on any of them, just put the main words in the “Search” box, because I’m pretty sure I wrote about most of them!) Here we go:

January–I started off the year with my pal Joanne Geffen’s party, which always gives us a Happy New Year right off the bat.

Then seeing Cirque du Soleil at the romantic Santa Monica Pier, (with Mr. X, no less!) continued that great 2014 feeling.

[Note: I know many of you were really expecting me to say my January 14th here, but this time it was not special at all, and was actually kind-of depressing.]

February—My favorite time in a restaurant all year was my belated birthday dinner with one of my all-time favorite friends, and personal idol, Angie Dickinson!!! I love that woman, who’s still as gorgeous as she’s always been!

The Beatles anniversary-of-coming-to-America party at the home of Debbie Supnik, who has known them, especially Paul McCartney, since they first came here!!! Her personal stories of the Fab Four were amazing!

And let’s not forget my favorite sporting event of all time, the Olympics! Yay!

March—I went to Vegas with my great East Coast friend, Lauren Bennett. In the past twenty years, I’ve rarely gone anywhere except New York, so it was a treat to go to Vegas with one of my most fun friends, if even for one night. What a bonus of living in LA to be able to do that so easily!

April and May—The last hurrah at my house in Brooklyn, before I had to sell it. [This is the only one that’s bittersweet, (rather than just sweet,) but it’s the end of more than one era, so it still counts as a highlight.]

June—The Etihad Airways party at the most awesome estate in Beverly Hills! It’s still the best event I’ve ever attended!

The San Antonio Spurs won the NBA championship! I love those mostly-old guys, and rooted for them all the way.

My perennial favorite party of any year, Fred Deni and Jim Crystal’s annual pre-Fourth of July fete. They feed us like kings, and then we can stand anywhere on or near their house, and watch the Santa Monica College fireworks. What can possibly be more fun, especially with Mr. X in attendance?!

July—Two of my favorite anniversaries—first with Mr. X on the 7th, and then with LA on the 27th.

August—I had so much fun at all the Emmys suites, especially because I got to introduce my newest, (and most fun,) contributing writer, Alice Farinas, to them!

September—It’s always a highlight of any year to get to spend a bit of time with my favorite singer of all time, Adam Lambert, but when I bumped into him at the Pasadena Playhouse production of Kiss Me Kate, both at intermission and again at the after-party, it was more special than ever because it had been a few years. I love that boy!!! And have since the second I heard the first note come out of his mouth in The Ten Commandments, The Musical at the Kodak Theatre a decade ago!

A major highlight of 2014 was the massive re-design of this very e-zine, ItsNotAboutMe.TV! My webmaster, Lou, did it all at the end of the month. It had been a long time coming, and all the positive reactions to it made it even more special. And guess what? We’re still not done! There are many more tweaks to come, so stay tuned for those. (And feel free to give me suggestions, in the Comments section below.)

October—Even though I’ve seen a lot of movies so far this year, (to vote for the SAG Awards in late January 2015,) St. Vincent was the movie of the year, to me. I loved seeing it in the beautiful Academy Theatre, and hearing Bill Murray speak after was icing on the cake!

Karen Salkin and Giancarlo Stanton. Photo by Alice Farinas.

And meeting Giancarlo Stanton the very next night (at the big Restoration Hardware party in West Hollywood) was this year’s OMG moment for me! (He later became the most monetarily-compensated athlete ever, in the history of the world! So, maybe some of you other big league players should look me up! I’m just sayin’.)

November—This was my juiciest month of the year, in general, because I had a fun event every night! And I finally got some opportunities to catch-up with a few old pals, which always helps my soul.

December—Which brings us back to the two events I mentioned at the beginning of this column! After reviewing all of 2014, these were definitely my favorite theatre pieces of the year: Sleeping Beauty and Her Winter Knight at the Pasadena Playhouse, and Angela Lansbury starring in Blithe Spirit at the Ahmanson Theatre. What a perfect ending to this, and any, year!

Before I went over my year to write this, I would have thought my year was not very good, mainly because of giving up my childhood home, and all the problems around that situation. But, this exercise really cheered me up, and even reminded me of why I always try to be grateful. So, I recommend doing it, to all of you. Just go through your appointment books, or journals, or diaries, (or even emails if you have to!,) and realize how it really is a wonderful life, especially at this time of year.

I figure I better get this one in, while it still is Summer! (Well, technically, anyway.)

As I was watching a recent morning Mets game, announcers Gary Cohen and Ron Darling pointed-out a group of youngsters in the stands; they were there with their summer camp.  The guys went into a several-minute discussion of camps, which started to make me feel a bit bad, since I’m probably the only kid in history who opted not to go. But I felt immediately better when Ron said that he never went to one, either.  (I don’t know if his situation was the same as mine, where my parents offered me to go, and I declined, or if his parents just chose not to send him, for one reason or other.)

Their discourse made me hark back to my own youthful summers, and I just had to write about my relationship (or non-relationship) with camp, in case you have an equally contrarian offspring. (Or are one!)

Isn’t this what all summer camps look like?

So, here’s my own history with that concept, which just about every kid in Brooklyn, besides me, did.

I realize, now that I’m thinking about it, that most kids who went to camp did so because their fathers worked, and the mothers didn’t know what to do with their children who were out of school.  Most of the kids I went to school with went to sleep-away camp, usually for the whole summer, but some went for just a couple of weeks or a month.  The ones whose parents couldn’t afford that crazy expense went to day camp. That concept was that a bus picked you up in the morning, and took you to some other location, (I still never found-out where it was,) and you got to swim, play sports, and just get all-around tuckered-out by doing activities that your own parents couldn’t really provide.

But, since both my parents were teachers, and very cultured, and great to us kids, we were able to do family stuff together all the time.  And, although I grew up in an upper-middle-class ‘hood, it seemed that most of my friends on the block stayed home, too, so we always had tons of kids to play with.

And we had a blast.  We not only played punchball in the street, but we constantly produced plays, mainly on my back porch.  We played dress-up with the fabulous fashions in my basement trunk, and board games on my stoop.  Speaking of my stoop, we did everything on there!  For some reason, it was the center of my block’s universe.

In-between the friend action, my parents took us everywhere fun.  My mother made monthly calendars to put on the refrigerator, with an activity planned daily.  We went to the beach, movies, eateries, museums, faraway friends’ houses for barbeques, etc.  And we spent two different weeks in the heaven that is Bucks County, Pennsylvania, and earlier in my life, the same amount of time at a bed and breakfast in New Canaan, Connecticut.

So, can you see why I chose not to go to camp, even though my school friends begged me to come with them?

But, now come the real reasons I didn’t want to go: I did not want to be made to get up early, even for swimming and flirting with boys.  I definitely wasn’t going to make my own bed!  I didn’t even know how, since I grew up with a wonderful woman, Edna, taking care of us (only because both my parents worked, and we needed someone to take care of us.)  She never let me do any household chores, so I still don’t know how to do most of it.

But even more importantly–I was absolutely not going to eat the food they offered!  I was used to having brownies and Ring Dings for breakfast and snacks, and whatever the heck I wanted for lunch and dinner.  My dietary dislikes were even more then than they are now, and there were hardly any breakfast foods I ate, at all!  When my family traveled, my parents had to embarrassedly beg restaurants to fire-up the grill at breakfast, and make me hot dogs!  At 7AM!  So, do you think I was going to have camp counselors tell me what I would have to eat?!  No way!

But here’s a surprise–when I was two and three, my father was the Boys Head Counselor at his friend’s camp in Connecticut.  So, we all went.  My father was working all day, and my sister is much older than I, so she was in a troop, (or whatever you call them at camp.) So my mother and I just roamed the grounds all day, and had a great time.  Everyone loved me. (I was an adorable child, if I do say so myself.  Until I was five or six; and then it was all downhill from there.)  Different personnel on-site had songs just for me, (Duke always sang, Ain’t She Sweet when I walked by,) or pet names for me.  (Patrick called me “Princess.”)  And, of course, I had crushes on some of the ten-year-old boys.  (Some things never change.)  (Oh, not ten-year-olds—just crushing on males in general, my whole life!) So, you’d think that I would have jumped at the chance to go to sleep-away camp on my own, as soon as I was old enough.

But, when I was just that tiny Special Guest Star, I got to eat the only foods I liked back then.  I lived on hot dogs, cucumbers, and watermelon.  And, each afternoon, my mother and I went to some special food shack, and feasted on oyster crackers and chocolate milk in little glass bottles.  What a perfect existence that was!  And I remember so much of it still.  (Yet one more thing to be grateful for, my Facebook followers!)

Ron Darling asked Gary Cohen how you decide where to go, and how old you go until. That reminded me of the two times I actually came close to going to sleep-away camp.

The first was when I was thirteen and about to go into ninth grade. (Yes, I did skip a grade. I guess I am smarter than some of you may think!) My new teen-age friends begged me to come with them to camp, and I finally relented. Perhaps I liked them better than my elementary school pals. Or had more fun with them. Or was more attached to them. Whatever the reason, I told my parents that I would now finally go to camp. But, guess what? After years of begging me to go, now they wouldn’t let me! It was to be the first year my family would be spending at URI in Rhode Island, and they didn’t want me to be that far away from them.

So, I sadly went away with the fam instead of my peers, and again–guess what? I had the time of my life! Rhode Island became the third most important state to me, (after California and New York,) and in this case, I love the whole state, not just one city! I’m so grateful I didn’t get to go to camp then, because, outside of meeting a young Hugh Jackson there and becoming life-long pals, nothing could beat my Rhode Island experiences forever after.

The one other time I almost went was when I was seventeen, and had just finished high school. I guess I felt that I should get a job for the summer. So my mother got counselor interviews for my best friend, Stephanie, and me. Sadly, I got accepted, but Steph did not. So, even though at that point I was really into going, ever the loyal friend, I declined the offer.

So, there you have it! My sojourn with not going to summer camp. I never gave it another thought until I heard the Mets announcers discussing it. Do you think I made the right or wrong decision?  I’d love to hear about your own experiences with it, yay or nay, in the Comments section below.

On a recent morning, I noticed that, when I went to my emails and saw ones from my friends Lila and Mary, I felt instantly happy. I was looking forward to seeing what they had to say, even if it was just “hi.”

Seeing email like this group makes my day!

And then it hit me that, conversely, whenever I turn on my computer (or iPad or iPhone or laptop,) and see emails from a few people in particular, I get instantly sick, and start shaking. Even before I read them!

There’s no profound message here. The revelation of my different reactions made me appreciate, even more than I already do, the missives from people like Gina, Alex, Simone, Sheila, Betsy, Stephanie, Dave, Paul, and Mimi, and a few special others. (I don’t want to name them all because I’m afraid that, just like someone giving an award acceptance speech, I’ll wind-up leaving just one important person out.)  And the occasional one from Ronnie Hazel, Jr. makes me downright giddy!!!

So, I’m just sharing this thought with my readers, in the hopes that they realize how much certain emails mean to them, too. Putting a smile on someone’s face, even briefly, is a powerful thing to do.

Today is three years since my mother first collapsed on her living room floor. But because someone eventually found her, she lived for exactly five more months, months for which I’m extremely grateful.

Now that I’ve had this much time since that horrible day, I realized that I want to turn it into a positive by possible saving someone else’s life with this advice.

Please check-in with a buddy, like these Bye Bye Birdie girls do.

I want to urge everyone who lives alone, young and old, to make a plan with a buddy to check in every day. It may be a matter of life and death!

I’m not trying to scare anyone, but this is a really important concept. I’ve heard of people whose relatives or friends were discovered alone in their homes, already deceased. Who knows if they would still be on this level of life if one of their pals had known to call the paramedics because they hadn’t heard from them.

So, my advice is short and sweet—just make a plan with another pal who lives alone to check in once a day. Doing it at the same time might be best. Perhaps right before going to bed, or in the morning. It may sound a bit nutty and paranoid, but if you wind-up needing the attention, you’ll be glad you did it. (And it’s just a matter of a quick phone call or text or email. No need to make it dramatic; just a quick “hi.”)

So, solo-livers, find that buddy right now, without delay. ‘Nuff said.

I’m a super-busy semi-hipster who lives in a part of Los Angeles that has no public transportation. And when my hands and back cooperate, (not to mention my pals and associates and…Mr. X!,) I’m out at events both day and night.

So, I query again—how long do you think I’ve gone without driving in LA? Ponder for a moment, and then check the next paragraph.

Ready for the answer? Here goes—I haven’t driven in LA for over a year!!! Do you believe that???

Here’s why, and how I’ve done it, while still having a full life:

Last July 9th, (2013,) I filled-up my car with gas (because Mr. X says that you can’t leave a car for awhile without it, and I was to be gone for five weeks,) and parked it in my garage.

I left for the summer in New York the next day, planning to return in the middle of August, to a fully gassed-up vehicle, I might add.

And that was the end of my driving days for awhile. I just didn’t realize it would be this long!

After just three days in New York, my hands went numb, (and were painful at the same time—go figure,) and I had to fly back to LA immediately to seek medical attention. And, of course, I couldn’t drive here at that time. I couldn’t use my hands for over three months, and wound-up having three hand surgeries, one on my right, the other two on my left, (which is still not doing great, by the way.) I was out of commission until the beginning of this year because of all that.

Up until this April, I was still receiving hand therapy, and on drugs, (prescribed ones, of course,) and still physically unable to drive. Once I was cleared to drive, there was another problem. Two actually. My precious Beemer was dead, and—here’s the real prob—it’s a stick! That means it hits exactly where the scar on my right hand is, so I can’t drive a manual at all anymore. And I love my car. It’s my baby! I’ve fought selling it for years. [Note: If you know your cars, and want to buy an E30 body, with super-low mileage, send me a note in the comments below. We won’t publish it, and I’ll get back to you right away with the deets. Include your email and phone #.]

So, anyway, that’s why I haven’t driven in this town since July 9, 2013!

The good(-ish) news is that I did finally drive in New York this Spring. My car there, The Work Horse, is an automatic, so it worked-out well. I finally drove it again on April 18th of this year, and did so about seven times in the month and a half I was there. The steering wheel really hurt my left hand, but I was thrilled to be driving again. And it was like what they say about riding a bike (or is that a horse?)—I really did it again with no problem. It didn’t even feel like it was nine months since I had driven!

So, back to my Los Angeles driving situation. I plan to drive again soon, to try out new cars. And then when I finally get one, I’ll be free again! I haven’t gone out by myself in that long! I love being with Mr. X and my pals, anyway, but I hate being a burden on them, so driving myself will be a relief, to them as well as to myself.

So, LA, I’m giving you fair warning—I’ll be back on the streets real soon, only with a new set of wheels.

Any suggestions on what car to get now? But it can’t be longer than one hundred seventy-five inches, to fit in my garage. I’ll appreciate any ideas you guys have.

And, Guinness Book of World records—if surviving and thriving in Los Angeles without wheels for over a year is a category, I’m applying for that record right now! It’s been exactly one year and two weeks now…and counting!