Mission almost accomplished

It is a rare time when I complete a self initiated project. But I am very close to doing that this upcoming month. I started writing what has now become an ebook as a blog as a way of releasing the frustration that is so common a precipitating force and I am so glad I just did! It  Not only has it accomplished said intent but it has become so much more. I always knew I was a "late bloomer", that the late great painter, Grandma Moses, was my inspiration.  She began painting at the young age of 72. Became world renown and died at 101. So whilst I have participated in many artist forms it is fun to start a new one so near the 3rd act.  I have to say the fact that work has the actual opportunity to be read by someone so quickly is a motivating and at the same time scary factor. Internet accessibility to possibly untold numbers or no one at all, makes putting ones work out a different and more democratic process than in the past. 

So soon the project will become an ebook and the ebook will be in the Ethernet and I can move on to the-next project. Learn some new skills, push myself, expose the naked underbelly. In the words of the famous (and  infamous) Martha Stewart: "that's a good thing."

Dwell on it

For some reason I appear to have a subscription to Dwell Magazine. Probably received it when I gave money to a NPR radio station, or other worthy cause. I find it to be the most depressing magazine ever. Once upon a time I really liked it. The aesthetic was appealing to me. There was an emphasize on good affordable design. Small green changes to our living spaces. But that was then, and I guess those type of readers don't pay the San Francisco mortgages of the editors. So now we have huge living spaces, all without clutter, I might add. They apparently have large hidden closets to hide their real stuff. Never do they show what a person might do with a real, pre-existing space. Say, for example, a condo in a 40 year old building. Or a person who might, shock, have to rent. And then there is the opposite world. The Small Living movement. 400 square feet or less. Ok I am at a point in my life, where I am trying to get rid of stuff. I sell on ebay, I give stuff away. But really? 160 square feet? I can't even travel with less than that! I propose we find a happy medium between 6000 square feet and a bathroom. Most of us are happy with a few rooms with doors that we can slam when the world gets to be too much. And trust me when I say that leaving your phone in that upstairs back room when you are going out your door, will get harder and harder to negotiate as the body turns against you. So my rant today will end on a plea for sanity. Again I realize it will go unheard.

Writing an E-Book.

An idea pops into my head. Ok, the truth serum is kicking in. An idea is germinated by something I hear on the radio. I decide to move forward with the idea, thinking it should be fairly simple, as I am going to crib most of it from my own seldom read blog. There was my first lesson. While cutting and pasting is somewhat simple for us, the e-book is a very specific creature. First I would have to choose between formats (cassette or 8 track? VHS or Beta? Soy or Coconut?). The Apple world has iAuthor. A fairly simple program, much like its other "art" programs; iMovie, iGarageband... Choose a design, drag and drop. Except when you want to do something else. Then arrggghh. The Kindle uses a more complex professional program, Adobe InDesign was the one I chose, that will let you do those "arrggghh" things, but it is far more time consuming. I started to format the book in both programs. The reason one can not just pick one is because if I publish in the easier one, Apple, I am forbidden from publishing on the Kindle brand, which cuts off the largest ebook store outlet, Amazon. But to save my sanity, I did pick one, hoping that some big author would sue and that problem would go away. So far, that hasn't happened.
But the real issue is not the formatting issues. The real issue is me. As we know from past musings, I am an underachiever. Laser-like focus on one project is not my best skill. I enjoy verring away. Taking a side road. Usually to a dead end, but as they say, its the journey. But now, as the final act begins, I desperately want to leave something. It seems that just having a body of under seen work is not enough. I don't have a child (the typical way of leaving something) and although I have been a part of many wonderful artistic endeavors, I don't have that one thing to point to. Not that one can physically hold an e-book, but you know what I am getting at.
However, (can't get the legalize writing out of me, no matter how many years have passed), I am slowly chipping away at it. I have 30+ pages lined up. Pictures too. Soon I will let someone else look at it and then I will have to be open to criticism and accept that some of the things I think are funny, just aren't. But that too will be ok. Because at the end of some day, I will have something to point to, even if it is on a iPad screen.

Assisted Living: When you just need to GET AWAY

Over the past 8 years, I have managed to go away several times. Early on, I could leave the Old guy alone, with some pre-made food, arrange for someone to take him out one night. If I was to be gone for a longer period, I would have him stay with the "sister wives". One time, I had people scheduled to stay a night or two at the apartment. But recently, I have been reluctant to ask for this help. Oh I know people would say, "Of course, I'd like to help" when discussed in the hypothetical, but, when it comes down to specifics, the discussion gets a little fuzzy. And since it is the American Way to be self reliant, I decided to do it the old fashion way: pay someone. There is a great advantage to this, and the obvious disadvantage (cost). But I am able to do it and it provides me with peace of mind (or is that a piece of a mind? both probably). Old Guy gets a companion for the time who will be nice to him (she is paid) and a different cook. But mainly it makes him very happy when I return. As for me, I get a good chunk of time to return to my swinging single life. (insert tire screeches here) Yeah, that's not really true. I have, sadly, aged 8 years, and so, funny in an ironic way, not haha way, I have slowed down too. But I did get to enjoy just taking care of myself.

All the experts will tell you that taking care of the caretaker is very important. The truth is, it is very hard to accomplish. But, when you do get the chance your heart and head will thank you for it.

Then, its back to the grind.

Upon return:
"How was the wedding?". "What wedding?" "Didn't you go to San Francisco for a wedding?" " No, I went to Sacramento. No Wedding." "Oh, my mistake"
Next day:
"How was the wedding?"

Still Alive and writing...

So, all three of my readers already know that I am writing an E-Book entitled...well, lets make that a surprise for when I actually finish the damn thing! Suffice it to say, that these little writing exercises I like to call Blog Posts, are in it. I am having fun learning two new formatting programs cuz the world likes to make it really difficult (did we really have to let the cassette win, when 8 track was so superior in sound quality?), again, apropos of nothing. AH Ha! maybe that will be the title. dont steal it Chuck Lorre.
Speaking of whom, I am going to reprint his recent Vanity Card, just because it sounds right. I do believe comedy writers are our new philosophers. We don't have time for thick tomes on life and death; much easier to write that into an episode of a sit com.
Yes, I am still open to that world's oldest PA job in the writers room, Mr. Lorre.
Read and ponder....




CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #416

I've been thinking about becoming a polytheist. No, this has nothing to do with missing Battlestar Galactica. And yes, I realize my blasphemous notion flies in the face of a few thousand years of "Ye shall have no other gods before me." (To be honest, even when I was a kid that commandment troubled me. It sounded like a jealous girlfriend saying, "If I catch you looking at other girls, you're in big trouble, Mister!" And don't get me started on how "no other gods before me" kinda implies that there might actually be some other gods loitering about.) But my main reason for considering becoming a Pagan (Pagish? Jewgan?), is that it neatly answers the age-old question, "Why does god allow so much suffering in the world?" When tragedy strikes, the monotheistic approach can only offer the tired old, "It is not for us to question god's will." Really? Why not us? Who else is in the questioning business? But look what happens when we ask the same question from a pantheistic perspective. Why do the gods allow so much suffering in the world? Because outside of their particular area of expertise: farming, war, fertility, what-have-you, they are not even remotely in control. The buck stops nowhere. (In this scenario both the Old Testament and New Testament deities are off the hook as far as your general suffering is concerned.) But here's the really good news: with a polytheistic approach to prayer we can micro-target our beseeching. Trouble with love? Take it to Aphrodite. Not catching enough fish? Poseidon. Are you regularly waking up from alcohol-induced blackouts in the sleeping compartment of long-haul trucks that carry circus equipment and little people? That sounds like a job for Dionysus. Need your sitcom pilot to get picked up for the Fall season? Les Moonves. In other words, whatever the crisis might be, there's a god ready to take your call. What are you waiting for? Call now and receive a free goat-sacrificing kit! (Goat sold separately.)

Hi My Name is Debra and I am a TV addict.

Just read a post where some brave woman admits to being a TV addict. So I thought I would come clean too.
TV has saved my life these past few years. Without the ongoing antics of, well, there are too many to name, since I am running out to the Paley Fest in Bev Hills, to hear the cast of NASHVILLE, talk.. but without those characters, I do not think I would have made it thus far. I admit to enjoying the acting, the stories, the productions, heck even a commercial or two. I know, heresy for a left leaning lesbian feminist. But they say the first step is admitting, and I am do that now. Plus, since my group meeting is during that early 6-7 hour I am not in fear of missing any of my shows. (Thank you TV G-ds for HULU, On-Demand and DVR). Ok now you can judge me.

And the Award never goes to: a comedy! Or my unglamorous life....

I really shouldn't complain. I had a fairly alternative glamour night yesterday (beware: name dropping to follow). I went to a huge art opening of the beloved and famous dyke photographer, Catherine Opie, where John Waters roamed looking at photos of Diana Nyad, the designing Mulleavy sisters, and my friends Julie Tolentino and Pig Pen. Among other well know faces were directors Kimberly Pierce and Jamie Babbitt; friend and producer Steak House, Valerie Stadler;my production designer boy wonder, Michael Fitzgerald, and my sidekick in troublemaking, the writer Michelle Meyers (Immaculate Complexion). It was crowded with interesting looking people who most likely did interesting type things. Then off to a small party in honor of an old friend, Holly Hughes, in town to perform and teach at USC. The performance artist/actor John Fleck as well as the lesbian folksinger (who opened for the Smiths in the early 80's)Phranc, were among the guests. So no, it wasn't the Independent Spirit award, and never would be the Oscars (that would mean a time machine, plastic surgery and talent), but it was something! And so it should come as no surprise that I blew my wad last night and today I am sitting at my computer, in a torn sweatshirt (formal gown at the cleaners), filling in my home ballot, before moving into the living room to watch the Oscar telecast with the Ol' guy. May the team with the most money for publicity war, win!

LESBIAN FAMILY VALUES

I am sick of people thinking that family values mean a primary typical family unit. I am here to tell you that it IS different for Lesbians (Dykes, Wimmen loving Wimmen, female homosexuals...). Many of us have chosen not to raise children. There are as many reasons as there are stars in the sky...but suffice it to say, we made a choice. The option of having a daughter (son...maybe) take care of you in your old age, say as I am doing for my father, is, well, none. What do we do when the proverbial cancer, MS, joint replacement, homelessness, hits the fan? We reach out to our, what is referred to as, the extended family of ex-lovers. This is very different from the hetero norm, or in my experience the gay men’s world.
I have so many examples of this, including my own, and one that is happening right now.
In my case, I needed a new shoulder (years of lesbian sex had taken its toll and I am proud to announce that...). I needed someone to take care of not only me, but my father, for whom I am responsible . Who did I call? Yes after Ghost Busters, my ex-gal pay from the 1980’s, (let’s call her Lynn). Now, Lynn had just been a year out of Chemo herself, and I had sent her some helping funds when she was recovering, since I could not get away (see above responsibility), but she volunteered to come out and take care of Dad and I. Did you see the date? 1980’s. That’s a long time to remain friends, ne, family.
Currently, an acquaintance,really,is going through a gnarly operation. She is staying with her ex and her ex’s current partner. Legions of friends visit her, and I imagine some are even her ex-lovers. Do you ever see that in the hetero world? Nope.

So in conclusion, I‘d like to say:suck on it right wing, cuz Lesbian have True Family Values.

I Suck.

I was reading Chuck Lorre (Yes, I am clearly obsessed by this man-which in itself is weird for a past her if ever prime and a les-bo-heim to boot)and he wrote an article entitled:
HOW TO CREATE A HIT SITCOM
A simple, step-by-step guide to prime time success.
It is, as you might imagine if you watch his shows, is funny.
But mostly what it made me realize is that I am a spectacular failure. I have one person following my blog, and I am pretty sure it is someone I am paying. I do not make any money as a writer, mostly cuz I refuse to call myself such or even show anyone my writing. I think having a highly commented on rant on fb is writing. Clearly, I am a v-e-r-y slow learner. I like to write. I like to write about what I think about things. There is not a lot of money in that- no wait, I think there is; I just dont know how to, as we like to say now, monetize it. I am not very motivated to succeed. What's up with that?
As it says in my copy of The Underachiever's Manifesto (yes it does exist and I wish I had written it, but I was too underachieving to do so)
GOOD ENOUGH IS GOOD ENOUGH. Actually it doesn't say that but that is the essence of the 10 points.
I would reprint the ten, but I will leave it to the next post. See if anyone reads this, of if it is, as I suspect, a very cheap form of self-therapy.
Enjoy this day after the second Inauguration of the first Black President (see it was not a mistake!)

Assisted Living (Help me Chuck Lorre!)

I saw the note by blogger telling me to list people in my post, so I thought who better than the Jeffe of TV comedy, Chuck Lorre. I do not know him, or imagine that I ever will. We are in parallel worlds. He is famous, I am not. He makes people laugh: I make people cry. He lives in LA; I live in LA (and by that I mean, the LA he lives in is on 90210, the LA I live in is on COPS). But we do share a heritage, and a love of numbers (see his Vanity Card archives---see my unread blog posts 1-56). Plus if I tag him in my post then maybe someone will read them.
Of late I have not felt much humor in my situation. For those of you who can not be bothered reading "TDT/Assisted Living" from the beginning, I will surmise: Long time, past her prime,dyke inherits aging (82 at time, now 90)father (hereto referred to as: The Old Guy) and hilarity ensues.
Like I said, I have not been feeling the hilarity. Its a lot of work caring for others. And I don't mean in the "write a check to the charity" kind of care. Perhaps it is the reason I never had children or men have wives; it is HARD. Still, its best to find some humor in some corner or instead of hilarity, insanity will ensue. So now I laugh at myself. How crazy am I who thinks I can get him to remember something just seen 10 minutes ago? That is bend over chuckle worthy! I am just nuttier than those kids on Happy Endings or New Girl. And they are kooky, weird funny! Yup, 61, tattooed and still wearing high tops. Crazy!
Happy 2nd of 3 New Year's (not the one that you eat apples and honey and then fast, not the one that you eat whole fish and blow things up, but the one that you get falling down drunk and watch some 7000 pound "ball" fall off a building).

Assisted Living-So you wanna help...

UPDATE Transportation problems solved!
The several agencies that help individuals with transportation each have their own set of rules. Each agency contracts with separate private companies to accomplish this mandate. And so if one agency only takes people in a designated zone, they can't pick up in another zone. In order to facilitate the Ol' Guy to the 2x a week Adult Day Care (the wonderful One Generation-send donations or volunteer there), we have to use two agencies. After a surprisingly short wait time, I have a standing order for both directions. What I love about this arrangement is that I don't have to drive and I don't have to ask for favors from others! I was very lucky and had a good friend helping out, but really one can ask so much from non-relatives.
Take away:

If you are a friend of a caregiver and want to help, offer to help decipher the bureaucracy of the various agencies. That is the real work that will last long after you grow weary of driving

Assisted Living Part...oh who knows?

So. (have you noticed all kinds of people are using this small word to begin their explanations- not just ner do wells like me who have been using the word since 1974), I repeat, So, I have been busy living life and waiting for another funny bon-mot to be created by the Ol' guy and myself. Now that I have you suspended in space, I don't really have one. It's just more of the same "shampoo, rinse, repeat" or for those of you who don't follow my skewed brain functions: "say something, repeat, say it again, repeat, no, I did tell you, yes you have heard this before, now why would I lie to you?, repeat, bang your head against the wall, and hope that someone loves you-or at least is getting paid-when you do the same thing in the very soon future...."
I went traveling this past weekend. Alone this time. Although, leaving him at home involves preparation also. I had to get away; there are lives at stake!
Off to celebrate life and aging in Seattle. But isn't it funny, or in this case ironic, that I go to see and connect with many friends from the past, and on the first night I loose my voice! For those of you who know me, well, I am assuming that is everyone, or why are you reading-unless its that person whom I am sending checks to... you know that I love to talk. I love to tell stories, make non-sequitur jokes (see above), pithy comments, snide remarks. Apparently not this weekend. Still, I had a great time using my newly found listening skills.
That's it. Gotta run.
Oh, vote. No let me be more specific, Vote Obama.

Sunny October Day at Foxglove Guest House, Seattle, Wa

Assisted Living-Traveling.

I think it's time to seriously consider my sanity. I say this,dear reader (you should feel special since you are the only one...), cuz if you are my friend you will say something.
I made a decision to spend the New Year holiday with my father's sister's family in, wait for it, Dallas. Now, I must say that my previous visits have all been great. I really enjoy my family and all the people I encountered were always super polite and friendly, so I have nothing but good experiences in the Lone Star state. Still, I am a liberal Californian and admit to a certain amount of prejudice. It doesn't help that I am listening to a report about voter roll purging in the state.
But what does that have to do with the thrust of this blog? Well. Nothing. I like to rant.
What I am writing about: everything that could go wrong when traveling, has. No really. Delayed flight. Rental car smells. My cold hit with a vengeance. The hotel power went out. We moved hotels. It's raining. Oh did I mention that the old guy is seemingly more deaf and loosing his memory for things said 2 minutes before?
Still tonight we Jews will celebrate 5773 years of disorganized existence. Some will go to Shul, some will have large family dinners like the one we will be at tonight. And I am happy to have that connection to a blood line.
So despite the week's trials and tribulations, I shout a L'Shana Tova to all. Since a New Year means a new start and who doesn't love a new beginning?

Photo Collage, Assisted Living.

My friend M. says that Blogs need lots of photos. I think its because she thinks people won't read anymore and need the quick visual. She's probably right. Still, I do love me a juicy, well expressed sentence. Not that I am the purveyor of said writing, of course.
Anyway, back to the photos. Below you will see what things I attempt to do to keep The Old Guy healthy, clean and safe. Naturally, all this depends on one thing and one thing only: Him actually reading the notes. One can hope.

TDT, aka Assisted Living Part 9.

My WWII air raid ring-tone goes off. Its the Old Guy. "Say do you have my wallet?". "How would I have your wallet?" (I am 10 miles and 2 galaxies away). "I guess I must have lost it in the City Ride bus." "Ok" says I. "I'll call them", says he.
So I call them, game the system and get to a human being in less than 40 minutes. Yes, the supervisor (hold for the supervisor) says, we have his wallet. I can bring it to you on Monday. Great!
Now this was before we were going up to San Francisco (see below posts), so I thought I would try to fool the Old Guy but putting together a "fake replacement wallet". But no, each day we are gone he asks me where his wallet is. Finally, I can't take it any longer (see below post). As today is Tuesday and obviously the wallet was not delivered yesterday, I approach a City Ride driver after I drop Old Guy off at the Adult Day Care Center where he goes on Tuesday and Thursday (see future post). The driver takes pity on the crazy lady and actually calls the dispatch. They do indeed have the wallet. The driver says, in his humble opinion he would suggest I just drive out to Pacoima to pick it up, that it might be 2 weeks before they actually bring it to me. And that is just what I did.(Random thought: what a horrible place to work and why wouldn't someone want to get out of there, if only to deliver a wallet someplace nice?)
My next challenge: how to talk the Old Guy into a wallet chain.

TDT aka Assisted Living Part 7

Preparing for a trip away is always daunting, but in addition to figuring out how many black tee shirts I should bring (2 per day, if it is a hot clime) I must figure out how many tight-y white-y's to bring for the old guy. Yes, it is a lot like having a kid. Now the kid will get more capable, have a mind of their own, and come to resent you. An aging parent, will get less capable, loose their mind and if you are lucky, thank you every day. And most of you will find this charming; me? Well, lets just say its been a long 8 years...
So we hit the road, an hour late. The ride is long and hot; my left arm begins to hurt,as well as my back, and I am wondering why I didn't just rent a lot of movies with San Francisco in them?
But despite traffic (and you NOCAL folks think LA is bad, au contraire) across the bridge, we had a delightful dinner with my cousins (the liberal white sheep of that side) and fairly easy drive back (did I say that every event possible was happening in SF that night?). The next day, in true fashion, the old guy had no idea why were were here, but in spite of my impluse to do something untoward, I pushed on. We hit the beach (foggy and cold) the mission (warm and uber hip), the Zen Center-no I am not meditating, it was once my mother's home and where my parents met. No, it was A Jewish Women's Residence designed by the famous Julia Morgan. I remember Passover Seders there... And a cray-cray trip to the Ferry Building, with every other tourist. Did have a kick ass snack at the Slanted Door take out window! And a surprise visit to the Railway Museum (all the trolleys), which I dearly love.
Upon return to the Berkeley Marina, we took a plunge and short swim, showered, rested and met Hannah and Felicia at the delicious Pizzaolo in Oakland. Lovely Lena was hostess and so we got rock star treatment. One word: panacotta!
The next day we walked on the Marina, did a quick drive by of the campus, ate Bagels and Lox at a Cambodian owned bagel store and hit the road.
My left arm still hurts, and I slept like a log, but all in all, I am glad I didn't just rent the movies.

Shameless Self-Promotion

Some fun!
youtube video: Gigi Goes to a book Club. You have to find it your self cuz I am not able to get the link to work on this right now!

from the New York Post!

That Gigi Levangie Grazer will celebrate the release of her fifth novel, “The After Wife,” at an intimate party hosted by Christopher Burch in Southampton next Friday, where guests expected include Chris Cuomo and Cristina Greeven Cuomo, Rita Schrager, Fern Mallis, Alina Cho, Serena Altschul and Nacho Figueras.

(I used to work for Fern Mallis! I am sure she will not recognize me...)

TDT-Assisted Living- part 6

TV is our common space. I try to watch a show with him every night I am home. I know it sounds weird, cuz watching a program with another human being is really a partial interaction. But it is the best I can do most nights. Sometimes all I can do is walk through the room and ask him what Vanna is wearing or who is wining the game?
Definition of: Awkward. There was this time, several years ago, I was watching an early feed of The L Word with Dad. At about 1/2 way in, I realized that I was incredibly uncomfortable; that watching a show, that had previously given me pleasure, with my father was not ok. So the next week, when it came on, I said, "Dad please go in your room and watch 60 Minutes". He asked "why" and I said "because I want to watch The L Word". He said, "I like that show". I said "I understand but I am not comfortable!".
I imagine that's what all relationships come down to after time is a form of peaceful co-existance. When all things are considered (yes, I do love NPR) I think that might just be ok.

TDT or Assisted Living- part 5

My new subtitle for my series will also be the name of my TV show. So networks, get ready! The Lab Visit. For some reason the Doc (the last one in a line of fired ones-more on that someday) thinks The Dad should have some blood work. So I proceed to the Lab. One would think that would be it-a little waiting, a little poking, a little leaving. But, NOOOOO. The Lab assigns take home duty (ah, yeah, that is a double entendre). Now, he has to engage in a difficult set of steps (3) of which I will not be a party to (yes it is ok now to end a sentence with a preposition...) It did not happen according to the plan. I am ok with that. What could it detect anyway? He has made it to the amazing age of 90,eye sight,walking with the help of a mere cane, ok he can't hear and his mind is going, but basically ok. I really don't think I have to push on this. Yeah, I know, more double entendres... and this is what my life has become.

The Daughter Track (TDT) part 4

Am I repeating myself, repeating myself? Sadly I have no patience. I was given the "does not suffer fools" stamp at birth and all my life I have had to fight it. Mostly, unsuccessfully. I am generally: snarky, sarcastic, deeming, rude. I know it and for that I have had to learn to apologize. Wouldnt it just be easier to stop this behavior? Ya think? See. Even in my imaginary conversation I can't help myself. I am a bitter ol'queen (this is not an offensive statement, because in my mind, BOQ's are quick and witty. Sure there is an edge of meanness. If you had been attacked all your life you would too. This is the gay version of The Dozen's. Look that up if you have no idea what I just said.0 Back to the original thought (and that's another thing about me. I get distracted easily-in conversation, that is). I have a particularly low threshold for my father's repeating things. I generally go from about a 2 to a 10 in nothin' flat. And I know this is wrong. He has no short term memory. I will repeat myself, for my benefit. He has no short term memory. And yet I want him to use what's left of his brain to try to rationally figure out things. Why do I do that? Most people are incapable of rationally figuring out things (see political situation in the US circa, well the whole life of the country really, but especially since Reagan...). So why would I think this sweet 90 year old man, who was never a Rhodes scholar could do that now? Personality flaw they call it is AA. Indeed.