Question: How come I can watch the movie Pretty Woman over and over without getting tired of it?
Answer: Fantasies are fantastic. What could be better than a macho, uber successful, stunning man flipping over a beautful, smart hooker with a hear of gold and deciding to give up his self-centered life for her love. I am transposed into Vivian for two whole hours. A man is giving me money to buy clothes on Rodeo Drive, having passionate sex with me in an elegant hotel suite that’s bigger than my apartment, and introducing me to fascinating food, culture and people.
Imagine, one single man capable of giving so much to one single woman! Edgar gave me his credit card briefly after we met, but took it back when he thought I was charging too much on it (and I was no where near Beverly Hills). Douglas taught me a lot about art, but wasn’t big on passionate sex. And most of the fascinating people I’ve met through David are former clients who spent some time in jail (he’s a criminal attorney.)
On the other hand, I guess I’ve gotten what I needed in each of my relationships. Besides, I’ve earned the money to buy my own clothes. Some of the greatest museums and restaurants in the world are all around me. And I’ve met–and continue to meet–fabulous people through my career.
I can’t complain. Nevertheless, I’ll take a good fantasy any day of the week. So would Julia Roberts, I assume.
As I prepared to do the laundry this morning (this being Saturday, my usual laundry day), I was wondering if I could machine wash a black dress that I love. I located the care label and saw the familiar little symbol (the one that looks sort of looks like the tub of a washing machine) with the number 30 in it, so I knew it was fine to throw it in with the rest of the wash (even though I have no idea what temperature 30 is!) I never remember (or never knew) what all the other little symbols on the label mean, so I decided it was high time to hit the Google key.
For the benefit of all my FOF pals who are tired of spending so much at the dry cleaners, here is a handy little guide to laundry symbols. I found it at a nifty site called www.textileaffairs.com. I’m not turning into Martha Stewart, but it never hurts to impart a bit of practical info.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
PS Another little tidbit: Care labels that say “dry clean only” are often liars. The finest cashmere garments, for example, can absolutely by machine washed in cold water on the gentle cycle. Use a detergent specifically formulated for cashmere or a little baby shampoo. Trust me on this one. I’ve been hand-knitting sweaters from cashmere yarn for years and learned this care fact somewhere along the way from another knitter. You can even put cashmere garments in the dryer on low-low-heat, but just long enough, say 10 minutes,to extract some of the water. Then let the garment air dry flat. (Now I do feel like Martha!)
When FOF Bibi was a college freshman, she lost vision in one eye for a few days. The diagnosis was optic neuritis, an inflammation of Bibi’s optic nerve. Her vision returned, but the doctors said the episode could mean she’d eventually develop multiple sclerosis, which is inflammation and damage to nerves in the brain and spinal cord.
Bibi is an avid reader with wide-ranging interests, including modern American fiction and film and music criticism.
Bibi was fine for twenty years. She became a music teacher at a New York City private school, married Ted, a journalist, and had two children. (Coincidentally, Bibi was one of my son’s teachers and Ted worked for me as an editor, at the same time.)
Around the early 90s, Bibi could barely move in hot weather, but attributed her intense exhaustion to having young kids. “It also was hard for me to bounce back after my second child was born,” she told me. By now, you’ve undoubtedly guessed that Bibi was experiencing the initial symptoms of MS.
Within a few years, Bibi had to quit teaching because it became harder and harder for her to move. Today, Bibi’s left leg and arm are practically useless and she spends a great deal of time at home because she can no longer drive. “I go into weird contortions to get around in the house but use a wheelchair when we go out,” she explained. “I once asked Ted if I move like a drunk person, and he answered ‘drunk people move faster,” she remembered with a chuckle. The meds she was prescribed over the years were “horrible,” so she stopped using them.
“Ted has been amazing and my daughter has been an angel every single day of her life,” Bibi said. “Once, when she was a little tiny thing and I was having trouble maneuvering a snowed-in street, she piped up, ‘you can do it!’”
Bibi misses working and wishes she could at least volunteer to help older people. She’s grateful to friends who stop by and call, and talks about a former female student who visited often. “She’d call and say she was in my neighborhood and asked if she could come by for a chat,” Bibi related. “She actually lived 45 minutes away and was trying not to make me feel that she was going out of her way to see me.” The woman died in her forties of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
When I asked Bibi if she resents what’s happened to her, she answered, “Compared to most of the world, I have it pretty great. Think about all the poverty. I can have a cup of coffee and biscotti.” I also asked what she likes to do when she’s alone during the day. “It’s all about surviving since it’s dangerous for me to move around and I worry about falling. But I love to read and listen to incredible music on You Tube, like Mozart, Bach and Schubert. Ted and I also love Dylan. I listen to music over and over and over.”
Bibi, you are an inspiration.
When Colby was six weeks old, I had to take a business trip to Hawaii (seriously), and Douglas wanted to join me. We were advised to have a will drawn up before we left. Although we didn’t have many worldly possessions (no house, car or diamond tiaras), we understood that we needed to name a guardian for our baby if something happened to us.
It’s thirty-one years later, and while I don’t need a guardian for my 31 and 29-year-old “kids,” I still need a will. The will explains how I want my possessions divided (right down the middle) and what happens if (God forbid) my kids and I perish together. Even without a will, Colby and Simone would automatically be entitled to inherit my estate (that word always sounds like someone is a Rockefeller or an Astor), because I’m divorced and they are my next of kin. But the will still makes the process easier.
I also have a living will, which explains that I don’t want to be kept alive by “artificial means or heroic measures…” if my medical condition is “hopeless, my deterioration irreversible or the maintenance of my life an overwhelming responsibility for my family.”
The reason I decided to blog about this right now is because I signed a new will and a living will today. My FOF lawyer, Ellyn Mittman, drafted a new will for me because the old version was outdated (you should review your will every five years or if your financial situation changes dramatically, she advised.)