Saturday, September 29, 2012
Chill
I chill differently in the desert than I do in the city. Even during a weekend filled with errands, and taking care of household choirs that were neglected this summer I'm able to unwind completely. I look forward to these weekends. I need them, for most importantly, they are restorative.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Jackpot
I'm not a lottery type of girl. Not sure if I've ever even played before, but when I stopped at the local convenience store for a liter of water to hydrate during this never ending spell of heat, a man was buying a lottery card, and my spontaneity kicked in. In truth, it was my father's voice nudging me to play. Something he did often. Clueless about the process, I asked the cashier a slew of questions, and picked my father's favorite numbers. He would often wax poetic about what he would do with his new found millions. A shiny new sports car was always at the top of the list. Dad this one's for you.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
The Book of Mormon
The Book of Mormon has made its way to The Pantages, and it does not disappoint. My cheeks hurt from laughing at this brilliant satire on religion and traditional musical theater. An absolutely delightful evening!
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Partners
I've developed many television series during my career, but only a handful hold a special place. The first one to leave a major imprint on my heart was a sitcom called Partners. It was the result of my first development season as a newly minted senior executive in charge of comedy at Universal. I remember receiving the first draft of the pilot. I was battle weary after a long day, but I couldn't wait to read the script. I drew a steaming bath, and settled in. The hot temperature didn't stop me from getting goosebumps. I immediately recognized how good it was -- the humor was smart, and the series had a strong point of view. I was certain the network would agree. A stellar cast, and a renown director were hired. The pilot lead to a celebratory upfront in NY, and an expanding family of talented writers and guest cast were assembled to produce the series. Every week, I looked forward to tape night, but as the season progressed it was evident we had a Must See TV series on the wrong network. I literally got sick when we didn't get a second season renewal. I was crushed to realize that sometimes doing your best isn't good enough. It was my first heartbreak as an executive, my innocence shattered.
This past weekend the writers assembled for a reunion. I was deeply touched to be included. We toasted with the first harvest from one of the creators' vineyard making the evening even more special. I will always be proud and grateful for this amazing experience and the relationships that were forged.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Art
Inspiration comes in all forms! Olga Kostina used 30,000 plastic bottle caps to adorn her home in the isolated Russian village of Kamarchaga. These colorful patterns and images of traditional macrame
motifs and various creatures living in the neighboring woodland were created by
hammering every cap by hand. The result is a shelter out of a storybook tale.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Today
I miss my camera. I miss my blog. Been making up for lost time on the work front, and thankfully rolling out our pitches late in broadcast season has paid off. We've been traveling salesmen the last two weeks, and selling our wares. It feels good. We're not done. We're ambitious, and motivated, and flowing into fall with a diverse slate we're very proud of. The intense focus has caused other passions to fade into the corners of my life, but I'm not worried. This work has been very satisfying. Our company feels as right as it did the day we hatched our plan. I've never manifested something as completely as I have my current work situation. I'm forever grateful, and optimistic about my future.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
Gone Girl
Got lost in another book this weekend, Gillian Flynn's GONE GIRL. AMAZING!! Suspenseful plot built on complex characters. An incredible look at marriage, and the personal frailties that can become a liability in life if we don't attend to our baggage. Not surprisingly, it's been number one on the best sellers list all summer.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Sunday Dinner
This is how I spent many Sundays in my youth --
sitting around a crowded dinner table in Brooklyn, eating.
sitting around a crowded dinner table in Brooklyn, eating.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Vanishing Point
Legal Drama Starring Angela Bassett Lands At NBC With Penalty
By NELLIE ANDREEVA | Friday September 7, 2012 @ 3:30pm PDTTags: Angela Bassett, NBC, Vanishing Point
NBC has closed a deal for Vanishing Point, a drama from Source Code writer Ben Ripley, which has Angela Bassett
attached to star and co-executive produce. The project, which has
received a script commitment with penalty, is described as a
character-driven legal franchise revolving around two women. One, played
by Bassett, is a brilliant yet unsympathetic rainmaker at a powerful
New York law firm whose world is suddenly and permanently upended by a
health issue. Facing this crisis, she makes her condition public and
vows to continue her practice with the help of a young brilliant
attorney she chooses to be her right hand. Sony TV is producing the
project, with Ripley executive producing alongside Sony TV-based
producers Deborah Spera and Maria Grasso.Bassett, who just wrapped the feature Olympus Has Fallen, starred in Fox’s Karyn Usher spy drama pilot last season. Gersh reps both Ripley and Bassett. Bassett is managed Lighthouse Entertainment, Ripley by Mosaic Media.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Dreams
My father often had vivid dreams. In the past year he had a recurring one involving his mother who passed away in '97. She would appear at the end of a long path or hallway, an open doorway between them. She would call to him, tell him it was time. "I'm not ready, Mom," he would reply, aggressively shutting the door in her face.
When I went to visit my father in June, he relayed that my grandmother had been visiting him again. This time he told her he was ready, as soon as the business was sold and my mother was taken care of. The business he was referring to hadn't been their business since they retired eleven years ago. But the property was still theirs. Tenants had been renting the space, but didn't renew their contract in 2011. Given the housing market, the vacant property began to weigh heavily on my parents. They were ready to sell, had several potential buyers, but all had fallen through for various reasons. My mother was already taxed caring for my father and dealing with her own health crisis so I became the point person for the realtor and the lawyer. In the hospital, I gave my father daily updates, letting him know about the various offers and the progress we were making. I promised him we'd sell it, and that my mother would be okay.
My mother called me on my way to work this morning. "It's done", she cried. She's been stoic since my father's funeral, but this broke her. "He should be here for this. We would have popped some champagne, and celebrated. This chapter of my life is closed."
The chapter opened forty-nine years ago, when my father, a hairdresser, was tired of commuting to his parents' salon in Manhattan. He wanted a place of his own. As recent homeowners with two little kids, my parents took a financial risk, purchased one of the model homes in the development, and transformed it into a beauty salon. Growing up we all put in our time answering phones, folding towels (a penny a piece), or shampooing. The salon dominated dinner conversations, sparked lifelong friendships and induced stressful fights. It also gave my parents two defining experiences in their lives -- in the beginning it gave my father much needed independence from his parents, and in later years a way for my mother to thrive as a businesswoman. A little building, filled with a lifetime of memories, is no longer just a little building.
When I went to visit my father in June, he relayed that my grandmother had been visiting him again. This time he told her he was ready, as soon as the business was sold and my mother was taken care of. The business he was referring to hadn't been their business since they retired eleven years ago. But the property was still theirs. Tenants had been renting the space, but didn't renew their contract in 2011. Given the housing market, the vacant property began to weigh heavily on my parents. They were ready to sell, had several potential buyers, but all had fallen through for various reasons. My mother was already taxed caring for my father and dealing with her own health crisis so I became the point person for the realtor and the lawyer. In the hospital, I gave my father daily updates, letting him know about the various offers and the progress we were making. I promised him we'd sell it, and that my mother would be okay.
My mother called me on my way to work this morning. "It's done", she cried. She's been stoic since my father's funeral, but this broke her. "He should be here for this. We would have popped some champagne, and celebrated. This chapter of my life is closed."
The chapter opened forty-nine years ago, when my father, a hairdresser, was tired of commuting to his parents' salon in Manhattan. He wanted a place of his own. As recent homeowners with two little kids, my parents took a financial risk, purchased one of the model homes in the development, and transformed it into a beauty salon. Growing up we all put in our time answering phones, folding towels (a penny a piece), or shampooing. The salon dominated dinner conversations, sparked lifelong friendships and induced stressful fights. It also gave my parents two defining experiences in their lives -- in the beginning it gave my father much needed independence from his parents, and in later years a way for my mother to thrive as a businesswoman. A little building, filled with a lifetime of memories, is no longer just a little building.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Wild
My mind, body and soul craved one thing this weekend: to get lost in a good book. After weeks of crisis and a frenetic schedule I needed to unwind. Social chatter was proving more and more difficult, as was attending to errands and my work to-do list. Given the holiday weekend, I cleared two days and dedicated a greater part of them to reading Cheryl Strayed's WILD. I knew from the synopsis it was going to be the perfect antidote. A young woman in a downward spiral due to her mother's untimely death commits to 100 days backpacking on the Pacific Coast Trail. I was comforted by her journey, the depths she needed to explore to heal and regain her footing. I feel slightly off kilter, and I too am searching for my own challenge, a way to make sense of the last few months. A way to gain perspective.
Labels:
Cheryl Strayed,
WILD
Monday, September 3, 2012
Summer 2012
This is how I will remember this summer: Memorial Day weekend my father started to complain of headaches and pain in his right arm. Within days his fingers were numb, and doctors appointments were being scheduled. By the Fourth of July he had spent nine consecutive days in the hospital. He was responding favorably to his first and recent round of chemo, the tumor in his neck was visibly shrinking. And now it's Labor Day, and I'm grieving his passing. It sinks in more each day, he's no longer able to get on the phone when I call my parents in New Jersey. He's not working on a new watercolor, reading a book from the library or dreaming about moving to a warmer climate. He only lives in the past. The ache is deep and penetrating, and consumes my energy. I'm grateful for a long weekend to chill, to settle in to the stillness. The crisis is over, now life is about being in the aftermath of the drama. Sorting through the many emotions, embracing the inevitable truth.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Saturday, September 1, 2012
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