TRAMBLINGS...

It's been awhile and I apologize for that. There's been a lot to adjust to on this end. The new job, planning a wedding, trying to write and maintain a normal home life and figuring out how to grieve and function at the same time. I laugh again and the nights have gotten somewhat easier, but I still have uncontrollable moments of anger. I just miss my mom so much that sadness turns to fury in the beat of a heart. She's been kind enough to visit me in my dreams and that always makes me feel better but I know I have to let go so she can go.

Last week the Crown Prince and I were having the best time out at dinner. A quick trip to BUDDHA'S BELLY after work. Halfway through the meal I could feel my chest start to close and my breathing changed. Right there in the middle of the restaurant I just lost all my cool with absolutely no warning. Ever the pro, C.P. got the check, got me out and took me for a long walk in the park with Old Man Kobe. By the time we got back to the car I felt better but I was surprised at how fast and hard that one snuck up on me. During this entire process I've heard a million stories from people about grieving. Two stuck out and captured what I'd been trying to articulate. 1) "You'll Never Get Over It But You'll Get Used To It." Damn. That one just hit home. So true. 2) "You'll never stop grieving but the episodes of grief will come further and further apart.

I shared both of these with my sisters and it seemed to give them all some comfort. On the positive side, one of things my mother wanted more than anything was a big, rousing 60th birthday party so we're going to throw her one. Cake, balloons, food, family, friends and toasts as long as people can stand and give them. Or, if the celebrations have you laid out on the floor well, then, give them from down below. All I want is a really good time in her honor and a lot of smiles.

Wedding plans are slowly coming along. It helps that I am doing a low key event. We're getting married in September out in Palm Springs. Besides actually marrying the Crown Prince I am most excited about lounging together with family and friends in the days up to after the ceremony. And damn if we didn't go to a kick ass new restaurant that can actually cook southern style food without it being down market, greasy or unhealthy. I almost licked my plate, C.P.'s and my neighbors. When the chef came out to ask if we enjoyed our meal I roped him into catering the event. Nice, huh? The coordinator called me yesterday to "talk menu" and my mouth started to water on cue. Can't wait. For any of it.

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Grief, Wedding

TRAMBLINGS...



With the help of some lovely, lovely women from UC SANTA CRUZ I finally ventured back into the land of the living. The past month or so my instinct has been to curl up in my room and shut out the world. I venture out here and there but I can do in on "robot mode". You know, I'm laughing, I'm talking, I'm telling a story but in reality "the lights ain't on". My sisters can recognize the signs and so can the Crown Prince who very gently said, "I miss you, baby."

I get it. I miss him too. Actually, I miss me but DAMN this is hard. The big triggers (Mother's Day) pass by without much notice but the little ones kick my natural ass. The phone rang last week at 1:13p.m. and I expected it to be my mother. She always called right after As The World Turns had started to tell me was about to run her errands and that the show was so stupid she didn't know why she bothered to watch anymore. She'd ask me if I knew something or other about one of the characters and I'd tell her (every day) that I didn't watch the show and I didn't know. She'd follow that up with "have you read anything on the internet?" Endless source of amusement to me and my sisters. I miss that silly call so when the phone rang at 1:13 I lost all semblance of the cool I had managed to muster the past couple weeks. C.P. to his endless credit rode it out like a champ. I ranted and raved, ranted some more, raved even harder, and he went along for every crazy loop of my emotional rollercoaster. I might have to clone that fool or at the very least have his baby. Whichever one comes first...

Anyway, I've been on autopilot for weeks but tonight I couldn't fake it and that felt good. I read to a room full of writing students, answered their questions and then went to dinner with a small group of students and FACULTY. Just really nice genuine people. I'm so excited to see what the students will do in the future. When I was asked to participate in the Living Writers Series by MICAH PERKS I suggested a short story contest. I received the manuscripts a couple of weeks ago and I was really impressed with the batch of submissions. The winners were announced at the reading and I was able to spend time with all three of them. I truly hope they keep in touch with me.

The university put me up at a cozy little hotel right on the sea cliffs. I can hear the surf crashing against the shore right outside my door. Peaceful, right? Well, not when I arrived. The first room they gave me left a lot to be desired. So much so I dubbed it "The Murder Cabin". I called C.P. and asked if I should just bail to another hotel. His answer. "Immediately." I think he was just imagining me calling him all night to complain about everything under the sun.

After I hung up I called the front desk to ask for another room.

FRONT DESK: How can I help you?
ME: I'd like another room. Something upgraded and a little bit more fancy.
FRONT DESK: Did you mess up the room you're already in?
ME: (STARING AT THE RECEIVER) What?
FRONT DESK: (In a slow voice). Did. You. Mess. Up. That. Room.
ME: No.
FRONT DESK: (real fast) Did you go to the bathroom?
ME: (ONCE AGAIN STARING AT THE RECEIVER) What?
FRONT DESK: Did you go to the bathroom?
ME: Uh, no.
FRONT DESK: Really? Cause that's the first thing people usually do when they check in?
ME: The rope, ticker tape, whatever you call it is still wrapped around the toilet.
FRONT DESK: Did you touch anything else?
ME: No.
FRONT DESK: Okay, cool. Come down here and I'll give you some keys so you can look at the other rooms.

Once I got to the front desk the very young clerk explained that the maid was gone which was why he stressed about the state of the room. I understood but my initial response was, "Fuck the maid, get an exorcist." I smiled instead and accepted his compliments about my necklace and the "whole cool thing I had going on". When I gave him my I.D. he looked at the address then said, "Oh, you're from L.A", as if it explained everything. Maybe it did. All I know is the upgrade included a fireplace, a flat screen TV and a jacuzzi tub. To quote my ever quotable mama, "A closed mouth don't get fed. Ask for what you want, baby." Shouldn't we all live by that?

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Reading, Santa Cruz

TRAMBLINGS...

Okay, I'm going to give this a try. We'll see what happens.

Thank you all for your kind emails. I tried to answer each and every one. If I missed you please don't hold it against me. My mind is scattered in a million pieces which is actually a natural stage of grief. In my case, anger (scorching hot lava type anger) and bewilderment are the most heavily rotated emotions. All normal from what I've heard but I'm working on it. I am managing to laugh here and there. The Crown Prince has turned into a stand-up comic and I appreciate that. Yesterday we had a belly laugh (that extended to my girlfriends via email) when we remembered an incident that occurred when we were "new to the city".

The two of us lived in a one bedroom apartment near the La Brea Tarpits when we first moved to Los Angeles. It was a four story building filled with all kinds of folks trying to "make it in L.A." One of them was a photographer named Burns. Odd cat. Seemed like a holdover from the seventies but nice enough. Well, C.P. was notorious in our building for leaving his clothes in the laundry room. One day we came home from a movie and Burns was standing out front dressed in C.P.'s clothes. He was all spit-shined and polished, looking good for a Big Date. I took one look at him and died laughing. It took C.P. a minute then he shouted out, "What the f*ck, Burns? Are those my clothes?" Burns had the good sense to be embarrassed but you could also tell that he was proud of the ensemble and didn't want to take it off. All he said was, "Come on, man, come on." He wore the clothes on his big date then returned them in a dry cleaning bag. I don't think C.P. ever wore the items again but they made me smile every time I saw them hanging in the closet. That happened over 10 years ago but we laughed like it was yesterday.

Laughing as usual helps. My sisters and I use it as a salve in our darkest moments. Not only did we lose our mother but we lost our best friend. I talked to my mom at least six times a day. At least. Sometimes it was a quick call, a fast question answered. Sometimes we'd chat for hours. And the cliche is true. I reach for the phone throughout the day to make a quick call. No one on the other end. My sisters did the same thing. So, now, we made a pact to call each other whenever we get the urge to call our mom. My phone rings in the middle of the night and I pick it up. Before all of this I would just let it ring to voicemail. Now I pick it up and if the caller says, "Tell me a funny story about mom. Quick." Then I know they are battling the same demon as me. The one that wants to replace the beautiful images we've had all our lives with the heart-stopping ones from the hospital. Well, that demon can kiss "my natural ass" (which is a mom expression). F*ck him. Seriously. And I'm assuming he's a guy but I could be wrong. Judy Coleman left too much love and happiness and funny stories for the ugliness and pain of it all to prevail.

Last week I remembered when she pulled into a gas station riding on empty. She asked for five dollars worth of gas. (I know I've told this story before but hang in there with me). The attendant threw off a little attitude and said, "That's not enough gas." She snapped back. "It's enough to get me to a cheaper gas station." So funny that lady.

And when humor doesn't help there's always music. I ended the service with Stevie Wonder's "AS" which is usually a wedding song but those lyrics... ("Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky -- Loving you. Until the ocean covers every mountain high -- Loving you. Until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea -- Loving you. Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream -- Loving you. Until the day is night and night becomes the day -- Loving you. Until the trees and seas up, up and fly away -- Loving you.")... Well, you get the picture.

I made a mix that I've been playing a lot. It's random as usual but it makes me think of her. Songs she liked, songs I liked. It's playing now. Actually, "As" played three times in a row even though the IPOD is on shuffle. Hmmm.

The Songs

When the Saints Go Marching In, Helen Hume (the Louisiana influence)
As, Stevie Wonder
Free Bird (Slow Bird), Arnold McCuller (slow version of Free Bird that will give you chills)
To My Father's House, Edwin Hawkins Singers (this one makes me feel so good. By the time the tamborines come in, I am DONE. DONE. DONE. I'm right there.)
I Shall Believe, Sheryl Crow
If You're Ready, The Staple Singers
Do Watcha Wanna, Rebirth Brass Band (Louisiana again)
Joy & Pain, Maze (my daddy's favorite group)
Gravity, John Mayer
One of These Mornings, Moby
Long Road, Eddie Vedder
Tennessee Waltz, Sam Cooke
Angel From Montgomery, Bonnie Riatt

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Music

This is the tribute I read for my mother last week at the funeral...

When I sat down to write this tribute my mind became overwhelmed with memories. I let myself become frantic with worry that I'd leave something out, that I wouldn't quite capture who my mother was to me and my sisters, and to each one of you here today. I wanted to find a way to illustrate just how wickedly funny she could be, how her commentary about life, about people, was often dead-on and eerily accurate. I wanted to let you all know just how much my sisters and I loved her, how much she meant to her grandchildren, to her partner, Lawrence, my granddaddy, her brothers, sister and friends, and just how much we would all miss her.

I woke up with stories, went to bed with stories, walked around thinking of stories, I'd chose one, discard another, but within all this shifting and changing one thing remained consistent. Ten years ago, my sisters and I buried our father. Today is infinitely harder than that. Not because we loved our father any less but because after his death we came to understand the true meaning of loss.

My sisters and I will have to figure out how to move forward from here, without our mother. When our father died, we had her by our side to help us navigate the murky waters of grief, we still have her - we understand that - in the lessons she taught us, in the examples she set, but just last week we also had her touch, the sound of her voice, her smile, her laugh.

This week we inherited the words "never again". Never again will we get to spend an entire weekend "tripping in and out of stores" as she called it, buying things we didn't need but enjoyed anyway, never again will we be able to call her with an exciting piece of news, or a story that makes her laugh, never again will we be able to walk through her front door and cry on her shoulder until whatever weight we carried became light enough so that we could walk back out into the world again.

The other day I woke up in a panic when I couldn't recall her voice. Then I spent the afternoon with Simone, her oldest granddaughter, and as she told me a story and I listened, I thought, "Oh, there it is. There’s her voice". That revelation allowed me to open my eyes and remember that Samariah has her sense of humor and that same ability to size people up in an instant. And Santana has my mother's big, generous heart and her healing hugs. Sweet Lisa, my sister, inherited her compassion and the same intangible gift of making you feel better just by being in her presence. Nichelia looks like my mother, and my grandmother, more so than any of us, and she's also an amazingly, present, and natural mother. And you can look right at Nichelin, to see, my mother's smile. It lives right there on her face whenever any of us need to see it, and she - like my mother - can always make a new friend.

And each of you here today has her story. We all have her stories. Some of you have shared them this week through phone calls and letters. We appreciate every one of them. Some we'd heard before, some we hadn't, some made us laugh, some made us cry, but they all brought her full force back into the room, made her breath again for the space of time it took for the story to be told.

I've made my living as a writer and now my most important job is to keep her story alive. These won't be the tales that pay my bills and support my family, these will be the ones that keep all of our hearts wide open, put smiles on our faces, and keep her here with us until the very end. These will be the most important stories I ever tell so that my mother walks out of here with you today, and continues to march at the side of each one of us.

A good friend once heard someone say that losing a mother was like an astronaut being cut lose from the mothership, floating in space without an anchor, weightless, tied to nothing. Lost. I am going to try and fight that. We’re all going to fight that by remaining just as important to each other as we were when she was alive. My sisters and I will be anchors for one another. That's how she'll remain alive for us, that's how we'll face life without her here in the way we've grown to know, that's how we'll honor her, when we continue to love each other the way she loved each one of us.

I started out this week focusing on everything that we'd lost, on the pain, the incredible breathtaking grief, and if I'm honest - the profound anger - and then I remembered something that happened when this illness first took hold. Lisa was sitting alone with my mother at the hospital when she woke up suddenly from a sound sleep. She was half-conscious when she began to look around the room for something that she wanted. She found them there in mid-air. A pair of scissors, a tool of the trade that had sustained her throughout life. Lisa watched as she began to hum to herself, and cut an imaginary pattern out of thin air. My sweet sister had the presence of mind to allow the scene to play out without interference. My mother continued sewing, running the fabric through the machine, taking out a stitch, looking it over until finally she seemed satisfied with her creation. Lisa asked her softly, "What you doing, mama?” and she answered "making something". Lisa asked her what she was sewing and she responded, "something for my heart. It's broken."

Well, so is ours. My beautiful mama is gone.

You'll hear a lot of stories this afternoon, some true, some embellished for dramatic effect but if you hear nothing else today, hear this, this woman, Judy Tramble, was the absolute love of our lives. We will miss her every moment that we breath, but we will make sure with your help that she continues to live. Forever.

Thank you for coming.

Labels: Family, My Mother, Tributes

TRAMBLINGS...

Mom made it through the second surgery but post-op has not been a walk in the park. My sisters and I continue to try to keep it in perspective. Laughter helps. Yesterday, on my way back to the airport, I stopped by the hospital for a quick visit. Mom was in and out, clearer than she has been but still a little woozy. Our conversations reflect that.

Here's the one from yesterday.

MOM: Can you get that pony out of here?
ME: Sure. Just let me fix your blankets.

She falls asleep and when she wakes up.

MOM: Is that pony gone?
ME: Yep, I got him out of here awhile ago.
MOM: Did he give you any trouble?
ME: He wasn't any trouble at all. He listened really well. Like Kobe.
MOM: What did he say when you told him he had to go?
ME: Not much.
MOM: Good. Make sure he doesn't come back.

But, honestly, my favorite moment of drugged communication was a couple weeks ago when she woke up long enough to order my sister and I to, "Call Sprint and tell them to bring me my bed pan." My sister, the most even-tempered woman on the planet responded (without missing a beat) "I already called. They're on their way."

Why Sprint? Why not AT&T or Verizon? She doesn't even use Sprint.

Comedy in the middle of the horror. Every time I think of that sleepy demand it makes me laugh. When we told her about it later she shared a good laugh with us after searching our faces to see if we were pulling her leg. We weren't but once in awhile I wonder if she's pulling ours.

Until next time...

Labels: Family

TRAMBLINGS...

The surgery went well. Now we're gearing up for the second one which will happen tomorrow. I admit to being a raw nerve on Monday operating on some insane form of auto-pilot. Whatever works. Your emails had me weepy all day. I appreciate the kindness in every one of them.

While going to and from the hospital and to and from L.A., I've picked up books here and there but nothing has caught my interest. Since December (when this kicked off in full force) I've started at least fifteen books and I haven't gotten to the end of anything but I AM LEGEND, which was a novella so it kinda doesn't count (excuse the messiness of that sentence but I'm fried). I think I found a solution. Years ago I read...


(BACKROADS by Tawni O'Dell)

...and loved every page of it. When COAL RUN came out I passed it up because of the setting. I usually like small town stories but the coal mine element turned me away. I was wrong and I admit it. I should have trusted this author.



In the random moments when I actually have free time I rush to this book. The next two, well, you'll understand why I have them...


SOUTHERN WEDDINGS


FETE

Anyway, if you have any book recommendations please send them my way.

Until next time...

Labels: Books, Family

TRAMBLINGS...

My mother's very intense (very long 6-hour surgery) started twenty five minutes ago. My sisters and I all called each other to say a prayer. THE FINISH PARTY is sending positive, healing thoughts her way as are my girlfriends and family members. And for some reason, though none of you knew the schedule, I got a ton of emails last night and this morning asking about her and telling me that she's in your hearts and minds. Some of you I haven't heard from in months. Isn't that something? Your prayers, positive thoughts, and sincere interest have helped at every step of this maddening journey. I cannot thank you enough.

I am in Los Angeles but I saw her this weekend before the surgery. My sisters and I laughed with her, treated her to a little mini-spa and showered her with kisses. She asked to see my wedding dress so I took it to her hospital room. It got the big thumbs up and a "that's perfect, Chelle." I've postponed the ceremony until September in order to give her some rally time but I also recognize that most things are out of my hands these days and will change as change happens.

We all are learning what we're made of as we face one crisis after another. Some days it takes all I have not to scream and not stop for 24 hours. At least on the outside. Inside I am howling like a beast. Last week, after my second day back at WMC, I felt my chest and throat starting to close up from the pressure, and stress, of being so far away from her. I was in the writer's room when the worst of it hit but I kept looking at another writer in the room who has generously and compassionately shared her own experience. She gave me a smile not knowing that I needed it so bad at that moment. My cell rang soon afterwards. I am notorious for not turning on my phone, leaving it in drawers or letting the battery run out. Not these days. The phone rang and I recognized the number of the hospital. It was a nurse telling me that my mother wanted to speak to me.

They put her on the phone and she started to chit-chat as if nothing was wrong. Small talk in the middle of my work day which would've annoyed me in other times. I kept the conversation going and then she said out of the blue, "Don't feel guilty, baby. You need to be where you are. You need to maintain your life, continue following your dream. I am fine. It makes me stronger to know that you're out in the world doing what's important to you. I know you're with me, I feel it all the time."

How did she know that at just that moment I saw myself on a plane headed back to the Bay Area? How did she know to call me at exactly that moment? How did she fight her way to be clear enough to express all those things in the midst of her pain?

When I saw her this weekend she had absolutely no recollection of the phone call or our conversation.

This is why, for my entire life, I have always believed in the things that can't be explained. Life has never been black or white but various shades of gray. The same can be said for love. How else would she know just what her daughter needed, at the moment she needed it, when it had never been expressed? How did she know that she had to fight her way out of a drug haze to reach out to me? How did you all know, today of all days, that I needed your emails?

I can't explain it and I don't want to. I just want to say thank you.

UPDATE: In response to this blog post I got this wonderful message from a friend. "It does seem like in moments of extremity there is often this very real sense the rules of place and time start to break down and we know and feel things that we shouldn't be able to know or feel."

That's what I was trying to say.

SECOND UPDATE: This one from one of my best girlfriends, a true-life Steel Magnolia who nicknamed my mother Mama T. "You go to breaking down, letting those super-human muscles of yours wain, it's selfish right now. You gotta maintain it, girl. Chin fucking up. Bed made and red lipstick on. If you can't do that for the people around you right now, you gotta at least do it for your mama. You're her daughter; the one she looks to in order to gage the world around her. You fake it til she makes it."

Until next time...

Labels: Family

TRAMBLINGS...

THE LATEST as of this afternoon. I have no idea what that means for me but I hope/wish with all my heart (whether or not I'm involved) that the show continues. As the Crown Prince said when we it first aired, "You would've had me watching this on Friday nights no matter what." True. My kind of show and it's perfect for a Friday evening after a long week.

Now, quick question, is RANDY JACKSON the most inarticulate man in America? I'm just curious. And what in the world is up with his bizarre and inappropriate use of current - and not so current - use of slang. A half-hearted audition does not warrant the phrase, "Good looking out" on this or any other planet in the solar system. No matter how hard you twist it around it just doesn't work. I saw him once, by the way, speeding past my house in a Range Rover stuffed with teeny bopper girls singing at the top of their lungs. C.P. and I just laughed and finished unloading the groceries.

Lastly, just to illustrate the humor in this horrendous medical situation, when my sister and I checked my mom (yes, most of you have guessed correctly and thank you again for the kind words) into the hospital she was weak and in tremendous pain. The nurse took her name, etc, then asked if she was "being abused at home". Without missing a beat my mom turned slowly to me and raised an eyebrow. A sense of humor in the worst circumstances is the one thing that keeps the Tramble women chugging forward.

There's also a doctor at the hospital with the worst toupe/hairpiece/wig in the history of mankind. I just don't know what to say, or think, when he passes us by. The nurses exchange looks so my guess is that it's a much-discussed subject on the medical campus. Anyway, he always seems to appear when we're feeling low and it sets us off like nothing else. I know we shouldn't be talking shit and making fun of people but the gallows humor keeps us all from losing our shit on a permanent basis and there's just no room for that. Last week we'd received a disheartening bit of news when he stepped onto the elevator with the two of us. Good lord, it was like being back in high school when trying to suppress laughter caused you to laugh even harder. Of course, we weren't rude enough to laugh anywhere near the man (who knows what his circumstances are) but once he was out of earshot my sister just asked, "What the f*ck?" Indeed.

Mostly our visits are quiet but about a month ago we arrived to learn that for about five hours our mom had a roommate that kept asking for KEYSER SOSE. Finally, just to keep her quiet the nurses had Sose call the woman on the phone. Her response, "Keyser, I've been waiting on you all day." My mom's response, "I'm going to sleep tonight but I'm not doing it with her in this room so do what you have to do." They moved her. And that's my mom strong even when she's weak.

I took my wedding dress to the hospital today because she wanted to see it. She was too sleepy to open her eyes so I'll take it again tomorrow. And the next day and the next.

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Reality TV, WMC

TRAMBLINGS...

Apologies for the radio silence. The family illness that I wrote about in the last post has progressed. A silver lining of the strike is the fact that I actually have the time to spend at home. I am in the Bay Area until the strike ends and then I'll probably spend weekends in northern California. I can't thank you enough for the kind emails and messages that you've sent my way. I appreciate it and so does my family. It's a strange time. Within a twenty four period I was in a bridal salon and an emergency room. Blew my mind. The wedding plans are proceeding at warp speed because of the circumstances but it will be relatively low key. The ceremony itself will be for immediate family. We'll have a reception (possibly a repeat of the vows) in July that will include the blow out party with all the dancing, food, etc. My plan is a southern-style BBQ but my sister insists that BBQ and a white dress are a big, big mistake. We'll see.

Anyway, the support that has come my way has been staggering. I've spent tons of time talking about my girlfriends and, as always, I don't know what I'd do without them. They make me feel lucky in this lifetime, as do the women of the Finish Party, sorority sisters, various co-workers from over the years and my sisters. I cannot fathom a life without female friendships. It wouldn't work for me. I'm always tempted to make the sign of the cross when I meet women who don't have girlfriends. Makes them suspect in my eyes. A little judgemental but that's my honest take on it. About ten years ago I worked for a woman who told me "women can't be trusted" to justify why she only hung out with men. I smiled, nodded and immediately translated her words to, "I can't be trusted. Ever." Turned out to be true. Big time. More on that later.


(Stephen King's DUMA KEY)

Still having trouble staying focused enough to read. I've stopped and started at least ten books. Nothing holds my interest. My mind is too wild. Magazines, short stories and movies are about all I can handle. Stephen King might do the trick with something fantastical. Glad to see he has something new in stores.

Lastly, I believe I found my wedding gown. I said I wanted "the dress" and I think I found it when I broke down into sobs once I put it on. Granted I am under a lot of pressure and extremely emotional but it was just so pretty. One of my girlfriends was with me and she cried too. The women in the salon dubbed the dress their "Sophia Loren". More red carpet than princess which is exactly what I wanted. You know, age-appropriate and all that. I did try on a princess gown for the sake of pleasing my sister and I looked ridiculous. Like a stompy little oompah loompah. We had a good laugh before I took it off. I have one more appointment next week. I'm going to try on a couple more dresses but, seriously, Sophia Loren will be a hard act to follow.

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Friendships, Wedding

TRAMBLINGS...

How's everyone? Much of the same on this end except for a serious family illness that will keep me in northern California for awhile. (One good thing about this damn strike, huh?) I've been here for a week after a quick return to L.A. to stock up on warm clothes, books and the files I needed for the book project. Because L.A. has actually been cold I had a bunch of new sweaters that have come in handy. You already heard about the coat but I also managed to find a long, black down jacket for $30 that I've officially moved into. It's my new address. The illness, of course, is daunting, scary, humbling and fucked-up. Good days and bad days as we deal but I have been seriously overwhelmed by the love and kindness people have shown my family. All positive thoughts and energy are welcome.

Since I was seven years old and I stapled together scratch paper to make my first "book" writing has been a refuge for me. I am trying to get back to that place during some of the down time but it's hard. My mind wanders, and for lack of a better description I can't get my mental marbles to roll in the same direction. I can actually visualize a gang of colorful marbles in my head all going every which way. The Crown Prince suggests that I take it easy and not be too hard on myself but, frankly, I'm never hard on myself so I need to get it together and be productive.

I went through my files yesterday, tried to find the seed of what got me going on this story. I had a great hour or two where I re-read pages I haven't opened in over two years. I also found notes from THE FINISH PARTY that were very helpful. They still make a lot of sense so I'll spend this evening typing them up in a sort of cheat sheet reference file. My fingers are itching, my mind is jumping to create, so it's just a matter of me taming the marbles or at least getting them to sit still and be quiet.

The wedding stuff is coming along (a nice distraction for everyone) though it looks like Sonoma or Napa may have to fill in for Santa Barbara, my first-first-first choice. I love Santa Barbara (and I always have) but it just as easily serve as a honeymoon locale. The Wine Country is just as beautiful and only an hour away from my family. We'll see.

The past couple days I've been watching Academy Screeners with the family. (A perk of WGA membership). So far I've received 3:10 TO YUMA, JUNO, THE SAVAGES, SWEENEY TODD, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, LARS AND THE REAL GIRL, MARGOT AT THE WEDDING, AWAY FROM HER, KNOCKED UP, DAN IN REAL LIFE, DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY, INTO THE WILD, ZODIAC, THE KITE RUNNER and THERE WILL BE BLOOD. Loved 3:10 TO YUMA (but in the interest of full disclosure one of the screenwriters is a friend of the Crown Prince), JUNO, LARS and AWAY FROM HER. MARGOT AT THE WEDDING made me want to pull out my own teeth. DAN IN REAL LIFE and THE SAVAGES held my interest but that's about all. KNOCKED UP was just not that funny to me. I know people went crazy for the movie but it didn't work for me. But, what do I know, SUPERBAD had me in hysterics.

The screenwriter of JUNO has gotten a tremendous amount of press and she deserves all the accolades. Just so well-written. The actors were great. I especially loved Jason Bateman, he just captured that broken-down weariness you see in the eyes of husbands who have one foot out of their marriage. Jennifer Garner was also impressive with her wound-up sadness. I think I'll watch again.

In the meantime, NYC/RAGAZZA pointed me toward two essays written by the creator of BROTHERS & SISTERS. Part One covers how his WORK drove him from L.A. (He was ousted from his own show). PART TWO focuses on the perils of living and loving in Los Angeles. The New York versus L.A. argument rarely covers new ground but he makes points that are shape enough to shave with. Take a look.

WOMEN'S MURDER CLUB ran it's last new epiosde on Friday the 4th. That was the last one completed before the strike. There were some repeats during the month of December but, unfortunately, mine wasn't one of them for those of you who missed it. It's also not available online but, hopefully, one or the other will change in the next few months. THE WIRE is back though and that is ALWAYS good news.

Lastly, when I decided to make the transition from author to TV writer, I had a mentor who was just amazing. I met with her weekly for six months and she always had time for me no matter what was going on in her life. She helped me with my RESCUE ME spec, read the LAW & ORDER: SVU that I'd completed before I met her, and gave me notes on the original one-hour drama I'd written the year before. She was great. She also talked a lot about opening an entertainment consultancy and this week she did just that. Visit her new WEBSITE (isn't she sooooo cute?) and if you're thinking of making the jump to television then you don't need to look anywhere else. Seriously, this woman was hugely instrumental in me getting a job on WMC. Good luck!

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Movies, THE FINISH PARTY, Writing

TRAMBLINGS...

Quick post. After two weeks of getting home at two, three and four o'clock in the morning your girl is wiped out. The last day of filming for my episode is Thursday and this is all I have to say...production ain't for sissies. Those folks work hard. On Thursday the Crown Prince and I will also learn whether or not WE'RE ON STRIKE. I am hoping for the best and expecting anything but. A busy week in our household. My mother arrives tomorrow night for a two day visit to the set. She'll be here for the most emotional scenes which should be interesting for her. Next week I am traveling with my mom and sisters to celebrate all of our birthdays together. Looking forward to the family time.

Okay, gotta run, but bop on over to Shelfari and take a look at my BOOKSHELF. As of now I have 740 books for you to browse but I'm not done with the updates. Keep checking back and add me to your friend list so that I can find new titles. I just joined last weekend and I love the site. So far I have eleven friends but I can always use more. Lastly, I started the CLAPTON biography and I picked up THE JOURNAL OF JOYCE CAROL OATES: 1973-1982. LOOKING FOR JJ also caught my eye. I've had a similar idea for years so I'm curious to see how the author pulls it off.

Until next time...

Labels: Books, Family, Women's Murder Club

TRAMBLINGS


So, I went back and forth on this (which is why I am late with this post) and I couldn't decide if I wanted to blog the subject or not. I try to avoid really personal subjects unless it somehow relates to writing or books or something that can be used in the pursuit of writing. Once in awhile things slip in (random conversations with the Crown Prince) but I mostly play them for humor. Anyway, there was a death in the family last week and the reason I decided to write about it here is because it really turned into a celebration. The funeral last Thursday ended up being one of the most wonderful days I've ever spent with my family.

My Great Grandmother, whom I wrote about last year, passed away in her sleep at the age of 100. Now, really, who wouldn't sign up for that? She was born in 1906 and almost made it to 101. She was still sharp as a whip with her wicked, wicked sense of humor firmly in tact. She was frail toward the end but there was no denying the twinkle in her eye. Thursday was filled with sadness but there was also so much laughter and a million hugs. The hardest part for me was watching my Grandmother say goodbye to her mother but, at the same time, I thought how beautiful it must have been to have your mother for over 80 years. The love was flowing amongst the Tramble clan and I got to see relatives I hadn't seen in a very, very long time. At the end of the night it was hard to get back on the plane to Los Angeles, it was hard to leave my mother and sisters, but I also felt an incredible sense of peace.

As you all know, I have a new writing gig, and a couple people asked if I felt uncomfortble asking for a day off so soon after joining the staff. Honestly, that hadn't occured to me and the showrunners were just amazing. I only missed one day of work but I knew in my heart that they weren't the kind of people who'd hold something like that against anyone on their staff. I had to say a thank you for landing on a show with such a good group of people because I know that's not the case everywhere. Actually, the past week has been filled with a million silent thanks.

What I'd like to take from the spirit of the funeral service is the promise to remember, appreciate and honor the things in my life that work. A couple years ago I started saying out loud, "At this moment I am very happy. Who knows what happens next but right now, at this moment, I recognize my fortune and happiness." It's a little New Agey but those words helped me to stop complaining and agonizing over things that I couldn't change. If I could change them than I really had no right to complain. In light of that, I've tried really hard to keep it positive and keep it moving. Sometimes I fail but that's okay too.

The preacher who oversaw the ceremony was a little too choreographed for my taste and I've never been a fan of the fire and brimstone school of preaching but he did hit hard on family and that I can appreciate. Those nine hours up in the Bay Area made me realize how special they all are to me. Blessed is an overused word but I have been blessed with a wonderful blood family and the family of friends I've created out here on my own.

My girlfriends, whom I talk about at every turn, are family to me. I love those women fiercely and my feelings for them have only grown more intense as we get older. The Finish Party, which is the name of my writing group, is dynamic and I love them like I've known 'em for years. Interesting enough, one of the women knew the Crown Prince before she knew me. I'd heard about her for years and she even lived close by but I'd never met her. Now I just love her to pieces and I'm convinced that the end of another friendship made room for her. Sometimes when she and I are hanging out I am struck by the similarities between her and my old friend. I still mourn that friendship but I also understand that there might not have been room for all these wonderful new people if that friendship still existed in it's original incarnation. The Crown Prince, the Queen Mother and Kobe all know how much I love them and if they don't, well, here you go.

So, thanks for putting up with me today. I know this post is a little sappy but I've been accused of worse things. I'll miss my Great Grandmother but I love the idea of her teasing my father and him teasing her right back. Teasing always got a smile out of him and that meant the dimples would make an appearance. Now that's happines.

Lastly, I hope you're all well. I hope your families are safe. Thanks for stopping by.

Until next time...

Labels: Family, Friends, Home

TRAMBLINGS. . .

Busy. Busy. Busy. I knew that my posts would slow down once my program kicked into full gear and last week it did just that. Like I said before - I finished the spec episode and I am very proud of the final result. What happens after this is truly out of my hands. My job was to write a sample decent enough to "go out into the world" and I believe I did that. I incorporated the changes suggested by both of my reps, the Crown Prince, and my mentor early last week. Thursday night (late) I emailed the final draft to everyone. I woke up Saturday morning to find a glowing email from my mentor. It serioulsy made my day and freed me up to enjoy the weekend with my mother and niece who were visiting from the Bay Area. They came into town Saturday afternoon and we hit the ground running.

My niece is 11-years-old and she can shop with the best of them. She had a list in her messenger bag and she was determined to purchase all of her items in order of importance. A new purse was number one, clear lip gloss was number six. See what I'm saying? We got home about 11 p.m. and I checked my email to find very happy messages from both my agent and manager. I made one final change (ear-splitting needed two t's) then I sent it back out. I also sent along the prologue for THE LAST KING as that extra, emotional something. So, there you have it. I have a spec epsiode of a procedural drama, a character driven drama, an original pilot, a short story, novel prologue, and a script for a 30-minute short film. So, again, I've done my part. Now I step away and let what happens happen. No stressing, no second-guessing people I don't know, no allowing decisions made by random people determine to how I live or feel about my life. Tomorrow I start a new project and keep on trucking.

Saturday I'm off to a writing retreat where I hope to complete the last of the novel. I'd love to come back with a clean slate so I am going to buckle down and hit my page count goal every single day. Or, every single day -- I will try.

Anyway, funniest moment during the family visit. My mom got hit on relentlessly while she was here to the endless amusement of both me and my niece. Don't know what kind of perfume she was wearing but - DAMN. L.A. is notoriously bad to women of a certain hue and age but my mom busted all those stereotypes wide open. At the Grove, a man walked by, doubled back then asked her where she was going and HOW she was doing. Her response, "I'm fine, sir, just enjoying my daughter and my grandbaby." His response: "You know you're too young to have a daughter her age." On the "her age" he pointed right in my face. I was like, "Damn, why you gotta bust me out like that? What did I do to you?"

In the garment district, a thirtysomething man said, "Hey beautiful. You looking good for you age. Out here." The random punctuation of "out here" sent me over the top. I couldn't stop laughing. What the hell does that mean? My mother rolled her eyes and said, "I don't know if I like how you phrased that." Nobody did. The final sniper hit came from a gravel-voiced salt-and-pepper man who scanned her from head to toe, threw some seductive Alexander O"Neil slut-eye her way (remember O'Neil in his videos?) and said, "Don't act like you don't know me. Come on back here with your sassy little self." I thought my mom was going whip out a switchblade and cut his throat. He was just entirely too fresh for her tastes.

She kept walking and when he persisted she turned around and said, "Sir, I think you've mistaken me for somebody else. I'm not from here and I don't know you." His response: "Wanna know me now? Where you going?" Again, I f*cK*ng lost it. I wanted to shout, "Run, man, run," but I was laughing too hard. My niece kept squeezing my hand and trying not to laugh. Her response: "Why would I waste my time on a greasy man eating a greasy corndog?" Wait, I didn't tell you that part? Brothaman was working over a mustard-covered corndog the whole time. So, really, what is left to be said?

Until next time. . .

Labels: Family, Retreat, Writing Program