Author Archives: arlynnpresser

December 20, 2011

yo, shortie, it’s yo birthday we gonna party like . . .

By arlynnpresser

a birthday alone is pretty difficult for most people.  facebook makes you feel a lot like you’re not alone because it shoots out reminders every day of all the friends who are having birthdays.  i try to send a message to the birthday boy or girl.  yo, shortie, it’s your birthday! 

long before facebook, i had a birthday that seemed like it was going to be one of those depressing solitary experiences.  i had moved out of the patrick’s house when i was just shy of fifteen, i had somehow graduated from college (sideswiping that high school degree) and had gotten into law school.  i applied to northwestern law school because i knew how to get there from the train station.  

i moved into the lawson ymca four blocks from northwestern law school. my world was in between the two buildings. the first night i stayed at the lawson a man jumped out of a window and killed himself. it happened frequently during the three years i lived there.

 i worked as a research assistant for dick speidel, my contracts professor.  margie worked as a research assistant as well and although she didn’t know me very well, she knew when my birthday came up and she took me to lunch.  i am still grateful to her.  do you have someone on your facebook friendship list who needs to be taken to lunch for their birthday?

we lost track of each other after law school graduation but we’re facebook friends.  she’s a fancy schmancy professor at the university of oregon law school.  i’m so damned impressed!!! 

and then i had a legal question. . . .

a little while after lunch, the sun came up in portland and it was time for me to say goodbye to f2fb friend #281–i am so glad i got a chance to hear the second quarter has gone well for this gal!!

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December 19, 2011

absinthe, sweater trees, and the curious habits of seattle

By arlynnpresser

justin and i left vancouver and got on a bus for a four hour ride to seattle, one hour of which was spent at customs.  i have learned my lessons with customs folks.  i pretend i don’t understand english. . . or any other language. 

in seattle we stayed at the arctic club on third street.  immediately, viktor enticed justin with an absinthe.  prepared in the czech manner because the french manner is so . . . yesterday.

seattle are very solicitious of nature.  for instance, they wrap their trees in brightly colored sweaters.  i can’t imagine how they get the trees to settle down for this since it’s awfully hard to get a three year old to let you  put a sweater on them.  click on the x to see the lovely sweatertress!

 

this seemed like such a strange custom that i thought perhaps i was the one drinking absinthe, but no it was justin who didn’t really like the taste but appreciated the opportunity to have the medicinal effects of wormwood.

the next morning, f2fb friend #280 george moffat.  i hadn’t seen george since high school but there is something–perhaps it is in the nature of how our eyes deteriorate or our judgments soften–that made me think that not only had he not aged a whit but he had become more handsome.  he has settled into seattle and was doing some christmas shopping for his lovely wife and three daughters.  i had to promise to not write down what they’re getting. 

we talked about how lucky we are that we were even able to get together.  so many friends disperse after high school and before facebook came along if you decided you really did want to see a friend you had lost track of, you had to find their parents or relatives.  a lot of private detective work.  facebook is good that way.  george and me–unfortunately, the picture is like a christmas present:  you have to open it!

then i had to say goodbye both to my dad and to george–off to portland on an amtrak for me while justin would travel to tallahassee and then on to hawaii. 

i really appreciated seeing george, but i also really appreciated having some time with my father.  in february, it hadn’t gone well.  and i had worried that my last memory of him would be him saying “you’re a superconman and you’re trying to destroy me!”  now my last memory of him is watching him get into a cab and the man next to me asking me if i wanted to do a good deed for the day by giving him five bucks.

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December 17, 2011

raven of the northwest on my last big trip of the f2fb year!

By arlynnpresser

it’s nearly the end of this resolution, i’m getting so close and yet so many friends i’ll probably never meet.  and that makes me wonder about whether i’m really friends with them.  my last major flight was yesterday morning and f2fb friend #278 rob woolson was so kind as to call me and take me to the airport.  i was a bit cranky but he was determined. 

in vancouver, my father justin (f2fb friend #30) was waiting.  he had spent the previous day with bruce byfield (f2fb friend #279).  justin’s wife barbara had been quite concerned that justin not be required to sleep in a hovel so instead of the vancouver ymca we went to the fairmont hotel where i ran into the biggest celebrity in the entire world!!!

f2fb friend #279 bruce byfield wrote his dissertation on fritz leiber, my grandfather, who was a science fiction writer.  bruce writes mostly about open source software, that is to say, software that is free to users and exists somewhat outside of the range of copyright law.  he is a great fan of the northwest’s “first nations” peoples and he wears an enormous copper bracelet which is engraved with a description of the famous story of raven.

it was delightful to put a face to a friendship!  and this morning justin and i have to dash for the bus stop where we pick up the three hour amtrak cascade to seattle!

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December 13, 2011

i hope my mom accepts my friendship request

By arlynnpresser

i thought about my two moms yesterday.  it’s near christmas.  i worry about whether i’m a good mom to my boys.  i watched an episode of modern family.  i get a little sentimental.

so i checked.  yes, my mom is on facebook.  my biological mom.

this picture was probably taken around the time my mother and i had contact with each other. she would have been about my age. now she would be in her early seventies

 

my biological mom aleta and her then-husband my biological father justin put me up for adoption just before i turned three years old.  i was adopted by the patrick family.  the patricks were told by the adoption agency caseworker that it was best to change my name (from arlynn to lynn) and to try to erase all memories of my relationship with my biological parents.  when i finally went to live with the patricks i wasn’t allowed to take my clothes or even my favorite stuffed kitten.  i obviously knew i had been adopted but nothing else beyond that bare fact.  in fact, when i saw my birth certificate for the first time,  i was startled to realize that the state of illinois had switched the names of my parents.

these days people are more inclined to use “open” adoption or to give the child a sense of whatever heritage or history there is.

mrs. patrick was over forty when i came into the patrick family.

 

i left the patricks when i was just shy of fifteen and entered into the illinois foster system.  ultimately i went to college and law school.  after law school, i hired a private investigator to locate my biological parents.  it took him roughly a month to find my father justin (who is my facebook friend) and it took him roughly another month to locate my mother because she had remarried and divorced a second time, retaining her second husband’s last name.

after a few years, i lost track of my mom aleta.  i’ve tried phone books, google searches, directory assistance a few times over the years but she has seemed lost to me forever.  this morning, it took me less than twenty seconds to find her on facebook.  i’ve sent a friendship request.  we’ll see what happens.  so far she has “ignored” the request.

yesterday, i also got a chance to get a “two-fer” on my facebook new year’s resolution.  i am friends with liza roche who works for the sun-times media group.  i first met her at the winnetka rotary club.

liza roche is my f2fb friend #276!

liza is also the editor of the winnetka talk newspaper.  the winnetka talk is one of many chicago area pioneer press papers owned by the sun-times.

f2fb friend #277 has three stories and lots of cubicles inside.

 

i saw both friends at the pioneer press offices.  in the days before the internet, a newspaper often had a “bullpen” of reporters working together.  these days,  a reporter might work from home or from the table next to you at starbucks or caribou coffee.

 

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December 11, 2011

being a minority on the most segregated day of the week

By arlynnpresser

i’m a white chick in america.  most of the places i go to i am the same color as most of the people around me.  there might or might not be asians, blacks, hispanics where i’m at but i’m seldom in a situation in which i’m the ONLY white woman in the joint.  this morning was a little bit of the strange.

meeting (so far) 275 facebook friends in person, i’ve learned a lot about how everyone struggles with or finds comfort with their faith.  this year, i’ve been to churches and synagogues, i’ve had long conversations with people of faith and people who profess no faith whatsoever.  i have had a laying on of hands in both the reiki and the christian tradition.  i have meditated with friends, prayed with others. i have been forgiven for past wrongs by facebook friends, and i’ve come to know peace in my relations with some facebook friends.  i have surprised by traditions i have i been shown.  i know facebook friends have prayed for me.

when i was growing up, my adoptive mother mrs. patrick tunneled towards a notion that i was a partner to satan.  not just possessed, because possessed would sort of mean that i still existed as a great daughter but i was being held captive by evil and you want to find the exorcist who will tease that satan out of your kid.  no, no, this notion was that me and satan–well, we had a lock on that fall from grace stuff. we were entrepreneurs.  we were doing a road trip on the saved.

this notion became a certainty for her and i came to believe she would kill me. . . and would regard killing me as doing good for the world.  as soon as i reached that conclusion about her, i knew i had to get out of the patrick household.  which i did when i was just shy of fifteen.  i am fifty one years old and it is still tough to think about God and tough to think about my adoptive mom.

my f2fb friend #275 dave gotaas doesn’t struggle in the same way.  his grandparents were missionaries in what was the belgian congo (present day democratic republic of the congo) and his parents were missionaries in south america until dave was in eighth grade.  the family then came to live in wilmette and dave’s father took over the winnetka bible church.  dave is sure of his faith but sometimes unsure about how the world around him can reject God.

i met dave because we're both in rotary club. he and his wife sally live in northfield. sally was busy being a hostess at their home church in lake forest so she couldn't join us

i got home from new york city late last night and frankly was in no mood to get up early and drive to the south woodlawn neighborhood of chicago for a church service.  but i was intrigued by the fact that dave often visits other churches and that this one is the chicago church he most admires.  in fact, he had introduced me to dr. byron t. brazier seniors and junior a few years ago at a rotary meeting. dave is a church service connoisseur.

we pulled into the parking lot at 63rd and south dorchester and dave’s pick up truck was pretty much the wreck of the yard (no disrespect, dave!)  also, i realized that although dave was wearing a nice enough suit and i was wearing the arlynn uniform of black skirt, sweater, and boots, we were horrifically underdressed.  i have been told by many pastors that God doesn’t care how you dress on sundays.  that might be true, but the God the parishioners were coming to see at the apostolic church was a God they wanted to impress, they wanted to honor, they wanted to show respect to.  and they were respecting each other by wearing a hat, a corsage, a bespoke suit.  as someone who saw parents at new trier graduation wearing “i’m with stupid” t-shirts and jeans. . . i was impressed.

as we walked from the parking lot (well, one of four parking lots surrounding the church), every single person greeted me and dave with a “praise the Lord” or “praise God”. . . .

in the movie crocodile dundee, mick dundee (played by paul hogan) greets every new yorker he passes with a "g'day!" which proves impossible as he walks along times square. there's just too many people to greet and it lightheartedly points out the difference between a rural australian and a tough american city. i sort of felt this in reverse at the apostolic church. so many people were greeting me and i didn't know how to maintain eye contact and respond quickly. . .

i was a little intimidated, as we took our seats, because dave and i were the only white people in the sanctuary which was filling up rapidly.   a half hour before the service started there were five hundred people.  then eight hundred, then a thousand people ready to worship together as a family.  it has been said that sunday is the most segregated day of the week, with americans dividing themselves into “black churches”, “white churches”, “korean churches”. . . i guess that’s probably true.  i don’t see many blacks, hispanics or asians at my catholic church.

i really felt the presence of God.  in the singing.  in the praising.  in the hands held up to receive the blessings of God.  people interrupting each other in their rush to praise Jesus and to reinforce rev. byron brazier’s message.  i counted thirty five people who were received at the pulpit because they had been baptized and then had made the decision to join the church.  at the end of the service, brazier asked if anybody wanted to come into the family of God, to be baptized, to have the peace of the love of God.  eight people walked up to the pulpit, three of them children.  much praise was given.

the sanctuary has an interesting feature:  set into the wall behind the pulpit is a built-in tub (kind of like a jacuzzi) about twenty feet above the three choir rows.  brazier finished the service and then he donned a white robe and, with an assistant similarly enrobed, he entered the tub from a door i couldn’t see.  the eight people, one by one, came out to be immersed in the water.  they had changed their clothes into white robes with white caps to protect their hair.  water spilled over onto a retaining wall.  people clapped and gave praise.  and then prayed for the next and newest baptimist.  i wanted, with every fiber of my being to be baptized.  p.s. i didn’t take any pictures because i would consider that to be sacrilegious but if you want to see the inside of the sanctuary, go to the church website at http://www.acog-chicago.org

and why didn’t i get baptized?  why didn’t i go?  if i felt like i could, why didn’t i?  part of it, i was the only white chick.  i didn’t want to draw attention (more attention) to myself.

but also, damn, the shower caps, the white robes, i’m one of those gals whose priests just put a teeny drop of holy water on you. . . no dunking!

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December 11, 2011

how to work the runway–lessons in being a supermodel

By arlynnpresser

sometimes i travel a long way to see a facebook friend and f2fb friend #274 victoria stone-grace traveled to visit me!  she and her friend marcus drove three hours from northampton, massachusetts to see me in new york before i headed back to winnetka.  i hadn’t seen tory in such a long time that i was worried i wouldn’t recognize her.  but then i saw a tall, cool, sophisticated gal amidst the earnest tourists, somberly dressed natives and, oh, yes, the santas.

new york city was host to a santa run and so a quarter of the people in midtown manhattan were dressed as either santa, a sexy santa, or an elf. i was dressed as a midwestern middle aged lady who lives out of a suitcase

 

then i saw a long, tall, sophisticated drink of a lady.  with a dude in a striped sweater.  tory grace had ARRIVED!  tory is my younger son’s eastman’s age, she’s a sophomore at smith college and she had moved with her family from winnetka when she was in seventh grade to live in texas.  i am facebook friends with both her and her brother alex.  up until a few months ago, alex lived in chicago and i sort of assumed i would get to see him when my schedule lightened up a bit.  then he was transferred by his company to mexico city.  i’ve already been on a one day trip to mexico city and know i won’t get to see him before the new year–

tory told me a curious story that forms one of her most vivid memories of me:  she and eastman were in fourth grade and had both been sentenced to detention.  as we all know, detention goes on your permanent record and can bar you from later success in life.  when i came to pick up eastman, i offered tory a ride home.  she was very upset thinking that she was now on the fast track to failuretown.  i told her no worries.

“you’re tall, beautiful, and you’re going to be a supermodel when you grow up,”  i said.  “and i might as well teach you how to walk like a supermodel right now so you’ll be ready when your big break comes.”

in order to walk like a supermodel, cross your right foot over your left leg so that it's actually to the left of that leg. then pull your left leg out from behind your right leg and place your right foot to the left of your left leg. this method is approved by giselle!

 

apparently, tory and i practiced supermodel walking up and down the hallway of crow island school until somebody told us to go home.  it was with a heavy heart that i confessed to tory that i am not, and have never been, a supermodel.  but that’s okay, because tory is a art history, philosophy and museum management triple threat major.  she can be a supermodel whenever she chooses to be.

then i realized i had to get to the airport.  i had f2fb friend #275 dave gotaas taking me to the apostolic church of God at eight a.m. the next morning.  i had to rush.  i asked tory and her friend what they were planning to do since they were already in new york.  they said they were going to the museum of modern art.  i did something that i could NEVER have done january first of this year. . .

 

thank you so much victoria stone-grace for coming to see me in new york and being part of my new year’s resolution!!!  and if you decide on that supermodel thing, i’m happy to give you a refresher course on the walk. . .

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December 10, 2011

you’re going to make it after all!

By arlynnpresser

f2fb friend #273 prescott seymour and i could have met at laguardia on thursday evening.  we were coming in at the same time–he from orlando and me from chicago.  we both saw the taxi line.  i stayed, he fled.  we didn’t see each other but i had come to new york specifically to see him.  it would have to wait until friday night.

i’m not good at uncertainty and when i don’t know exactly what i’m doing and what’s going to happen, i get extremely nervous.  prescott is a little more relaxed about time and he should be–he has just returned from a two year journey of being a performer on the disney cruise lines.  he’s been all over the world, living in a ship, doing thirteen shows a week, and always always always in character. . ..

i was at cinderella's castle and told the disney actress she did a great job of being cinderella. she blinked and said "and you do a GREAT job of being you!" those are very very wise words. but prescott says being on a disney cruise ship is like that. always maintain character, so if someone says "you were great in peter pan last night" you say "that wasn't me, peter pan came from neverland!" prescott does a great job of being a lot of people..

so while i was waiting to hear from prescott i couldn’t get motivated.  all of new york outside my hotel and i couldn’t go out.  and when i did i found it very overwhelming.  i can see why new yorkers get a reputation for being brusque and quite possibly a bit, well, pushy.  but they have to be or else they would be swept away and find themselves unexpectedly bobbing along in the hudson river.   but i became a bit of a new yorker and found it too much–especially since i was convinced that prescott was going to flake out on me.  i’ve had entirely too much of that in this project. . .
but maybe i’m the flakey one?
in any event, i wiped off the mascara and met prescott and eric at the rockefeller center.  it was a friday night and every tourist had decided that looking at the tree was a great idea.  regular new yorkers were heading for the exit doors.
prescott has four siblings–cory russ rickerson, christi russ, deb, charlie and tom seymour.  the seymour-russ-rickersons live in alaska, colorado, illinois and new york.  i have seen them all this year.  i hadn’t known much about prescott because we ordinarily see each other at parties and you can’t really get to know how charming and great someone is until you have some face time with them.  this trip was definitely worth it because i’ve come to see prescott that way!  (and eric too)  and they went all mary tyler moore on me!
so the next time i see prescott and eric will be in chicago.  we’ll be playing whirlyball, we won’t have much time to catch up, but prescott is not going to be “oh, the younger brother who’s an actor” and eric isn’t going to be “the boyfriend of the younger brother who’s an actor”. . . and we’re going to totally rule the whirly ball court!

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December 8, 2011

i’m feeling pretty alec baldwin myself today

By arlynnpresser

last night, i was feeling all cinderella–i was invited by f2fb friend #272 jessica zweig to a cheekychicago.com party at the stylish oak street shop calypso.  cheeky chicago is a woman’s guide to the city and, according to the website, a cheeky chick is “fun, fabulous, and fierce. . . . chic, intelligent and in-the-know.”  i needed more than a fairy godmother to transform me, but i put on the arlynn uniform of black skirt, black sweater and headed downtown.

i wasn’t sure how i knew jessica.  i wasn’t even sure if i’d recognize her.  but meeting new people doesn’t phase jessica–every month she’s doing what i’ve been doing this year, meeting facebook friends.  she has over 2900 but she is very careful about whose friendship requests she accepts:  she accepts only cheeky chicks (although our one mutual friend is f2fb friend #239 jim levin and i just don’t see him that way).  she invites her friends to parties that showcase what’s best about the city:  this evening it was a resort wear shop–there was a cupcake buffet and champagne that was only out-sparkled by the conversations of jessica’s friends.

jessica is adorable, beautiful and quick to welcome me with a big hug! i had such a wonderful time and i can't wait for cheekychicago.com's january event!

but every cinderella has to wake up by the cold fireplace.  which i literally did.  the duraflame box was empty, it was six o’clock, and i knew that i am going to have an alec baldwin day.

mr. baldwin got thrown off an american airlines flight yesterday--perhaps he wasn't carrying his capital one credit card! what happens with his miles? he blames 9/11. sort of.

i’m flying today.  at the beginning of the year, just this statement alone would scare me.  plane crashes.  that’s what i worried about.  these days there’s so much more.  after more than forty flights (i miscounted at 39 a few days ago) this year alone in my quest to meet all my facebook friends by the end of the year, i can honestly say that alec baldwin is right:  the airlines have sucked every possible pleasure out of the flying experience.  and they are aided by t.s.a. who makes even six year olds and eighty five year old grandmothers feel like they are doing a perp walk.

i will be manhandled.  i will have some gal with blue latex gloves feel me up.  i’ll have someone snap at me with disdain.  oh, wait, mr. baldwin didn’t have to go through that because he travels first class.

and at my seat, the porcine man to my right will take over the armrests while the woman on my left will cough up weird green matter.  then the flight attendant will tell me i can’t put my bag here, can’t put my bag there, can’t leave my window open, and that tray table better stay up there even if it’s broken.  of course, in first class there’s a little more room and the flight attendants put your bags away for you and ask you if they can take your coat as well.  guess alec ain’t having none of that!

and then me and my fellow passengers will sit at the gate for half an hour.   and the captain will say we’re leaving in fifteen and we’ll all know he’s lying.  you never want to believe your captain is lying.  at least in first class they get a drink.  my preflight beer will have worn off and nobody is allowed to use the bathroom whether we slam the door or close it very very gently.  uh, mr. baldwin?

but i’m doing this because this year i made a new year’s resolution to meet my facebook friends.  thank you, f2fb friend jessica zweig for giving me a hug and telling me that i can finish this!!!!

p.s. mr. baldwin wrote an apology to his fellow passengers that you can read right here:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alec-baldwin/american-airlines-service-_b_1135201.html?ref=entertainment&ir=Entertainment

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December 7, 2011

when young musicians play scelsi . . .

By arlynnpresser

at seven fifteen, f2fb friend #271 sheryl nussbaum and her crew were expecting one hundred preteen musicians.  it was the final rehearsal before the blowout, warmly anticipated winter festival 2011.  the gym at washburne school had been converted into a concert space for two orchestras and two choirs.  sheryl directs the orchestras, amy is in charge of the choirs.  they are assisted by aj keller and ben nadel.  and me? i was put to work guarding the halls and telling kids they couldn’t just throw their backpacks down on the floor and run, they had to put them next to the wall so as to not create a fire hazard.

“USE YOUR TEACHER VOICE!”  sheryl prescribed.  i think i have more of a “random adult who hopes that you don’t go home and tell your parents that i yelled at you and then i get sued” voice.

after the musicians were corraled into place, the sixth grade musicians tuned their instruments.  it was determined that fully four had lost their music–one young man his attention span, cello bridge AND his music.  nonetheless, sheryl was determined they should start with the first two pieces in the program.

i complimented the students--i said that generally natura renovatur by giaconta scelsi is one of the twentieth century's most difficult discordant pieces. turns out they were playing deck the halls.

i have always been on the other side of the winter festival.  and the jazzfest.  and spring serenade.  and all the different concerts that a parent attends during an average year.  it looked to me always that there was a little disorganization, as if, well, couldn’t the teachers get these kids to PAY ATTENTION!?  at new trier high school, where most of these kids will go and where my two sons played, there was discipline and determination, perfection, well fitted tuxedos and twenty dollar c.d.’s sold out in the lobby after a performance. there’s the solicitations for “angel investors” in the program and there’s trips to national competitions where new trier kicks musical butt.

for many of sheryl’s kids in fifth through eighth grade, this will be the last year that they can participate in a school music experience and not have their egos destroyed.  so she gets her student teacher to fix the bridge on the cello, she tells the kids who have lost their music that they need to find someone who does have music and make a copy in the principal’s office.  she sighs, cajols, begs, pleads, and most of all, leads.  this is seven thirty in the morning and by seven thirty this evening, she will have a winter festival with parents brushing away the tears as they watch their little bertrams and hermiones.  sheryl has a very long day ahead of her.

this morning, the bertrams and hermiones are a yammering, whispering, kicking, arguing, dithering, daydreaming horde.  if i were sheryl, i know how i’d deal with it all:

tonight i finally meet jessica zweig of cheekychicago.com and i pack for new york. . . as always i will be accompanied by f2fb friend #60 william clark who may be dead but he’s still good company!

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December 7, 2011

the academy award goes to . . . .

By arlynnpresser

i was quite nervous and well i should be:  the academy awards of chicago.  or rather, the Best of the Midwest Awards night!!!!!!  notice the caps, i don’t usually roll that way with caps.

this is when everybody in chicago’s independent movie scene gets together for awards and festivities.  my f2fb friend #270 mike mcnamara had invited me!!!!  to be fair, he had also invited everybody else in chicago, including his 4551 friends.  4550 plus me.

dennis farina was a celebrity "confirmed attendee" and he was up for best actor for "last rites of joe may"

mike and i became facebook friends when i first got on facebook when the network was being opened up to the general public in 2006.  we started with five friends and then five friends more.

mike once was in a movie with one of my sons.  i knew him personally.  but now i don’t.  mike is the director of the midwest independent film festival.  he’s a big deal. i’m not.

when i lived in chicago in the early 1980's rockit was not in a good neighborhood. i lived at the lawson ymca which was most definitely not in a good neighborhood. i don't remember rockit being here but i'll bet it was a beer and a shot place back then.

murphy my taxi driver dropped me off.  he told me i should have worn the orange ball gown.  instead, i wore a black skirt and a black sweater.  such a daring choice, miss allegra????

but it was good because i was by myself.  my galpal and my backup galpal had both cancelled.  i was on my own.  and i suck at walking into a party by myself.

yes, i paid fifty dollars to get into the party.  yes, i managed to get a drink at the bar.  really, i should get combat pay for that.  i figured out which guy was mike mcnamara (after a few false starts that were as much of an embarrassment to others as to myself) and yes, i shook hands with mike and just started to say “i’m arlynn presser and i have this new year’s resolution to meet all my. . .”

and he was gone.  sucked into the party vortex.  murphy texted me.  the early text.  meant to establish that i’m okay.  instead, i texted back.  let’s go home.  i did it.  i shook hands.  but i didn’t get a picture.  a video. or even a look that said “oh, yeah, i know who you are.”

murphy said no worries.

“that facebook thing is like an address book,”  he said.  “sometimes it’s so long you don’t remember why you put that girl’s name down.”

he dropped me off but not before a quick stop at the liquor store.  i put on my orange gown.  my little orange maribou boa.  i sat in front of the living room fireplace and drank champagne.

and the award for best portrayal of arlynn presser in a calendar year goes to . . . arlynn presser. we are all academy award winners of our own lives!

and then i remembered murphy’s last words:  “remember, you gotta be up at seven thirty for those kids in the orchestra.  ‘member?”

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