We need a little Christmas

I've been going through a rough patch lately. I thought there was no greater pain than losing a loved one, but I've discovered a new low...watching a loved one in pain and being completely unable to do anything to help. That is the worst. I know that tomorrow will be a new day. I know that it's always darkest before the dawn...but to steal from Auntie Mame, We need a little Christmas right this very minute. The closest I could get was this video from late night hottie Craig Ferguson.

I'm gonna let it shine

There is no good news today. I know because I'm struggling with a bout of insomnia and I was up all night monitoring the news. A plane fell off the radar over the Atlantic Ocean, a law-abiding doctor was murdered inside his church while his wife was singing in the choir, GM declared bankruptcy and the lovely Susan Boyle didn't win "Britain's Got Talent" and is now 'resting' in a London mental hospital.

I had no idea that I was a single woman living alone until Goldie died. Goldie turned 'me' into a 'we.' I still wake up every morning expecting to feel her leaping up onto the bed and walking up my body to stand on my head and meow until I showed signs of life. I miss her especially at night, and then again first thing in the morning. I think missing her sweet soul in the apartment is at the heart of my struggle with sleeplessness.

Last night I watched a marathon of "Golden Girls" hoping that a light comedy would put me to sleep. It was fun for awhile until I flipped over to MSNBC and discovered all the mayhem that was going on in the world. So I stayed up hoping that there would be a little bit of good news -- but it just never happened. The one thing I can tell you is that the ladies on the "Golden Girls" had a lot of sex. Who knew? I had no idea.

Tonight is Conan O'Brien's first night hosting the "Tonight Show." I was never a big fan of Jay Leno. I grew up with Johnny Carson, and I still think of him as the real host. I do think that Conan can be incredibly funny. The video above is one I remember as a personal favorite. I was surprised to learn it was one of his favorites too.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

It's that time of year...when the true cinemaphiles who live on the westside of Los Angeles trudge downtown every Wednesday night on or around the month of June to watch old movies in the old movie theatre district. It's called Last Remaining Seats and it's part of the annual fundraising drive for the Los Angeles Conservancy. This year, LRS is in its 23rd season. I've been going for 15 years. I've seen "Casablanca," "Double Indemnity," "Now Voyager," "North by Northwest," "Vertigo," "Pillow Talk," and "Some Like It Hot"...just to name a few.

The theatres open about an hour before the program starts, and you're free to wander around and take a look at the way movie-going used to be when it was pure glamour. Some years, I've sat in the balcony and some years I've been in the choice seats in the front of the house. When we arrived for "Now, Voyager" there were ushers in pillbox hats passing out tissues. The program for "Vertigo" included a fashion show. And last year prior to a screening of "Young Frankenstein," Mel Brooks and Cloris Leachman wandered out on stage and did a half-hour of shtick that left my sides aching from the laughter.

Tonight is opening night of LRS, and if you haven't already ordered your tickets for any of the movies on the program this season...you're out of luck. Tickets to LRS go on sale in April and are sold out within days. I see the same people at the shows every year. And it's delightful to go to the movies with them. They clap when their favorite actor's name appears in the credits, and laugh and talk back to their favorite dialogue. It's a festive and fun atmosphere that just can't be beat -- especially when the only other way to see these movies is on a DVR -- which is fun -- but we're talking BIG SCREEN, baby.

The movie on tap tonight is "The Sting." It's a personal favorite -- and really what's not to like -- with a double whammy of sexual thunder coming at you from Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Plus, it's a caper drama -- and I have a sweet tooth for a caper. In fact, I do believe "The Sting" is kind of the filmic grandfather of the "Ocean's Eleven" films starring the delicious bits of man candy known as George Clooney and Brad Pitt. Yes, I did see the original starring Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin -- and they're not bad. Not bad at all.

I can hardly wait to see "The Sting" on the big screen...jealous?

There She Goes...

There she goes again. Our gal in Scotland, Susan Boyle, appeared on the semifinal round of Britain's Got Talent over the weekend and has been voted into the final round of the talent competition. Singing 'Memory' from the Andrew Lloyd Weber musical, Cats, she got off to a shaky start...and then finished big. Someone obviously helped her with her hair and make-up, and she was wearing a beautiful beaded dress. She's still our Susan. I couldn't be prouder if I had discovered her myself...

A cup of comfort and joy

For more than fifteen years I’ve judged how my day was going by how things looked when I got home each night. Most nights when I got home, Goldie would be curled into a tortoise shell donut of cat fur inside her fuzzy cat cup. She would stretch and yawn and look up at me with her laughing face, and I would say to myself, “Goldie is in her cup and all is right with the world.”

She was a stray cat that looked like all the others in the neighborhood when I first met her outside of my apartment in Echo Park. But Goldilocks, as she was to be called, was different. She had decided that I was hers. Despite the fact that I didn’t really like cats, and I was allergic to cats, she moved in with me, demanded food and started to love me. I can’t remember not being besotted with her.

Her two favorite foods were bacon, and Taco Bell. In her youth, she was a successful hunter. She liked to tee off and play with golf balls on the hardwood floor of my living room around Midnight every night. She liked to sit in the front window and watch the comings and goings at the end of the street. She didn’t mind flying across the country to Michigan to visit her relatives. She would arrive at my mom’s house, find her litter box, and settle in as if she’d lived there all her life. She actually preferred flying to driving in a car, because going to the airport meant that she wasn’t going to the vet. And she hated the vet.

She was diagnosed with carcinoma a year ago. At least, that was the vet’s best guess. She couldn’t get close enough to confirm what she thought was wrong, but all the symptoms were there. The vet sent me home with some ideas to keep Goldie comfortable, and a promise that when the time came, she would come to the house, rather than make Goldie ever visit the vet’s office again.

I thought of the last year of Goldie’s life as a bonus. I knew our time together was limited, and so I tried to enjoy it as much as possible. I counted myself lucky every time she wrestled a toy mouse on top of her tissue paper or nibbled on the plants in the garden.

At the beginning of May, just after a glorious Sunday when we both spent the day out on the patio planting, Goldie took a turn for the worse. And while she was full of courage, the disease was finally catching up with her. Last Friday, I had to make the most awful decision.

She was so sick that she hadn’t been able to sleep in her cup for a week. After she was sedated, we put her in her cup. And that is where Goldie was put to sleep. The familiar sight of her luxurious fur curled into a cat donut was a great relief to me. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. I knew I had made the right decision, but I miss her so very much. She was my constant companion, confidante, and best friend.

Goldie is in her cup, and all is right in her world. Mine will never be the same.

Tears in Heaven

All creatures bright and beautiful.

All creatures great and small.

All creatures wise and wonderful.

The Lord God made them all.

-Cecil Frances Alexander

Glamorpuss

Midge the one-eyed cat from Yorkshire has a diva attidude now that the film she calls 'her star vehicle' is making its debut at the Canne Film Festival. Midge's owner Martin Humphreys jogs around his village and one time, Midge joined him. Martin began to notice that whenever he started to speed up, so did Midge. His fat little pussycat never let him pass her! So Martin decided it was time for a grudge match. He made a documentary about their ultimate race for $2,000, and entered it into the Cannes Film Festival and it was accepted. Just like that! Midge has decided to stay home and be attended by servants while Martin attends the festival. C'est la vie!