Throwback Thursday: Remington Steele and I

In true 40s gumshoe style, Laura often donned a fedora.

Try this for a deep dark secret… The great detective Remington Steele? I’ve been sleeping with him.   

Well, not in the way you think.  I’ve just been playing the DVDs of the 1980s detective romantic comedy in order to try to fall asleep.  It has been working really well for me with none of the weird side effects of Ambien.  There is something incredibly soothing about knowing that Remington and Laura are on the case. No matter what, they will eventually figure out a mystery, toss in a lot of clever quips and then more likely than not, end up in a clinch.

For Throwback Thursday, I thought I would re-visit one of my favorite shows from a long, long time ago.  This is kind of the “at large” stuff I had in mind when I named this blog.  

He is so soothing. 

Remington Steele premiered so long ago I was still in college.  It starred a then-unknown baby-faced Pierce Brosnan as the title character and the smart, independent, beautiful and incredibly agile Stephanie Zimbalist as Laura Holt, the woman who invented the man.  The show was an instant hit among my crowd.  At the time, I thought we were watching it for the cute boys, but as I watch the show now, 30 years later, I realize the great appeal of the show was the way it matched the zeitgeist of the moment.

Laura Holt invents Remington Steele because no one will hire a female private investigator.  As feminists-in-training at a Catholic women’s college in the rolling hills of southwestern Pennsylvania, we were convinced we could do any job a man could and at least as well.  We took for granted the idea of women in leadership roles since we were taught by nuns and ex-nuns (and men willing to work for nuns and ex-nuns.)  

  

The college’s publicity materials referred to us as “Woman-centered Centered-women.”  We lived up to the woman-centered part, though centered-womanhood was still a few years off for most of us.

Grant and Hepburn for the 80s.

The show cleverly paid homage to 30s and 40s screwball comedies and mysteries like The Thin Man or pretty much anything with Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn.  It was stylish and clever, an hour-long mix of light-hearted mystery, comedy and romance where the mystery-solving and romance were almost entirely on the woman’s terms.   To this day, I don’t think there has been a TV romance where the woman unapologetically runs the business and the relationship.  Can you think of one?

We loved Laura because she was one of the few characters on television who was her own boss.  Her “decidedly masculine superior” was just a bunch of empty suits and never-worn shoes in a hotel room.  She operated in a traditionally man’s world by her own rules and that’s what we were being prepared to do.  She opened a detective agency with her pal Murphy Michaels (James Read) and had a secretary named Bernice Foxe (Janet DeMay) who was a bit of a retired party girl.

Handsome stranger slips into Remington's shoes and Laura is not pleased

In the first episode a mysterious man shows up and literally slips into the shoes of Remington Steele.  He spends the rest of 4 seasons applying his "eclectic" skills to detective work, trying to earn Laura’s trust and falling in love with an impossible woman he can’t resist.  Meanwhile Laura spends 4 years yelling at him, demanding to know his real name and insisting that while they can snog all they like, they will draw the line at the bedroom.  Sounds like Kate and Cary, doesn’t it? (Laura even uses the name Tracy Lord when she goes under cover, a nod to Hepburn’s character in The Philadelphia Story)

I started watching the Remington Steele DVDs again thinking that it would be a soothing nostalgic show to watch while trying to fall asleep. Today’s procedurals make me anxious and grossed out, which is not helpful when one is trying to relax.  There is too much gore and explicit violence against women by both the criminals and the macho males going around shooting everything in NCIS or CSI or SVU or even shows with actual characters in the name like Castle. In an interview, Stephanie Zimbalist says their motto was “The blood isn’t real on Remington Steele.”  And thank goodness.

Armed with trophies, vases and 2x4s

Back in the days of Steele, there was a running joke about never knowing where the agency’s lone gun was because they rarely used it. Finding bullets for it was the second problem. Remington regularly makes a point that he hates the things.   There is plenty of running after crooks in the show, but rarely with firearms.  Almost always, Remington, Laura and Murphy have a vase, a trophy or a 2x4 conveniently at hand to absurdly conk their foes in the back of the neck with.  Nobody really gets hurt, just knocked out temporarily.  I find that soothing when I am trying to fall asleep. And it’s much less noisy than all of today’s gunfire.

Unlike a lot of shows from the 80s, Remington Steele holds up fairly well visually.  There was careful attention to details as the designers tried to evoke the 30s and 40s. Pierce’s British/Irish accent has a certain Cary Grant cadence while Stephanie does a great job imitating that studio-trained Englishy accent that actors used in old movies.

Big 80s hair, shoulder pads and Jane Fonda workout garments are kept to a minimum.  Steele’s apartment is decorated as homage to art deco style with a few framed movie posters to reinforce the call-backs to the period.  In the second season, the agency acquires an old Austin to chase suspects with when the limo seems too flashy.

Annoying Carole Little for St Tropez West dress

Mercifully, Laura’s hair is worn long and carefully pulled away from her face in 40s styles.  Even when she wears a pony tail, there is no scrunchy in sight. Many of her suits have the broad shoulder jacket with straight skirt to match the hairstyle.  (Though there are a few “sporty separates” supplied by Carole Little for St Tropez West that annoy me) Remington just wanders around with thick dark hair that's perfectly coiffed or tousled artistically on his forehead while modeling impeccably tailored suits, tuxes and the occasional riding breeches.  Beyond the plots and the non-graphic violence, even the clothes are soothing.

The plots are usually stolen from Agatha Christie stories or Hitchcock films whether the reference is Psycho, Rear Window or The Trouble with Harry all mixed up with a dollop of Preston Sturges.  Suspend your disbelief and go along for the ride because this is meant to be fun.  “Reality” is so overrated.

Long before the IMDB, Remington was a vintage movie buff who was always comparing their case to some scene in those old caper movies.  I had no idea what he was talking about then, but 30 years later, I have caught up with Remington’s references and they are much more fun now that I’ve actually seen the old movie.

 

Under cover tour guides

It’s amusing to catch James Bond references in the stunts or the score knowing in hindsight that Pierce Brosnan would eventually play the role.  The number of museum break-ins Laura and Remington pull off surely inspired him to star in a remake of The Thomas Crown Affair

I thought that first season was perfect.  But the powers-that-be decided that there was “character clutter” and they couldn’t find enough for Miss Foxe and Murphy to do. Kindly, they freed the actors to go do other shows while consolidating both characters into one for the rest of the series. 

At least Murphy and "Miss Wolf" got sandwiches.

I can understand why they did that, but I have never been able to forgive them for replacing the gorgeous James Read and the world-wise Janet DeMay with Doris Roberts as Mildred Krebs.  Mildred arrives at the Steele agency as a member of the IRS Fraud Squad investigating why Remington Steele didn’t file income tax returns.  She spends the rest of the series as a comic relief sidekick.

Even Doctor Who tries to silence Mildred Krebs.

I am sure Doris Roberts is a perfectly lovely person, but when the series first aired, I had no need of that clueless old fuddy-duddy wasting my time in this show when it could have been the smart, young and attractive Bernice and Murph.  To my disbelief, I looked Doris up on the IMDB and learned that she was just a year older than I am now when she took that role.  OMG! Is that how people see me?  Or is 52 the new 42?  (Oh please let it be the latter)

At 52, I do have a very different perspective on the Laura/Steele relationship than I had in my 20s.  In those days, Laura made perfect sense to me.  She was independent and didn’t need a man around and was frustrated with her own weakness falling in love with a man she knew couldn’t possibly be good for her. She constantly tested him and accused him of not being trustworthy.  She always assumed the worst of Remington despite the fact that he stayed around no matter how badly she treated him. 

Laura, put the phone down and listen to him!

I didn’t see any of that in my 20s.  Because that was pretty much how I was operating.  (Gee, how did I end up a spinsta?) Now I want to shake both Laura and my 20-something self and explain a few things.  I would suggest that there are men who are human and have feelings. Not every single one of them wants to oppress women in every possible way.  I want them to know that they are sabotaging themselves by making assumptions rather than asking questions and listening carefully. 

I have so much sympathy for the lost character of Remington who never had a real home and family, who did what he had to in order to survive and who loves this impatient, proud, pain-in-the-ass of a woman that somehow feels like the first safe home he has known. 

It’s kind of amazing to me the way visiting characters I adored 30 years ago have given me a window to see who I was at the time.

So I am recommending this show that is apparently much more than a show to me.  It is a time-capsule of my own early adulthood as well as an entertaining series that holds up well because it doesn’t take itself too seriously, though it wears its heart on its perfectly tailored sleeve.   Or the occasional Laura Ashley dress.

A London adventure.

 

 There are some really gorgeous episodes because they somehow had the budget to film in Mexico, England, Ireland, and around the Mediterranean.  (It was extremely difficult to film Los Angeles locations during the 84 Olympics, so they just went to Europe)

Cassandra Harris guests as her husband's old girlfriends.

Pierce Brosnan’s first wife Cassandra Harris wanders in as a couple of different old girlfriends of Remington’s.  Don’t watch too closely or you will start to obsess (as I do) about whether her characters Anna and Felicia were twins or just doppelgangers.  Knowing Cassandra died a few years later of ovarian cancer makes her scenes with Pierce bittersweet.

 

Efrem Zimbalist Jr. as Remington's mentor, Daniel Chalmers

More satisfying are the appearances of Stephanie Zimbalist’s dad Efrem as an old con-man pal of Remington’s.  His rapport with Brosnan and the obvious fun he has playing opposite his daughter are delightful.

There are 22 episodes in each of the first 4 seasons.  To this day, my favorite episode is Vintage Steele in the first season where Laura and Remington investigate the disappearance and reappearance of an unidentified body. There are monks who have taken a vow of silence involved in this show, not to mention a very memorable game of Charades. And the kissing scene was good enough to appear in the opening credits for the next few seasons.

I can recommend the other 87 episodes in those first 4 seasons as well.  But then things went to hell.  NBC canceled the show.  Then it was announced that Pierce would be the next James Bond, so NBC un-canceled it and demanded 6 more hours.  Stephanie had already accepted another role too, so there was a lot of bumming going on as they shot that last season.  Most of the writing staff had left for new jobs as well, leaving those last few scripts in the hands of newbie writers and rather absent editors.

Upper Right: Jack Scalia as character clutter.

For some reason, the powers-that-be forgot about how they had gotten rid of  the first season’s “character clutter” and decided to add another character—another rival for Laura’s affections in the person of Jack Scalia as Tony Roselli.  None of us who loved the show can ever forgive them for that.  Those last 6 hours are excruciating to get through no matter how much we adore Laura and Remington.  No matter that Efrem Zimbalist shows up.  No matter that they shot in Mexico, London and a castle in Ireland.  Nothing could make up for Tony Roselli. 

So if you haven’t seen those last 6 hours, go ahead and watch to see how it ends, but really, the first 4 seasons are plenty.  And the last episode of the 4^th season is a good enough way to end the series. 

Season 4 Finale. It's all you need.

You can stream the first 3 seasons on HuluPlus and Amazon if you are looking for light entertainment or a bedtime sedative. If you catch up with my old pals Laura and Remington, let me know what you think.  Am I giving it too much credit because I am still in love?  Or is there something timeless there that you won’t find in other shows from the early 80s?  (I’m looking at you, Moonlighting)

Oh and be sure to watch all the way to the end for the MTM kitten’s take on the show.

 

What took People so long to figure this out?

The opening credits for Season One are probably burned into your brain, but just in case you missed them:

"Try this for a deep dark secret: The great detective Remington Steele... He doesn't exist. I invented him. Follow: I'd always loved excitement, so I studied and apprenticed, and put my name on an office. But absolutely no one knocked on my door. A female private investigator seemed so... feminine. So I invented a superior. A decidedly masculine superior. Suddenly there were cases around the block. It was working like a charm. Until the day he walked in, with his blue eyes and mysterious past. And before I knew it, he assumed Remington Steele's identity. Now I do the work, and he takes the bows. It's a dangerous way to live, but as long as people buy it, I can get the job done. We never mix business with pleasure. Well...almost never. I don't even know his real name!"

I do not own the copyrights for these photos which appear to be publicity materials from NBC or MTM.

In Honor of Great Britain's 2 Million Spinsters on Armistice Day

Aunt Carrie, American Spinster, Sidesaddle Horsewoman circa 1900.

In addition to honoring those who served in the military, I think it is important to also recognize some heroines of mine who were created by the devastation of the first World War: the spinster generation of Great Britain.  (American spinsters were not as profoundly affected because single male immigrants made up for many of the homegrown numbers who went to war and never came back .)

With so many men lost to the war, this was the first generation of women who had no hope of marrying. So what did they do? They became suffragists and social workers, writers and secretaries. They infiltrated the domains men had once completely dominated because they did not have the distractions of husbands and children, but had to make a living somehow. So many progressive social movements have their roots in a generation of spinsters with the time and energy to fight for the most vulnerable in society. They were veterans of the homefront and deserve recognition as well. 

Their story is told in the book Singled Out by Virginia Nicholson. 

It's a fascinating book. Until that generation, spinsters were entirely dependent upon their fathers or brothers. Thanks to the development of the typewriter and the nursing profession, they were able to make their own (albeit minimal) livings. Higher education was available to women for the first time. With so many men dead or diminished by injuries and PTSD, these women filled vacancies and forged new lives of their own with no map or handbook. They didn't have kids, so they poured their creativity and nurture into improving society and their lot in it. 

Day 9, 91 to go Bunny dish towel

Almost done!

On the bus ride yesterday, I worked on embroidering another dish towel.  I was a little distracted by the conversation of two 20-somethings sitting two rows behind me. For an hour and a half it was the usual bands they liked, roommate problems etc. And then she starts explaining to him her polyamorous lifestyle. She saves THAT for the last 10 minutes of the ride?  Geez! Couldn't she have started on the topic sooner? 

Actually, it struck me as a sad story--apparently some guy in his 30s convinced her in college that polyamory was the way to go.  All I could think was that he was a pervy old man refusing to give up his long-term partner and finding a way to get some nubile college chick on the side.  Somehow she seemed to think she was getting something good from being in a relationship that could not possibly be exclusive while she was young.  But I never heard a word about love or intimacy or commitment. Not as components, not as intention, not as expectation.   That just made me sad. It sounded like she was trying to impose some sort of rational theory on relationships,. Sage old spinsta that I am , I could have assured her that was pointless.  At least in my experience, love sneaks up and bonks you on the head--no matter how rational you try and be about it.  I just wish I had had a copy of Keeping the Love You Find in my bag to hand her on my way off the bus.

L-R Nicholas, Gary & Tony

I didn't get anything done on my making project today because we went to Baby Loves Disco where there was 80s music, a bar and children dancing their butts off with their parents.   Here are the dancers in question.

Spinning Leelah in the Vortex of the West Village

After so many years of talking about each other, I finally managed to introduce Leelah and Tony TO each other.  Gary and Leelah hadn't seen each other since we were in college 28 years ago. Today, they ignited a bond over their mutual love of 80s bands and dancing... Tony and Leelah talked shop about being massage therapists. And then there was Nicholas. He immediately fell in love with Leelah as most men do.  He is an outrageous flirt. He spent a good half hour turning Leelah's chair into a carousel and spinning her around and around.  Leelah reports that this is not a good combination with Jack Daniels.

I shall return to the catlings tomorrow. I missed having them sleep on me, although Nicholas came and snuggled this morning while his dads slept in, so that was almost as good. :)  More portable making on the agenda for the next few days...

Why Aren't You Married?

Obviously, these people are not deviants.

 

This is one of the many stupefying comments we spinstas hear with regularity about our lifestyles.  The question nearly always implies that we have done something “wrong” which has caused us to not be married.  (Apparently marriage is the result of doing things “right.”)  The implication is that marriage is the standard and any deviation from it must involve deviance and/or deviants. Somehow, we spinstas are expected to have a pat explanation for our single state.

After years and years of hearing this question and trying to find an answer that would make sense to the questioner without going into a big essay on the socio-cultural and personal influences on my marital status, I think I have finally generated a good answer to this question:

Why are you married? 

Really, I am interested.  What was the series of events that led to your being a married person?  Because the answer to why I am not married is simply that that very series of events that led to marriage for you didn’t happen to me.  I did not meet someone in kindergarten who has loved me ever since we were 5. (I don’t actually know anyone from kindergarten since we moved when I was in second grade.)

I didn’t meet anyone in high school or college either. On the latter point, I would like to state that there are many, many, many people with whom I went to a woman-centered/centered-woman’s (tm) college who did meet someone to marry.  They even have an alumni group just for the women who married men from the guys’ college down the road. So for those who claim I should have expected spinsta-hood since I went to a women’s college, I would like to point out that the vast majority of my classmates have MRS degrees.

I haven’t met anyone at work to marry either.  Or at any of the activities, classes and clubs I have participated in.  No friends or relatives have set me up with someone they think would be a good partner for me.  (Which is how my parents met) I have been to numerous weddings and funerals too.  Nothing. No one.

Et tu Padre?

I even know of a couple who met when he was the rector of a seminary and she was a nun who worked there.  You would hardly expect a seminary to be the place for people to find their life partner, would you?  Especially with that emphasis on celibacy that is so big there.

I have friends in wonderful partnerships and marriages that came after they accepted that they are gay.   It took them a while to get there—dating and even marrying people of a sex they weren’t particularly attracted to.  That didn’t happen to me either. Women don’t smell good to me the way men do.

It wasn’t for lack of trying either. Just how much effort did you put into finding someone?  Or were you just living your life and there they were?  For me, there was no one at singles groups and no one on line.  eHarmony promised someone for everyone, but they had no one for me. When I complained, they told me to change some of my answers—specifically the ones about whether I wanted children and what my religious beliefs are.

This is a crepe pan. See? No lid. Not even possible.

That didn’t make sense to me considering how important those two particular issues are to me and in most relationships.  It was then that I formulated the idea that while there may be a lid for every pot, some of us are crepe pans.  There are no lids for crepe pans.

For a while, I was explaining my spinstahood that way: I am a crepe pan. 

I sometimes like to imagine that the grandfather of a man I might have married died during WW I and never had kids—who never had the grandkid who would have been my husband.  My spinstahood began some time in the late 19-teens on Flanders fields.

Flanders Field where poppies grow, but not my husband's grandfathers.

But the truth is, I am a spinsta because that series of events that led to your being a married person did not happen in my life.  I guarantee you that is the very reason every other unmarried person is unmarried as well. So you can stop asking.  Now you know.

Everyone loves a love story.  It's hard to make non-love a story. Much less a story everyone would love. How do you come up with a recognizable narrative? A through-line of action in the inaction? 

In the meantime, I am asking. Why are you married? Did something happen in your life that I could have replicated in my life so it would have happened for me too?

Now what?

Now what?

A month ago, I scrounged up a manifesto I had written 5 years ago and posted it as my opening volley to begin a proper blog.  And then…

Nothing.

Those of you who know me (or who are Facebook friends) know I always have something to say about everything.  So one would think blogging would come naturally to me. I imagined I would be as verbose in a blog as I am in real life. Instead, I found myself plagued with a lot of questions.  Eventually, it occurred to me to write them down. The plague seemed to fall into two categories:

What is it about? and Who is it for?

The whole time I was plaguing myself with the variations on those questions, I also found myself looking over my own shoulder observing my day-to-day spinsta© life.  The plague and self observation really only served to leave me tied up in a big mute knot.  (Single knot, of course)

But at least I had written something down.  It was the list of plague questions.  Maybe that was my blog. Maybe I should just post whatever I can manage to write.  Maybe that’s how to start.  Am I starting at the very beginning, a very good place to start? 

When God closes a door, he opens a window on the 27th floor.

Suddenly, I have a vision of bracelets that say WWMvTD? I don’t usually turn to the Sound of Music version of Maria von Trapp for life wisdom.  But starting at the beginning—right where I am— makes some sense to me.  It reminds me of the other quote from that show that often comes to mind.  You know how the Mother Abbess tells Maria that when God closes a door he opens a window?   What Mother Abbess neglects to mention is that the window will be on the 27^th floor and you can either stand there or jump.  

As a recovering Catholic and practicing atheist, I have no confidence that a god or any magic will open a window—even on the 27^th floor.  But I do believe in pushing, shoving, knocking, jamming and generally doing whatever it takes to scratch out a glimpse of light to show the way out.  Admittedly, once in a while, the smart thing is just to wait and let time wear down the obstacles. But I won’t be making up any WWMAD bracelets any time soon.  My experience has taught me not to give a crap what Mother Abbess would do.

A bracelet I would seriously consider wearing would say WWR&HD? What would Rodgers & Hammerstein do? Or even better, WWSSD?  What would Stephen Sondheim do?  With my extensive knowledge of Rodgers , Hammerstein and Sondheim shows, there is every chance this blog could turn into a running list of song lyrics as they apply to the life of a spinsta©.

For now, though, I am going to list the plague of questions.  My guess is that this will lead to more questions than answers. But it’s as good a place as any to start.

1. What should it be about?
2. Should I focus on a specific theme?
3. Does my life even have a coherent theme?
4. How much of my own personal life do I want to share with whomever might wander by?
5. Do I want to censor myself in case my mother or conservative sisters read it?
6. What if a current or potential employer reads it?
7. What would make a good blog entry? 
8. Should I include photographs? 
9. How much faith do I have in my own writing abilities to just start writing and put it out there?
10. Who is this blog for?
11. What makes other blogs compelling enough that complete strangers make a point of reading them?
12. Do I have anything to say that complete strangers will find compelling, humorous, insightful, interesting, or most importantly, worth taking the time to read?

And here are the answers I have so far:

1. My idiosyncratic worldview.
2. There are certain themes I expect will dominate, but maybe once I start writing regularly, I will discover others I didn’t realize were always rumbling under the surface.
3. Only that it’s my life.  Spinsta©hood does seem to be fairly consistently recurrent.
4. TBD. It’s not as if I ever intend to run for office.
5. Ummm No. If I can put it out there for complete (and incomplete) strangers, I can put it out there for my sisters.  They don’t have to like it, but they are required to love me. (Note: I also have a brother, but I am not in the least worried about his reading a blog I write.)
6. Hopefully it will be just a good writing sample.
7. The blogs I enjoy are interactive, funny, insightful and make me think about things a little differently. Oh, and they give stuff away to lucky readers. J
8. If they are worth a thousand words.
9. Probably more than I should. Hopefully this will help me hone.
10. I think there need to be more voices of unapologetic singletons out in the culture, so while I expect to be writing about spinsta©life, it’s actually the coupled who are my audience. A spinsta© here and there might be interested to find someone who shares their experience, but couples tend to be oblivious to the reality that not everyone is in a couple.  They certainly can’t imagine what it’s really like to be a spinsta©.  Many fear being alone more than death. So to some degree, this blog is to take the fear out of what is so unknown to so many.
11. Free stuff. Quotes you can surprise your friends with. A very specific persona from the writer. Saying how you feel and asking for what you want.
12. People tell me so all the time.  It always surprises me since I live with this particular narrative in my head 24/7 and I am used to it.  Apparently I say stuff that is provocative or funny or entertaining when I don’t mean to.  So I want to see if I can do that when I am trying to.

So there! I have a second blog entry!  I will be curious to see what I come up with for a third. (And when…)

Spinsters Unite!

I had started a blog on AOL, but that is gone. My treatise remains much the same.

10/16/06

We are the last minority: Never-Married Women with (or without) cats. There is no PAC, "Save the Spinsters" movement or support group for us. We are each on our own. Completely on our own.

There is no character in a movie or on tv that expresses our life experience. Our dreams are the same as anyone's, except for the part where they do not come true. No matter what we've tried. (And some of us have really tried)

SPINSTERS UNITE!

I am convinced there are a lot more of us than we realize. My guess is that we all share a lot in common that is never mentioned in the media, in public, or even in private. We must live with an anachronistic sense of shame in our failure to marry and/or procreate.

How hard it is to distinguish between cultural shame and our own personal sense of loss. How do you grieve not what has happened, but what has not?

How do you watch your friends (and frenemies) get married and have families (and screw up and get divorced and then remarried) while standing on the sidelines as if trying to figure out how to jump in to a double dutch jump rope?

How in the world is it possible that the most unique, difficult and odd folks manage to find someone who shares their very specific worldview and life while we, who are bright, compassionate, articulate and passionate can not come across (randomly or intentionally) someone to share our lives with? (Particularly when we are not asking for someone exactly like us. Just someone who appreciates us and whom we appreciate?)

What is there to do when the Love of Your Life (tm) comes along, goes away and comes back again, but still doesn't reciprocate? How do you find someone to shop with at Costco? How do you explain to the attached what it is like to be eternally unattached?

I am not alone because my standards are too high. Or because I haven't really tried. Look around you at happy couples. How different are their standards? How many of them even had to make an effort of any kind to find someone? Look around you. Everyone else has met someone at work, at school, at a wedding, or even a funeral, at singles events in real life or on line....

I have tried all of those things and more. But there is simply no one for me. Every pot may have its lid, but what about the crepe pans? Tired of being shoved to the back of a dusty cabinet and forgotten, I am here to at least make this invisible life visible.

I won't have a husband, kids or grandkids to show for it. But I will leave behind this record. And of course, the prerequisite cats. (Just 2. I am a spinster, but not a "Cat Lady")