Before twitter there were fan letters: Dear Mr. Redford

November 12, 1973
Dear Bob Mr. Redford,I just had to write to tell you how hot and sexy talented, I think you are. 
Laura and I bickered over who was more desirable — Robert Redford or Clint Eastwood — with as much fervor as we girls once debated who our favorite Beatle was, Paul or John, George or Ringo. Laura's mother, tiny Corky, curled up in her easy chair with a ciggie and a cup of tea, pronounced both actors 'tall drinks of water'.

This was so long before water became such a desirable commodity that we actually had to buy it by the bottle, back in the seventies when water was still free even in the once desert lands of Los Angeles, that I never quite understood the praise. But yes, Redford could put his shoes under my bed any time, as our mothers might have said, mostly about men whose paths they would likely never cross.

I had it so bad for Robert Redford after seeing The Way We Were; wishing I were Barbara Streisand with her impossibly long elegant hands and nails, bru…

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One more reason to hate laundry...

My son, who shall remain nameless - “Mom, don’t you dare write about me! That’s not fair!” came home today from a week of Outdoor Education in Malibu. Outdoor Education is a program for sixth graders who get to spend a week at Camp Bloomfield in the Santa Monica Mountains. The kids don’t just look at pictures of tide pools, they hike it down to the Pacific Ocean and get their feet wet.They don’t just talk about astronomy. They go out on a night hike and see the stars first hand.
But it's the rainy season here in California so this idyllic sounding time in the great outdoors of sunny Southern California wasn’t quite what you might think.
While “sunblock” was on the list of must-bring items, it had to be the least-used item they packed … unless you count the toothpaste! And when I unzipped his duffel bag to get at the laundry - because, God knows I love to do laundry - I found his extra pair of shoes (drenched), soaked socks (none matching), a dripping wet pair of khakis and his yellow poncho. The poncho was quite dry.There was also a plastic bag full of more clothes.
“Don’t touch it, Mom. In fact, I’d just dump the whole duffel bag in the washer if I were you.”
Easy for you to say, I thought to myself, you’re not the one who actually has to wash, dry, fold and worst of all, put away these clothes.
“Everything’s dirty?” I ask, pulling out a t-shirt from the plastic bag.
“Not totally dirty. It’s just that’s the t-shirt I was wearing when I found the poison ivy.”
Poison ivy?!”“Yeah. They said it’ll take a couple of days before we’ll know if I’m gonna get it or not.”
Standing there, still holding the potentially poison ivy infested t-shirt I can’t help but think Oh, yeah. You’re gonna get it, alright!”

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