When I die, the only thing other than my name that needs to go on my tombstone is the last phrase sung on Abbey Road — and, in a sense at least, the last thing the Beatles sang, too. That’s one of the only things I truly believe.
Well, not the very, very last phrase, because I’m sure Her Majesty is a pretty nice girl, but I don’t want that sitting on my head for eternity.
Going back to work is always a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I need and want to work to feel good and exercise my creativity and pay the bills and etc. On the other hand…work.
And this is totally my approach toward making a living. I can’t tell you how many times I have tried to explain one of my business ideas to wife or friends and finished with, “You’ll see — if this works, they’ll worship me like a god!” Still a bit short of worshippers, but if I just keep doing the same thing over and over, something’s bound to work out eventually, right? I mean, that’s SCIENCE.
When you’re out staking your claim on Black Friday…
Had a really nice Thanksgiving here in cool, bright Northern California. It was a small and low-key affair, which is just the way we wanted it. Since my brothers and their families had other places to go, and Deb’s family doesn’t celebrate our odd American holiday and anyway they live on the other side of one of your major oceans, it was just me and Deb and ours at my parents’ house. As a result we actually got to do family stuff, like play a game of Apples To Apples together and go for a walk and even — gasp — throw a football around. (It hurt a little to be that normal, but we’re all recovering.) Anyway, yeah. Nice day. Hope yours was too.
A more modern actress wishes you all a happy holiday in today’s profile pic. Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Imogen Stubbs, her family, and her can.
As you gather today with family and friends, remember that it’s easiest to hide the poison in the cranberry sauce.