In LA, I stayed with my great good friend Leslie Belzberg and her eight year old daughter, my goddesschild, Sophie. One afternoon, after we found that the cheesy diner I was trying to take her to for a coke was closed, Sophie walked me over to Elixir on Melrose for tea. She ordered the Ro-something Africanus, and a cherry tart. She picked out the table, set among rustling bamboo and near a gurgling fountain, poured some tea for me, sat back and announced, "This is living."
After some R&R in LA, a visit with my friend Lori, from NYC, now a shining star at the UCLA Film School and then a too-quick afternoon and evening with my galpal who was in LA for meetings, it was off to the Fabled Dinah Shore Golf Classique for moi. A friend of Tam Martin’s, Joan Heeter picked me up at the airport and we were off! Heeter is a golfer, so was able to point out all the golfers – Michele, Anika, Julie – as we hiked in to the NCLR booth on the course. At the booth they shared with the fab gals from Olivia, we amused ourselves watching straight guys come by and grab up the free NCLR golf tees and key chains. Lots of splaining to do at home that night.
Once again, Andrea Meyerson and her Women on a Roll gang threw a great party in the desert. I did four shows in two nights amidst a flurry of Dinah activities. Another NCLR fundraiser, this one a brunch at the amazing home of Roberta Conroy and Terry Fabris. There we didn’t lock any doors for fundraising. If they paid more, I told them they could stay for the week. Kidding. I did a book reading and signing at the Peppertree Bookstore and Cafe, a lovely indepedent bookstore on Palm Canyon Drive. It was an oasis of calm in a sea of non-readers. I had too-short visits with VickiShaw, her Sgt. Patch, Charlese, Lisa Koch, and many others.
Sunday morning I got up at 430a, but we’d sprung ahead, so no telling what time it was. Please don’t tell me. Heeter drove me to the airport where I caught a flight at 630a and made it back to New York in time for the Women’s Final Four from Boston. Go Terps. A totally gal sporty weekend. Travel note: it takes longer to get from JFK to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, than it takes to fly from Palm Springs to Dallas. That is not right. Someone please call Mayor Bloomberg at 311 and tell him to fix it. Thank you.