I’m a New York dame with classic Hollywood film characters swimming in my imagination.  You know me.  I’m that woman of a certain age – the Senator • the Judge • the cosmetic firm CEO.  I’m the long-time wise-cracking assistant to the geriatric billionaire. I’m the flashy aunt who loves a good time • the hip grandmother • the wry mother-in-law. I’m the affluent matriarch with renegade offspring.  I’m the corrupt politician’s wife.  Heck, I’m the corrupt politician!

I’m out of sync and out of this time and that’s just fine with me.  I’m most comfortable in the reverie of those old films.  I’m happiest knowing that there I awaken every morning perfectly made up, coiffed and swathed in a lovely peignoir.  I’m the authoress, the congresswoman, the entrepreneur.  There I’m that woman who’s never at a loss for words, never without a man with white tie and tails, and most definitely never without a good foundation garment.  I’m Eve Arden’s Ida to Joan Crawford’s Mildred Pierce.  And when my fantasies are really on a riotous romantic roll, the glam factor kicks in and, in my head, don’t I just look scintillating in a close-up with Clark Gable!  Ah, what bliss!  And so, I act.