We are fine, and happy to have too much work.
Only this awful thing happened last week:
Tom was driving, and he is fine. I was at home. I'm actually OK with not having a car--the only bad thing is: for being 13 years old, my car was in great shape. . . and I'll probably only get $500 for it because it's so old. I thought I could take some of the money and spend it on girls' shoes, so I went to Nordstrom Rack yesterday and here's what I ended up with:
Tom took this picture by mistake when we were trying to preview the boots on the camera. It's funny because I was telling my therapist that I wanted more closeness between Tom and me. He asked (in a very gentle way) (after spending a year or so on this topic) if I would ever consider wearing something, you know, beautiful to sleep in. I don't know why he would suggest such a thing; how could anybody resist me in my slinky negligee? (below)
A nice email from my agent:
Ouch! I feel for you-but am glad Tom is alive to tell the story.
Enjoy yr beautiful boots. May they last past 13 years and get really broken in.
And may a Land Rover never crash into them!
DG
A frank email from Cheryl:
Girl...we gotta get you to Victoria's Secret!
