Even as far back as 1979-1980, I lived a jet set life. There I was, three or four, plotting my next great trip to Japan.
With my husband Dumas.
Who was from Africa.
Dumas was my imaginary friend, er, husband - my travel partner who joined me in the spectacular pursuit of passport stamps and Play-Doh artistry.
Later, dress-up with my sister would involve artfully draped scarves, costume jewels, handbags and Nana C's Spectator pumps. I think our time with Nana (and the frequent viewing of Days of our Lives) led to story lines with high drama. We would yell for imaginary butlers and strike the most pretentious of poses - hands on hips with ring fingers thrust out.
This was around, oh, eight years old.
I've always had a flair for the dramatic. I've worn saran wrap tube tops, sparkly red "Dorothy" ruby slippers and bike chain choker necklaces (all as an adult).
I guess I like getting in to character - and I've always prided myself on being a social chameleon.
This affinity for crazy scenarios translates into a fierce passion for the movies.
My Netflix subscription sends me three movies at a time - sometimes they're thought provoking examples of cinematography. Other times they're colorful, fluffy comedies that tickle me right in the ribs.
Whenever I go to a movie theater, I entertain the idea of sticking around for a sneaky double feature. The insane ticket price (remember when going to the movies cost a five spot?) somehow leads me to legitimize the prospect of breaking the law - especially around Oscar time.
This year's Academy Awards is serving up ten best picture nominees. I've seen four of the ten pictures and am dying to see several of the others (although James Cameron can have his Avatar).
I'm excited because this year I'll be watching the big show from People Working Cooperatively's Oscars After Party. My friend Shannan asked me to serve as a host on behalf of PWC, one of her clients at Wordsworth Communications. I am familiar with the good work PWC does in the community - they help low income, elderly and disabled people who are struggling to complete repairs on their own home - and just couldn't say no.