I have a new love... in lieu of dating, which I think I've completely given up on..I am now in love with my vehicles. Yes, my vehicles. I bought a 1972 Chevy C10 short box 350V8 pickup truck last summer. I've been dutifully working on it to soup it up all year. She's a real beaut.  With a 2" lower kit on it, a cam shaft and ceramic hugger headers it sounds like a speed boat when I step on the gas.  Nasty, gurgley and fast as shit, she'll undoubtedly cost me a ticket one day.

Then there's my other throwback baby...a 1970 Honda CB350.  She boogie's pretty good too. I bought her from a shop in Glendale, CA that specializes in vintage Honda CB series bikes.  They buy up these bikes in various states of disrepair, then ship them to their shop from all over the country and rebuild them as necessary.  New carbs, tires, chain, etc... all mechanical stuff gets replaced with new parts.  Then Jeremy resells them to anyone from freshmen riders (me) to experienced cafe guys.  After I decided to go for it, I began hunting on line for any and all info I could get my hands on.  I discovered a growing community of women riders who blog and group ride all over the country and world.  Through those blogs, that discussed everything from the mechanics of motorcycles to getting out on the open road for the first time, I gained a bit of courage.  One website had a helpful piece about the basics of getting your new bike home for the first time.  Something I hadn't even really considered before that. As nervous as I was, the feeling of riding on a motorcycle was intoxicating.  I still ride only locally, the freeways still scare the crap out of me, and little by little I'm gaining confidence as a rider.
On Labor Day weekend, I decided to drive her to a friends kids birthday party about 3 miles from my home.  As I left the bbq, my friends stood by cheering me on, all oo-ing and ah-ing over how cool me and my bike were.  As I drove off, I sped up the windy arroyo road towards home.  As I rounded a mean blind curve, suddenly the clutch went slack in my hand, and she sputtered to a stop. I managed to get her to the side of the road easily, but realized quickly I was in a bad spot, on the back side of that mean blind curve.  I'd had the bike not even a week, so I hadn't yet upgraded my AAA service to include flatbed tow for my bike.  I called a few friends for help... one did come through.  But as I sat there waiting for the tow, every single one of my friends I'd just finished impressing drove past. All of them rolled up in their Lexus' and BMW's asking if they could help... "Not unless you can move that baby seat and throw this baby in the back."  Needless to say, they all drove on with a wave and a wish of good luck.  "Hey!" I yelled..."it's a classic!" two and a half hours later... my tow arrived.
Jeremy and the guys at VintageHondaCB were right on top of it. In only a couple of hours they had figured out the problem (actuator) and fixed her up like new.
Honestly, I can't get enough of her.  For those of you ladies out there who have ever considered getting your own bike... I highly recommend it.  I'm looking forward to all of my future adventures!

Cruel, Cruel My Heart

Cruel, cruel my heart You are cold and icy My enduring and temperate protector When he melts her with his joy My snowy guardian leaves me And so she blooms warm and tender In his glow  But as his trepidation grows and his growing love ebbs away (in fear?) He leaves my heart melting, ugly, unprotected, in the blistering sun To wilt and fade And she, once beautiful as the glistening frozen lake, Is a muddy stain on the pavement Used up, spent,  Wasted. Cruel cruel my heart...

When I think of all of the men I've dated, flings I've flung, there's a few that stand out to me. One in particular popped his head back up today. When I first moved to LA 12 years ago, I found a job in a costume shop. They hired me just before the Halloween rush, I was working towards my union days.

One afternoon, an English couple walked through the door. She was a lovely wife, he was literally a soap opera star. Tagging along behind them was his childhood prep-school buddy, William. William was handsome, about 6', thin, not too terribly euro-trashy, but he had some solid preppy English style. After William's friend encouraged our flirtations, we began dating a little. William wasn't in town for long, or very often, but when he was, he was an absolute dream to hang out with. His heritage was Italian and Scottish. He went to English prep school, so there was plenty of English in him as well. His Italian father raised him half the time in Rome, while his Scottish mother raised him at the family castle in northern Scotland. He was officially, a Baron. Although with Bill you would never know it. He was so mellow and unpretentious, it was almost hard to believe. His work was described to me vaguely, it sounded mostly charitable, responsible and philanthropic. Saving large wild animals on the verge of extinction, and other important shit like that. We never talked about work then. It wasn't important. We were just having fun spending time together.

Bill came to LA probably a total of 4 or 5 times that I got to see him. He would come to visit Clive and soak up a little So-Cal Sun. I remember sleeping together one day and having the most charming post-coital conversation. In those few moments just after as we flopped apart on my bed, he sighed and started over-analyzing his performance.

"Was it good for you?"

"Of course!" I added instantly, it was. Without missing a beat he was off again...

"Because I feel like I could've done better. But it was delicious, but if I had only done..." and blah blah blah he went on and on for a good 15 minutes basically to himself - as though he and his invisible, annoying twin brother were arguing together. And finally as I giggled at him, he sighed, looked over at me with his sad and gorgeous, bedroom eyes, and said, "sometimes it's painfully obvious I grew up with the English."

It was over the course of a couple years that we saw each other, again, not very often. But every time was as delightful as the last. Ah the last...

The last time I saw him, he had come to LA just as I was starting to shoot a tv show in Vegas. He came out to LV, and I remember seeing him briefly. I had also just started dating a card dealer there. I didn't want to tell him I was involved. I felt if I told him I wasn't available he would be less likely to call me the next time he was in the States. The last thing I wanted was to put him off and lose track of him. I truly always wanted to stay friends with him. But being a stupid girl, I decided it would be better to tell him nothing at all. Of course at that point, to him it seemed, I blew him off. No explanation. Nothing. Naturally, we lost touch. Dummy.

Fast forward through my miserable dating existence over the following 7+ years. Douche bag after douche bag. I finally began to travel more. I fell in love with Italy. I remember the first trip I took to Rome. I thought of Bill many times, kicking myself each time he crossed my mind for not, at the very least, staying in touch.

Then just 3 or 4 weeks ago, I got an email from a professional networking website. The site was developed for professional connections, not social ones. Several producers I've worked with encouraged me to join to stay connected to them. I'm not exactly certain how this website determines how they make their suggestions for possible connections, but they have definitely hooked me back up with some long lost colleagues. This last set of suggestions the site emailed surprised me. It offered up Sean and Anne, Casey, Jim and one or two others. The last suggestion was my favorite Baron. I absolutely couldn't believe it! Was it possible? Could this be?? I looked at his profile and was able to determine pretty much immediately that it was definitely Bill. Naturally I was elated. A chance to reconnect! I figured that best case scenario he was still single and I'd finally become the Baroness I was born to be. Worst case- he was married with kids but I'd still have a bitchin European connection, and my old pal back. There was a small spot for a short emailed message to the connection. I took my chances and emailed a short note.

CP: Hi Handsome! Long time no see! Hope you're well! Best- Caroline, Los Angeles

Within about 10 minutes I had a response via email.

BP: Hi Caroline what are you up to now???

Bill

I almost fell over. Wow! How great- the internet never ceases to amaze me. So I wrote right back.

CP: Hi! I'm well thanks- still doing my costume thing here in LA-La-land. Working on a show called House for a while now, and its good. Full time work is always nice, if not a bit unusual in Hollywood. How are you?? Where are you these days?

C

I decided to err on the side of caution. Don't give away too much about my own status while trying to draw out as much info as possible with my soothing and harmless tone. Boy did that ever work.

BP: I am well. Since I saw you last I got married moved to Kenya to work in slums (water and sanitation) for 4 years then moved to Scotland where we are developing some eco-houses and farming and 6 months ago moved back to Rome as my wife got a new post at the UN there. I have two boys one 3.5 and one 1.5 who are great.

I am in Scotland this week as have meetings with planners etc re eco-houses and cooking school we are developing and it is really cold.

My friend Clive still lives in LA-la-land and I will be coming over at some point so hopefully we could meet up.

Wx (note: the signature gets a bit more comfortable and familiar with the addition of the *kiss*)

Well I guess it was going to be the worst case scenario after all. I mean jesus, he may as well have said, "life is good, I've been sainted by the catholic church, crowned king of the world, and have been quite busy curing cancer and saving dying babies since last we met." WTF? Why must fate insist on punishing me over and over again?

Now that I knew where I stood, I figured I'd commit to the friend angle and hope for what any woman in my shoes would hope for... divorce. No, not really... grrr....

I responded, disgusted with my own meaningless job.

CP: Wow! (fuck) Awesome! (NO!) Congratulations! (WHY ME?!) I'm so happy for you- I would love to see photo's of your family (read: WIFE) -how entirely cute! Little boys are adorable- (insert caring and benevolent reference to children to show my compassion and harmlessness)- I have twin nephews myself who are the apple of my eye... I love the work you're doing- it sounds incredible! I'm an enormous fan of architecture and the eco-concept is fantastic. (flatter flatter flatter...) We need more people like you and projects like yours in the world- Seems like where you were, and what you were doing in Kenya was challenging, but perfectly noble, and totally necessary. What a divine and inspiring existence you are leading! (add self-deprecating sarcasm here) Sounds EXACTLY like my life here in Hollywood!

(read: KILL ME)

Honestly rainy cold Scotland sounds gorgeous to me- (subtle reminder I'd fly to Scotland in a heartbeat if invited) The lack of any weather other than sunny and warm does get a bit boring after 11 years... (subtle hint he needs warm sunny "weather") Well, send my hellos to Clive, and stay in touch! So nice to hear you're out there doing so many wonderful things! I get to Europe usually once a year, so I will be sure to let you know next time I'm there. Big hug and a kiss-

C

followed by my email address and cell number.

I mean, seriously?! And as if that weren't bad enough, he ended our emails that day with the photo's of the "family".

BP: Dear Caroline, (AHA! Now it's "dear Caroline"! yes! progress!)

Here a two photos of the children (oy. great. thanks dude. no wife. damn.)

Then the fotos of 2 of the most gorgeous babies ever, and a bit of blah blah about the kids - one in his toy mercedes car (yes toy mercedes) and the other lounging in the hammock at their "place in Italy".

And if that weren't enough...

It is great doing the eco-building. We are trying to design and build 10 eco-houses to sell to finance the restoration of our stable complex (notice he didn't say 'barn' but 'complex'- I'm gonna guess there's a large square footage difference there) built in 1776 (yup. his friggin horse barn is as old as my stupid country) into 7 apartments (all using local and recycled materials, renewable energy, rainwater harvesting etc) (naturally) and an area for a cooking school based on reconnecting people with local food. (might be my dream vacation.) I am also trying to get permission to put up 3 small wind turbines which will be shared with the local community which is exciting. (and maybe I can feed all the hungry and house all the homeless while I'm at it)

And of course it gets worse.....

I heard that House is a great programme that has won loads of awards so that must be great.

(read: if I had any time to do meaningless stupid stuff that commoners do like watch tv- although I could afford the finest, of course I don't even have one- I'm sure I'd watch your ..what was it called again?)

Do let me know when you are over in Europe next as it would be great to catch up.

Bill x

W x

And after that final slap in the face, an interesting twist? A double signature... and 2 *kisses*. I'm sure it was unconscious but it's telling nonetheless... he, at the very least remembers me fondly in spite of my retarded blow-off.

Its all just so ..... disgusting. I like my career choice enough, I really do. But I have no illusions about the ridiculous farce that it is. It literally is a pathetic joke that takes itself way too seriously. And when you get confronted with a life and profession of saintly proportions... well, its enough to make me want to hit myself in the head with a polo mallet.

And House is the number 1 show in the WORLD. A girl just can't get a damn break.

We don't kiss when we make love

and I'm not dying for romance

but is it too much to ask

for you to give a girl a chance?

I've seen them out there

the boys who love their girls

they sing sweet songs about them

dress them in diamonds and pearls

but you and me

we just dont seem

to have exactly what it takes.

yeah you and me

just don't know

that love cannot be faked.

I bet this guy would date me... the "yup/nope" makes me weak in the knees.

Chicago

When you see your moment

don't hesitate

hold his hand

steal his kiss

for when it becomes too late

you might regret

a moment spent

watching your passing fate

don't cry, don't cry

he'll only wonder why

its just a dance

no fine romance

its just a dance you fool...

it was wonderful.

he held my hand to the dance floor. without pause he pressed me against him. he led me with authority. I had to stand on my toes! As the room spun around us in a blur, the others were nothing more than flashing sparks in the dark. The music of the big band instantly transported me. I felt so at home and comfortable in his arms. I didn't know him at all. Only a name. I would make sure he was looking over my shoulder, then I would let my eyes close in a dream... fantasizing that we were in love. I had to open my eyes and remind myself, "hey! he doesn't belong to you, nor you to him dummy." But every time he would skillfully slide our bodies around the dance floor, then suddenly slow to half time steps, I had to hold my breath... "don't cry... don't cry... it's just a dance you fool..." it was wonderful,...

we met again a couple nights later- we sat, two giants, crammed in a tiny booth at the Green Mill. A jazz act was killing... our hands found one another under the table... he held mine in his - sometimes firm and bossy, sometimes delicately with tenderness. He asked me what I thought I'd learned about him in our brief time chatting so far... then he told me what he'd learned about me. Smart, sweet, sassy, (something like that)... ruthless at times. Brutally honest. (I nodded reluctantly) He suggested there might be some secret he could figure out about me so that he would "have a chance with" me. I smiled and thanked God under my breath that it was dark in there at Al Capone's booth... could he tell I was blushing? I was already his...

But with too many prying ears and eyes, there was no way to delve deeper. Just holding his hand and being with him would have to suffice. It was late, he was so tired. I felt badly for keeping him up past his bedtime, but I wanted him there with me as well. I knew this would probably be the last time we'd meet before I flew back home to LA., so I wanted it to last forever. But everything must come to an end. Finally he had to go... I let him, but only with his promise of brunch the next day. He picked me up at noon. It was Mother's Day. There was no hope of any solitude or privacy at brunch on Mother's Day. We chatted about our hopes and dreams, and about our lost loves. After dragging it out as long as humanly possible, it was finally time to say goodbye. As we pulled up to the curb, I looked into his eyes for a moment... all I wanted to do was kiss him. Kiss him long and slow, as though we were in love... I think he wanted me to, but I suddenly felt extremely foolish for even considering it. It was all a sweet fantasy, just a brief encounter between two people- lost souls even? I certainly feel a little lost when it comes to romance. Usually I'm overly critical of it- and when I do relent and allow myself to dive head first into romance, I end up banging my head on reality... hard. So I left him with a hug and a small melancholy kiss on his cheek... until we meet again.....

"men" vs. "sex"

Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe... it's me. That's certainly more likely. Perhaps I went into this dating website thing with the wrong attitude. Or at least a misguided one. I figured the men on those websites weren't shamelessly trolling for pussy. Ha! I know, I know what you're thinking... Jesus Caroline, I thought you were smart! One of the ones who "knows better". Yup. I generally am. But the older I get, the more naive I seem to become... I guess I figure since I'm honest ... brutally, even painfully so (just ask anyone who knows me) that others are as well. Or they're at least capable of it. I guess I'm just mad at myself for thinking I was smarter and then.. for not thinking.