I didn't know that Rose Marie, of The Dick Van Dyke Show and Hollywood Squares, was a singing child star and slightly parodied in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Amazing what you can learn while slumming around Vegas tie-in: Rose Marie was the opening night performer at the Flamingo.

Thinking about Baby Jane made me think about - no, not the underrated Rod Stewart song - but Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?, with Shelley Winters. And because I just had to keep clicking, I've now learned that there's such a thing as a "psycho-biddy" genre.

And will Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine ever make up?

(Time passes and somehow I end up reading about Jean Darling, who - in addition to being a well-published mystery author living in Ireland now - offers a fetching story about a fan's devotion and - look - makes her email public. Very cool.)

The title of this post has two meanings, both related to something that came up today that (as usual!) I can't talk about. I'm sure it will come to nothing (see says, pretending to be breezy, hoping she can out-psych the universe), but it's exciting to have hope. So, I'm tapping my toe to the invisible humhum music of happiness. But, I'm also tapping my toe with impatience, because I won't know more before Monday, and then one thing has to happen, then another, and then more waiting, and - well - again - I'm sure it's nothing. So I don't know why I'm flailing my toes about at all. I should be wondering when I'll ever get those sea lion photos up or ironing tomorrow's pants.

Silly toes.

10 April 2008 |

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