The Coop

funky chickens

a bunch of funky chickens

Yes, I know they are roosters. But they are cool, and represent me and my flockies perfectly. So there.

Anyway, when I was asked to guest post** over on ‘It’s Fitting’, I stalked the blog a bit to see if I had something worthy to share. Ashley had me at CHICKENS. Why? Because I’m still very close with a couple of the girlfriends I’ve had since college. Whom I sort of  convinced to move out to Los Angeles a year after I made the trek. What can I say? I’m a charming and persuasive trendsetter…lol. Besides, it’s HOLLYWOOD, and both are performers, so it was the natural progression of things. Oh, and not only did I convince them to follow me to the West Coast, I set one of them up with my single FIL 10 years ago, and now she is my step-MIL. That’s another story entirely though 🙂

The thing is, We are Chickens. Always have been…always will be, and will no doubt be sharing a ‘retirement coop’ one of these days, having long out-lived our male-Rooster mates, and doing our best to live life to the fullest….together forever…covered up with grandbabies. To say that I remember how the chicken reference came about, would surely be a lie. I don’t. Probably out of a drunken night of playing Scrabble at 1321 N.Vista. Or maybe one day at FMP in West Hollywood. Or….hell, I don’t know. All I do know is it stuck, and that’s how we’ve referred to each other for almost two decades now.

Why am I choosing today to talk about this, you ask? Well, because it’s The Spring Chicken’s “big” birthday today. As in, the last of us is turning the big FOUR OH. We are, 42, 41 and now 40…respectively: Mama Hen, Middle Clucker, and Spring Chicken.

Since I technically met Mama Hen first, I’ll start by dishing about her. She happened to be in the Beginning Modern Dance class I was a TA for my junior year in college at Bama. It was a class based on the Graham Technique, and it was for neither beginners, nor pussies. Anybody that knows anything about modern dance, knows that Martha Graham–The Mother of Modern Dance–was rigid in her form. We had football players come through the class thinking it would be an easy ‘A’, only to drop it in the second week, because they just couldn’t cut it. Anyway, after the second class, Mama Hen strolled up to me and asked if I tutored students. She was desperate for a good grade, but wanted to earn it and offered to pay me (cha-ching!). The fact that she was genuinely interested in learning the proper technique cinched it, and I agreed…despite the fact I was taking a full course load of 18 hours, had numerous pieces to choreograph for various concerts, had been cast in others’ work which involved rehearsal, AND had 3 other jobs–bartender, Budweiser beer girl, and art class model. What was ONE more iron in the fire anyway? 

So it began.

Mama Hen and Spring Chicken knew each other from working together at a local restaurant…I think? Not certain. I knew of Spring Chicken because we were all part of the Theatre and Dance Department, although I’d not met her formally. That didn’t come until later. After she’d dated my ex-boyfriend briefly while “we were on a break”, and I ended up face to face with her AS MY TRAINER when I showed up for my first day on the job at the same restaurant where she and Mama Hen worked. I couldn’t figure out how to tie my tie, and she offered to help.Talk about an awkward moment! It was either let her do it, or quit on the spot. One beautifully tied red bowtie later….the tension had cleared and we’d become fast friends by the end of the day.

And for the last 18 years or so, you haven’t been able to pry us apart with a stick. Okay, well…that’s not entirely true. We’ve had some moments, the 3 of us. Good, bad, and smacked-every-branch-on-the-way-down-the-tree-UGLY. Fortunately now, they are all water droplets under a great big, gorgeous bridge with support beams rooted straight into the center of the Universe. True friendships like that are really hard to come by, so when you fall into one…don’t let it go. Seriously. And if you are lucky enough to have more than one, take the time to water them with love, kindness, loyalty and respect. Otherwise, just like plants that have been neglected for too long, they will die….

Which reminds me of something funny that happened just after Spring Chicken and I moved in together when she arrived in LA. We ventured out on a mission to Ikea to pick up a few things for the condo. Despite me telling her I had a BLACK THUMB, she decided to invest in a plant. No…a tree. In a pot. She thought I was bluffing. For awhile, it was fine. I stayed a good distance from the green, living thing with leaves and branches, and it remained alive. However, at some point, it perished. Spring Chicken noticed, and immediately asked what I did to it. So I had to tell her: I watered it. Yes, that really happened.

There are too many memories and shared jokes to specifically pinpoint, so I’ll just let them stay ‘on the inside’. What I will do though, is tell you ten great things about The Coop.

1. We are brutally honest. In other words, if we utter the words “Does this make me look fat?”….we must be prepared for the answer.

2. There isn’t very much (if anything) we don’t know about each other. In fact, I’d venture to guess that we know a tiny bit more about each other than any of our respective mates know about us.

3. Having a close girlfriend as your MIL really rocks (once you iron out the wrinkles of the situation).

4. We consider the 5 collective children between us ‘all our own’, even though only 2 of us birthed the lot of them. It’s nice to know, when The Beans misbehave at either household….they will be disciplined in the same manner I would do it myself. Maybe it’s a Southern thing?

5. We keep each other grounded. This alone is worth it’s weight in gold.

6. We harbor secrets, both big and small. Except between each other. Information is usually shared freely, even if at different times. There’s a lot of ‘oh, yeah…she told me that’, without any feelings of betrayal. Hard to swing those conference calls, ya know.

7. We are supportive of each other’s careers, goals, dreams, hopes, etc. Even if we don’t understand them completely.

8. I lent my underwear to one of them at a music video shoot one day, because she decided to ‘go commando’ that morning and ended up in wardrobe that was not conducive to that situation. I pulled off a surprise bday party for the other one year by calling and telling her I was in labor, so she would drop everything and show up at my house immediately. How many people can say that?

9. There are only a few people I would help bury a body. They are two of them.

10. We are doing what we said we would: growing old together.

Happy Birthday, Chicken! Let the celebrations begin 🙂


The Chickens, circa a favorite spot of ours. Good times.....

The Chickens, circa 2003…at a favorite spot of ours. Good times…..



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**This post was originally published over at It’s Fitting. If you’ve never visited Ashley and her chickens, go there….now 🙂

The blessing of a maple leaf


Los Angeles, 1997.

A guy walked up to the bar I was tending, and asked for …my best friend. Automatically, I kicked into BFF protection mode, answering his request with an interrogation. It went something like this:

Me: “E’s not working today. Who are you, and why are you looking for her?”  For all I knew, he could be a stalker. Or a process-server. Or a bounty hunter. Or…I don’t know….an IRS agent. We are actresses, living in LA for crying out loud.  Whatever. You get the point. If this guy wanted to reach her, he would  have to go through ME, and I wasn’t about to make it easy.

Guy: “Well, my name is JCD. I’m a film producer from Canada, and I’m staying here at the hotel on business. I met her a couple of nights ago while she was tending the bar, and upon learning she was an actress, invited her to an industry related party, but she didn’t show up.” 

Me: (sporting a deer-in-headlights look on my face) “Ooohhh. That was YOUR party we blew off last night? Oops. I’m Nancy, E’s best friend. Nice to meet you. Sorry we stood you up.”  (E asked me to go with her, but we tossed around the idea for too long, got distracted, and ultimately decided we were just too tired to go).

We shared a giggle at my blatant admission, and proceeded to chat for a couple of hours. Mind you, this was during a day shift at Skybar, while El Nino was in full swing, so the bar was empty and I had plenty of time to devote to making friends with customers 🙂 Lucky for me, because, during the course of our conversation, he invited me to a dinner party he was throwing for a few friends the following evening at the Conga Room. I didn’t flake, and several of the people who were in attendance that night are still close friends of mine to this day. One of the girls ended up being a bridesmaid in my wedding, and Sugar Bean was the flower girl at hers. From that friendship, other introductions were made, and what I like to refer to as “my friendamily” was born. The inner circles have blended, grown and blossomed, becoming concentric over the years. It’s a beautiful thing. There are a ridiculous number of people I feel blessed to have in my life (you know who you are), and they all landed there because of…


He is my very best, straight, unattached male friend, and has never been interested in me romantically. Never. It was that way from the beginning. We just became traveling buddies. He invited me to Palm Desert to a spa for a couple of days and I’d never been to one before. Then, he hosted me up in Canada for my first trip there EVER, and later was responsible for me being the only female allowed to attend a bachelor party weekend in Vegas. And for those of you wondering…NO…. I was NOT the entertainment. Just ‘one of the guys’, and it was priceless. In addition, he ignited my passion for watching live NHL hockey games by taking me to see the Toronto Maple Leafs vs. The NY Islanders at Maple Leaf Gardens, about 14 years ago. It was the first professional sporting event I’d ever attended. Lots of firsts. But that’s how best friendships are supposed to be, right?

Sometimes when people get married, their respective partners are opposed to them maintaining friendships with members of the opposite sex, and dear  friendships are lost. That was not an option with JCD and me. He was part of the package. So The Man married into the friendship, and they hit it off brilliantly. Now they even collaborate on film projects occasionally. When we are all together, I get to hang with the love of my life and my best guy friend. It’s a win-win all around!

The first time they met was at the Sundance Film Festival in January 1999, before The Man and I married. JCD rented a large house for the duration of the festival, and as a birthday gift to me (I’m a Capricorn–you figure it out), he invited us to stay there without paying a cent. We did, upon arrival, run out and stock the kitchen with groceries and the bar with liquor, because The Man felt we needed to contribute somehow. So there. After 8 days in Park City, where we partied like rock stars, and I learned to tumble down the slopes with a snowboard clamped to my feet, The Man and I, with JCD in tow, decided to route our flights home through Vegas. We stayed there for 4 days, gambling, eating at fancy restaurants and, finally, watching the Super Bowl. They were a Rat Pack duo, with a female chaperone…lol. After that, the plan was for JCD to come back to Los Angeles with us, and stay at our house while he attended to some business. Unbeknownst to JCD, while we were in Vegas, The Man and I had figured out I was…um…late. Therefore, we suspected there might be some big news to share upon our return to the City of Angels. As soon as we got home, we tested.

Sure enough, we were positive. 5 weeks positive, in fact.

Imagine what runs through your mind when you’ve just arrived home after 2 weeks vacation, having done everything you are not supposed to do while preggo, including but not limited to, tumbling down a hill on a snowboard–and finding out you are, in fact…preggo.  Yeah, I had those thoughts.

But I digress.

JCD was the first person we told. From that moment on, he was family. Plain and simple. Whether he liked it or not. Three weeks later, The Man and I were married, and JCD was the deejay. A fandamntastic one, I might add. His business negotiations in Los Angeles lasted almost 3 months, and he lived with us newlyweds for that duration. It was an adventure, I tell you! Unbelievable memories were made, including one about a Greek Easter party our neighbors threw on Malibu Beach, that needs a blog post all its own. I’ll get to it eventually. Promise.

Although I’ve known him for almost 14 and a half years, over the course of the last thirteen, he has been like a brother to both The Man and me, filling a role as vital oxygen does in our lives. He has listened to each of us bitch about the other, and never uttered a word or chosen a side. He’s witnessed emotional meltdowns over broken friendships, business partnerships, and finances. He has come to us with business opportunities, and kicked us in the ass when we needed it. But most of all, he has treated our girls like they are his own, always remembering birthdays and showering them with presents and attention. Last August, when Sugar Bean announced, just two weeks before the concert, that for her 12th birthday, she would like to see Adele perform live…he came through with stellar seats to a sold out show. Then, this past Christmas, which was a rather tight one, budget-wise, he asked what was on The Beans’ lists, and fulfilled the requests completely. He has worked miracles, and been Santa too 🙂

But it’s the little things that mean the most, and two days ago, he touched my heart with a totally out-of-the blue surprise related to something that happened a week ago. Something that didn’t go unnoticed, but deserved more attention than it got.

Last Monday evening, Sugar Bean found an iPhone4 lying on the sidewalk as we returned to our car after having dinner with family. Although she desperately wants one herself, her first instinct was to locate the owner and return it. The phone was pass code locked which prevented me from accessing the owner information immediately. So we took it home, with the intention of taking it into an AT&T store the following day. Around ten o’ clock that evening, it rang, and The Man answered. The owner was on the other end. He explained how our 12-year-old daughter  had discovered it, and insisted we return it to whom it belonged. The lady thanked him profusely, promised a reward and asked if they could meet ASAP, as “her life was on that phone.” The Man agreed and they decided upon a rendezvous point halfway between where we live and where she was at the time. It happened to be right smack where she lost it…or thereabouts. So he set out, iPhone in hand. Immediately upon arrival, he spotted the owner of the phone, but felt something amiss. There were two groups of guys engaged in what appeared to be a fight, and it was unclear whether or not the lady he was there to meet might be the cause. She hurried over, took her phone, thanked my husband and said there needed to be more people in the world like him. Then she jumped in her car and left. No exchange of names. No reimbursement for gas spent driving 20 miles to return it. No reward. Nothing. Just the act of doing the right thing.

The next morning, I posted a status on FB about what happened the night before. I was very proud not only of Sugar Bean for making the right decision, but also The Man and myself for successfully parenting her in a way, that led her to do the right thing instinctively, despite her own desire for the magical Apple device. Lots of friends ‘liked’ the post and commented on it. However, JCD truly went above and beyond.

Day before yesterday, an envelope arrived in my mailbox. It was addressed to Sugar Bean, and me. On the back it simply said, “From the Karma Fairy”. The only indication from whom it came, was the Canadian stamp. But I knew.  Inside the envelope was a note with the following words on it:

“Every good decision deserves a reward. Love, The Karma Fairy.”

In addition to the note, there were two ten-dollar bills. A reward.

Needless to say, it made her day, and mine.


I want to publicly thank JCD for his totally unnecessary, yet immeasurably thoughtful gesture.

“JCD…You are without a doubt one of the kindest, most thoughtful, honest, sincere, trustworthy and loyal human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Life would never be the same without you, and we are blessed beyond comprehension to have you as part of our family. We love you to the moon and back.” 


Nancy (and The Tribe) 

Perfectly stated.

Perfectly stated.

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