It was just last month I was saying goodbye to my favorite new summer show, Lifetime's UnREAL, and welcoming back a favorite of mine from last season, USA's Playing House. Playing House is already ending its season tonight, too soon. You should watch.
When you look at current technologies, are there moments for you as a producer when you look back at your earlier records with Donna Summer, Blondie or David Bowie and others and say, "I wish we'd had this technology back then"?
Emily surprised me with a new plant on my birthday. We named her Federika. I thanked Emily a thousand times, all the while thinking, Holy, shit, if this thing dies I am totally f*cked. Please, God, don't let this f*cker die.
I am one of three people in this particular solar system who still send Christmas cards by post. The other two are 97-year-old female twins who never married and live in rural Wisconsin in the house they were born in. I am an anachronism. And happy to be.
Monday night on PBS, I sit down with two-time Grammy Award-winning, multi-platinum singer/songwriter Kenny Loggins, who stops by to talk about his new children's CD and picture book, Frosty the Snow Man.
I personally was saddened by the iconic producer/engineer/mastermind's recent passing not only because I kind of bonded with him during our two interviews together, but also because his sonic fingerprints are all over so much of the music I grew up on.
That's what I love about this moment. I see the names all linked for all time. There's my name right next to the name of the woman who became my wife in the middle of all this craziness. There's Kenny Loggins' name. Proof that he did indeed call one night with a "crazy idea."
When I was 12 years old, my grandmother used to say to me, "You keep singing, Little Girl, and you're gonna make it. I want to live long enough to see you on that 'Tonight Show' with Johnny Carson. OK?"
I've allowed myself this feeling only a few times in my life. It's a moment when suddenly, unexpectedly there is nothing to plan or do, and nothing to fear. All of life is distilled into here and now. I am no longer concerned about tomorrow. Everything I need is all around me.