There is no friend like and old friend and aside from some even older friends, Kathryn is my oldest and best.
We met when I worked for her on some production or another. She had a production company that she owned with her husband, Randy. I liked Randy a lot, except to work with. She wound up not liking him to work with or as a husband, because they divorced a few years later. Still, they had a very cordial relationship through all the years afterwards. Randy just passed away but he spent his last days in her home, where she and their son cared for him. Family, no matter what, has always been important to her.
As a matter of fact, she’s like a sister to me, which is good thing for me and maybe not so good for her, because I have stayed at Kathryn’s house quite a bit during our years as friends. And when I say “stayed”, I mean lived there and when I say “quite a bit”, I mean years.
I don’t know why she still likes me.
She left Film Production to go into Real Estate, another great love of hers. She’s very good at it, and helped me get out of the Little House from Hell and into this nice house in Burbank, where I now live.
I think she worked so hard on my behalf because she was a little nervous I would end up back on her couch. During the last month in the little house from hell, it was a distinct possibility.
She’s a whiz with contracts and is kind and patient with all of her clients. Real Estate is a difficult business, with a lot of moving parts, so her background in film gave her a great foundation. Nothing has more moving parts than film, except maybe the military, which is what being part of a film crew can be like, except for the killing. Film crews aren’t allowed to do that. Union rules or something like that.
One of her other great loves and a great quirk, is clothing. I don’t think she has thrown or given anything away since she was 20. I don’t want to be rude, but that was a while ago. She tells me that if she waits long enough, it comes back into fashion and she’s right. It does and she looks great in it, again. And again. And again.
She has a lot of clothes. A lot. Sometimes, if she has run out of closet space, she will give me a bag to go through for myself. I haven’t had to buy anything new in 20 years and if we are out shopping together, I tell her I like something she is trying on, even if I don’t, because I want it and I know in time it might wind up in that bag she gives me.
Now that she knows that, I know she won’t like me anymore.
She’s now looking for a new house for herself, so if anyone knows of a house for sale that has a bedroom with a private bath and 30 or 40 closets, let me know and I’ll pass the info along.
Oh, and it doesn’t need a kitchen. At all. But that’s another quirk for another day.