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I've never been so thrilled with myself for saying no before in my life.  :)
"Babe, are you sure you don't want to head out now?  We'll find the bathroom on the way"
"Not a chance, we might miss this"
"What exactly re we going to be missing"
"I have no idea...but it's gonna be good"
And...it was.
AEROSMITH.   AEROSMITH and JOHNNY DEPP.  AEROSMITH IN HOLLYWOOD WITH JOHNNY DEPP...AND I GOT TO SEE IT!  BOOM.
The show over all was great.  As a fan of these guys, watching them in person rock out is always fantastic to see.  To hear?  Yes, of course, it's rock and roll baby c'mon!  But these boys are more than typical rock, these men are rock solid.  They have tunes that people have loved since before I was even born.  It's always made me wonder though, how come they all seem to be aging appropriately, except for Joe Perry?  Don't get me wrong, they aren't drastically horrifying to look at, Steven Tylers had his share of "work done", he's also been to hell and back, along with the rest of them, with regard to drugs and alcohol.  But Joe just looks good.   He doesn't have a stupid crows foot.  And he also doesn't look pumped full of botox...and yes, even I've done that once or twice.  But really and truly, he looks good.   And not "for his age".  He looks like he did thirty years ago.  Maybe not as sickly, as again, addictions can certainly make one look ill.  So anyway, when at the very last second, Steven Tyler announced something about hearing that Depp was "in the house", I just about fell off the chair...that at five feet tall, I was standing on.  Well holy shitstix in heaven...Johnny Depp came out to jam.  With the already awesome energy of Aerosmith.  And I was there to see it.  I think I can almost die happy now.  If Slash was there too, I'd be buried already.  :)
Peace, Love, Rock On.  Mel

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Here's a thought provoking twist in everyday fate.    
The baby gets away with everything.  
It's assumed the youngest family member lives on Easy Street...  But what happens when the baby grows up?
I've been sitting here since 8:45 pm.    As a child, I'd say a prayer every night, to please let me die first.     Ironically being the oldest, I'm not nearly tough enough to ever be the baby.    Even now, the first thing I say every night, is a prayer to please let me die first.   I'm supposed to, because I'm the oldest.    
Yesterday evening,  I saw pain in the eyes of a grown up "baby".  She's the youngest of four girls, and a boy.  After decades of four sisters strong, three have died just this year.  
The baby suffering today, is a girl I'd give my own heart too.   My mothers mother.   My first ever best friend.    Needless to say, we hold a strong bond, one that'll never be broken.  It's selfish I can't seem to steady myself, but the intention is kind I guess?  
The baby doesn't have it easy.

The baby endures pain like no other must.
The baby brings centuries of family together, and reminds us where we've come from.  It's through her, that a hundred years from now, none of us will  be forgotten.   Stories become legends, and laughter and love, and so often it starts, with the baby.


Quite Kindly,

M



~ A ~ E ~ B ~

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  Yesterday I got a check in from Green Eyes.   In response to a post on some social media something somewhere not in the land of OZ, was the following.
ME:  Tell the mess of a mind your waiting for, that this is you, and you don't wait.  Done.
G.EYES:  Perfect...You're so right.
ME:  Duh.
(Yes, I actually, for the first time in my life, said duh).
G.EYES:  You're actually a pretty good adviser...Maybe you should be an agent/writer!
ME:  I can do anything Mr.(Green Eyes) ~ but you know that already, otherwise you'd not be wasting time on me.
G.EYES:  True enough...Keep writing!

Truly, have I ever really not?

FYI, because it's my blog and I can.  
On a plane, if you don't put your oxygen mask on first, you'll pass out, and be worthless to everybody else.   The healthier you are, the more you have to offer.  

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Part of my "assignment" from Green Eyes, is to continue blogging.    So, hello world, how is today?  Oh me?  I'm doing lovely thank you, just trying not to melt.  My aches from falling last week, are completely gone.  Of course they've been replaced because when do I take it easy?  Right, so I decided to re-arrange my studio, by myself, moving antique wooden furniture with my own two, small,but strong, hands.   As of last night, my neck down hates me.  Again though, this is me, I'll figure it out.   I always do.  Oh yes, and I have a brand new friend...his name is Tyler, and he's a giant lizard that hangs out at the window  here.  I think he's trying to grow himself into the size of the wooden crocodile that's currently guarding my house.   The last several days, have been a little hazy, I'm tired, and typing non stop.  But better be busy than bored I suppose.
Peacocks, Coyotes, and Lizards...  Oh My.
Quite Kindly,
Achey, but Smiling
Mell

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Willing the floorboards to buckle, seemed appropriate, after falling so far from grace.

Green Eyes, while gorgeous, turned out to be a gentleman.   He was genuine, even concerned, offering to help me up. 

Up, because finding yourself at the bottom, it’s the only direction to go. 

After the momentary lapse of consciousness, I stood.  He gave me a hug instead of a handshake, then for a solid two hours, advised me, informed me, and explained the tools I would need, to move forward.  It wasn’t the most eloquent of introductions, but where’s the fun in that?    The jeans, my nerves, and my doe eyes are all simply part of my charm. 

Boom. 

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I wanted to launch myself clear through the roof.

Next mess.

The severity of my ridiculous “slip”, decided to educate the rest of me, at the very moment my jaw suddenly felt it imperative to dive into my ankles.    Not wanting to miss out on the fun, my vocal cords ran for the hills, after packing up any pounce of vocabulary.     I might have pulled a simple “hi” out of the air, had my arms not fallen out of the sockets, now missing from the general shoulder area, all the while my hands wondered aimlessly in ignorant bliss.  My spleen was still MIA,  my neck was laughing so hard at the rest of me, that my head was now on it’s own, balloon like, floating around in the room.  I think.  

My remaining parts were screaming in pain (fucking slip), except for my eyes that had fallen from grace just before the rest of my body abandoned shop.

Bye Boom.

Tall, devastatingly handsome, stellar in form, styled to perfection, and  quite possibly amused at my current state of profound stupidity, he stood there.   And I was there.    And my ass was, stuck to the chair.  Shoot.

Boom gone.

This epic masterpiece of a man, surpassed anything even G.Q. might dream up.   His eyes, I credit with unraveling the cellular structure of anything in a six mile radius.  Green, piercing, vivacious, they were fascinating, and curious, wildly strong and dancing with wisdom.   Electricity poured out of those eyes.  

Him who was there to meet … me?  In a sweatshirt?  Oh fuck fuck and double fuckstix.  Shit.  To my defense, the sweater, cost more alone, than the jeans, Uggs and tee combined.  Boom a little?  No.  Really not. 

My sisters voice rang through my ears.  Oh ears!  Yay they still worked! 

“When have you not gotten whatever you wanted?  Your there, go get it”.    My sister, a force of natural intelligence you do not want to fuck with.    “Go get it”.

I’ll try.

Boom… A little.

Quite Kindly,

And determined to find boom,

Me. 

PS- Peanuts. 

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Staring at denim covered knee caps, I suddenly felt like Andy.    The interview-esque meeting wasn’t for Runway, and Prada isn’t intimidating.  Still, that last minute “oh fuckstix what did I do” feeling sunk in...hard.  Shit.   I thought I’d swallowed my spleen.

As usual, in traditional me fashion, moxie came back, swept through the scene, and set the stage.

A divine little coffee house, near the water, in the town I was born in.   No worries.

So, eco- happy gift bag (olive branch)on the empty wooden table.  Black (lunch-box) “work bag” on the chair to my left.  Classic Chanel quilted tan bag, with leather and silver handle displaying appropriately (but subtly) the CC logo.  And me.  Honestly, un sure any meeting would really happen,  with knees tucked to chin. 

Jeans, Uggs, Def Leppard concert tee, (washed out and black), a diamond ring set on one hand, aqua and topaz design on the other and my ipad nestled on top.   Breathing is a must if one hopes to accomplish life let alone a may be interview-esque meeting.

I dropped my pen in the dirt when I slipped on my way out the door this morning.   Fuckstix.  I can’t sketch?  Oh holy hell I can’t even write.  Of all the times in my life, TODAY I don’t have a writing utensil, really?  SERIOUSLY?!  Wait, don’t panic … type darling.  Bingo.  

Scene set, let’s see what I have to say.

I'm waiting for somebody.  I’m good with people, even the most obnoxious excuse for one, yet here I am, starting to quake like a sitting duck.  Fuck.  I don’t remember the moment I swallowed my spleen, but I absolutely have.  It isn’t necessarily him that’s flipped my spinal column upside down, rather it’s what he represents (potentially).   Probably.  It’s very likely this man is the beginning of my next chapter.   

So what do I represent?  I’m shy, but I’m here.  Strength.  My legs are jelly, but I’m here.  Confidence.  Snagging an hour of this man’s precious time?  Courage, balls and audacity.  Nice Mell!

A musician, business man, cool guy, great husband, dad of the century  etc etc etc.  Today, to me he's a well respected, writer.   Ambitious.   A get up and make it work man.  Though it isn’t about money, it’s about credit where such is due.   It’s taken almost a year.   E-mails, voice mails, a text here and there, matched on both his side and mine, accompanied by my sweet natured get up and go, have resulted in now.    I hope? 

Yesterday “the” song came on.  It’s on my iPod, but I kid you not, it disappears from time to time.  At seemingly random moments it plays.  Startling me, yet teaching me timing.  I pulled into the driveway, hopped (literally) out of my Jeep, then calmly but with intention, I sat down, counted to ten, and sent the following message.

“You don’t have to get me a job.  I’ll do that.  And you don’t need a sob story, but you’ll kick yourself hard if you pass on mine.  Confidence is as much a virtue as patience.  (This I know)  Lucky for you, I don’t have anybody else smart enough (or worth said patience) to hound.  So, bark.”

Less than a second later, he called and said he’s coming to LA.   Stay smart Melissa.  “When?”.  Tomorrow he replied.  Shit shit shit… “What time do you arrive, I’ll be at the airport.”  I’m sorry who jumped in and took over my vocal cords??  How …assertive?  Whoa.  Wow.  Go little Meliss.   The kicker is he didn’t argue.  He didn’t?  Really?  Nope.  I didn’t give him the chance.  He told me the ETA, and the last words were mine.  “I’ll see you when you land”. 

Boom!  (did I mention the silent fist punch into the air?   There may have also been a cartwheel)

Sans sleep, I unraveled myself from the sheets, showered etc, then put myself together, looked ok (all things considered don’t ask), and … that’s when I lost my pen.   It wasn’t a  “slip”, I kind of passed out-ish.   Boom indeed.

Found a handful of pride hanging on a near bye tree branch, went back inside, ate something, drank a Vitamin Water, dusted myself off, jumped into jeans, and transformed back to the real me. 

In this technological world of apps up and out the wazoo, the only meaningful energy source has dwindled it’s way down, to me. 

My sisters just called.  "Don't be nervous.  Well c'mon, it's you. 

When have you not gotten whatever you wanted?  Your there, go get it". 

#NuffSaid

Quite Kindly,

Possibly lacking a spleen, but not on my knees and fully clothed,

Me.  Little…But Oh My Indeed. 

iHope

PS – He just walked in.  Crimany, I’ve forgotten how to speak.

Twitter:ohmymelli So many times, I've wanted to call him on it. Literally just call him right up and ask flat out. " What in the hell were you thinking!!???". Though the thought is knocked clear across the room by logic. If I did that, alarm bells would ring, lights would flash red, sirens would sound... It would not be good. His fear is worse than mine. Only he has absolutely no idea...At all...About any of it. My own clarification is recent. The extent of it rather. I suppose the only person that kept me in the dark, well, was me. It's human nature. Survival instincts. I have two kids that make my world spin. And for them, I cannot let the monster from my childhood free. For them, I'm in automatic survival mommy mode. How could I possibly keep them safe if I'm not safe? Right I can't. So the bigger question becomes, how do I get me safe? Each time I sit down to type this, a new set of questions unravels. It's like in the cartoons, one of those never ending scrolls. 1) How come nobody knew this was happening? That's the #2. 2) If they were truly medically certified, how come nobody told me this was happening? That's the next #2. 3) 2+2=??? Right. It equals #4. So then why in the world did I not say anything? Honestly you still don't know? I said it already. THE CARDINAL RULE OF BEING A FUNCTIONING HUMAN BEING??? SURVIVAL INSTINCT. And I'll tell you in truth, once the files of my mind were so violently shaken out of order, (car accident) in my efforts to survive, as something other than a vegetable, it is again up to only me, to sort through the mess, and clean it the fuck out. Not to mention the fact that it's all way beyond terrifyingly disturbing. I've found myself understanding things that hit me so hard, like the pieces of stories, movies, etc, that've stuck for seemingly no reason at all. The growing comprehension of who I am, is crystallizing, and kind of remarkable really. The trauma though is vicious. Every beautifully painted masterpiece I'm able to hang back up on the wall, is in combination with a heinous cobweb. I'll figure it out though. I always do. To whomever is reading this, while I'm not in any way, shape, or form, yours, I do thank you quite kindly. Melissa... Oh My.

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Am I ‘eccentric”?  Maybe.  Do I get points for admitting it?  Yes.

Everyday, after school, I’d look up into the sky ~ and plead for stupidity to reign down on me, for ignorance to take over my mind, and for shallow, lackluster  emotion, to encompass my very being.  Please.  I beg you ~ help me be a dumb ass. 

Despite being able to always, (indeed I do mean ALL WAYS, ALWAYS, and IN EVERY WHICH WAY POSSIBLE), figure out how get exactly what I (or another) wanted or needed, the whole, being a crack head, wasn’t something I could manifest.   I’m not a stupid idiot.  Unfortunately, my demise is my kind heartedness.

The me that lures the world into my arms, is the me I’d run far away from at a moments notice.  

“Compassion is stellar in it’s frantic, yet seductive, creation of pain”. 

"If It Aint Broke ~ Don't Fix It". But what if it sucks?

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"If it aint broke ~ don't fix it"... but what if "it" sucks?
     
         In "The Devil Wears Prada", Meryl Streep states simply "That's all".   Despite the calm,  even civilized tone of her voice, you can't help suddenly feeling like a giant, wrought iron, gate has been shut, locked in twelve places, and will forever remain so.  The possibility for other opportunities is struck down, and upon hearing either of the above statements, most will continue going through life's motions ~ with no emotion at all.   So what if it's not broken?  What if it sucks, or it's too large, or too small?  "Just because it isn't broken, doesn't mean it's working properly for YOU".   The question transforms then into a choice.  Your choice in which you give yourself the right to seek out something better.  My jeans don't fit properly, they aren't torn, old, too big or small, they just don't fit.
        SELL THEM, TOSS THEM, GIVE THEM AWAY ~ AND GET YOURSELF A PAIR THAT WORKS
 "If it aint broke ~ don't fix it".    If truly it sucks though, figure out how to change it.

Stay alive, stay passionate, be safe, respect yourself, and don't ever tell anybody to kiss your ass ~ don't give them the pleasure.
Quite Kindly,
       Melissa
    

Helicopters are from Mars.

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HELICOPTERS ARE FROM MARS, AIRPLANES ARE FROM VENUS.

Airplane #1
"I'm so so so going to be so so mad in about two minutes!!!"

Airplane #2
"Oh tell me he didn't say something about your wingspan ~Again?!?"

Airplane #1
"He so totally did!! As a kind of a lift off before work to make me smile he said. I'm sorry make me SMILE??!! Is he kidding me are you serious? Am I being stupid or am I right in being so friggin upset?"

Airplane #2
" Woman I can see the smoke starting to come outta your engines. You better relax before you full on take off. Although man the wingspan...AGAIN? Yeah girl I'm with you...what an bunch of useless metal!"

Airplane #1
"He is so going down I'm done that's it...what an ass!!!".

Airplane #2
"Be careful sweetie... Fly safe I'm with you in spirit. In hanger 6 when you get back..."

Airplane #1
Screaming as she hustles down the runway. "that good for nothin metal madness ... What'd I ever see in him anyways...oh my gosh what was I thinking...ok ok ok deep breathing..."
Calms down...wheels gracefully glide upward and take their place in her belly.

Helicopter #1
"Dude you really me turned her wingspan again? Youn going down today you mow that right?"

Helicopter #2
"Cheers to another day off in the clouds bro! Later!". Sun is out, slight ocean breeze, he lifts off, without any drama, and goes about his day. ;)

I rest my case. I much prefer the helicopters. Or more accurately, (an exception holds true for every rule) I prefer the "Mellicopter". No drama, no extra nonsense... Just get up and go go juice.

Chateau My Melli ~ Hoot N' Anny Home

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               And...Fire, Ready, Aim!  Kaboom!   I waved my wand and "poof" we're in the new house, I have a new Studio space...and already, puzzle piece's that've  so very long been absent, have begun to sneak into their proper places.   I've somewhat drifted into the enchanting air that has encompassed this house.     It's completely intoxicating.   While getting up in the morning is easy,  forcing myself to leave  has become ridiculously difficult. 
               There is a shop my sister discovered, one truly unique in it's atmosphere.  It's an antique shop...but there is no clutter.  There is a sense of something wonderful that calls silently to you the moment you open the door.  It's fantastically creative, yet it's one hundred percent logical, and every piece, every display, each table top is perfectly functional.  The kicker here, is the owner.  This woman is like a fairy godmother...   She can literally wave a wand, snap her fingers, say boo, and in ten minutes, she'll either completely transform your space, or tell you exactly how it can be done.  Your style, your desire, and even your budget.   She's creatively witty and quicker on her toes than a cheetah.  She just moves.  She's stealthy in her calm ways.  Things all of a sudden look different but more so, the entire space, from a tiny bathroom to a giant ballroom, will feel different.  The mood is different.  It's soothing, yet workable.  It's been said that artists look like their subjects.  They bare a resemblance of sorts.  They bring forward their own energy into whatever it is they are using it toward.  When Jennifer uses this outrageous talent, naturally,  the air will feel  different.  Better.  More relaxed.  You will feel and be, more composed, more capable, and more productive.   The most fun part is the glow you'll absentmindedly carry around with you.  It's truly like magic has happened.     So, I bought one book from her, and went back every day for the next three weeks.  It's like a sweet siren this store.  You should absolutely take a peek.  www.HootNannyHome.com is the site.  The store is in Southern California, so if your around, give Jennifer a call, and see...Trust me.  ;)  (818) 575-9011.
Below is a handful of photos.  The first set are a combination of pieces from Hoot N Anny and yours truly.

This second set is just a handful of sketches I felt like sharing... Also the first few I've done in my new Studio.

The next handful are just me...before, during and after the move.  :)
First one...ok deep breath...

Next one, I'm almost done packing...So close!

And last one, I'm here!  Totally wiped out...not nearly done unpacking...pre-Jennifer :)

On that Pearl of wisdom...Good night, Dream sweetly, Good morning, it's ten after four here...oops.
Quite Kindly, Meliss

Roxy, Reagan, and jeans...because I can.

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    "That one, " he stated, quite obviously, pointing to me.  " The little one in the silver top".  His friends all looked.  "She's the cutie".    He continued.  "See the one's behind her though ... those are the hotties".    The Roxy on it's way to closing this past Saturday night/Sunday Morning.   "The little one's got a gorgeous face... her body could be cool, but she's in jeans".     Between the brilliance of his mind,  lack of functioning brain to mouth filtration system, and the slight buzz, it would in fact seem, this guy had been honest in sharing (loudly) his opinion.    As approved by his friends,  I'm little, cute, and have a gorgeous face in jeans.  Mini skirt and tube top?  You couldn't pay me.  Why?  Because I can do it in jeans.
    That night, lead singer, Reagan Browne wore a pendant I made for him.  On stage.  At the Roxy.  On THE Sunset strip.  In Hollywood.   Rock on.

Check out ReaganBrowne.com  

Kelsey G. meets Melli D...

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       It's Christmas Eve, and the fifth night of Hannukah...almost.     The "holiday season".    Today, the "Magic" wasn't about the holidays though.  

      "Oh hey, he's here again".  Sitting outside a local cafe, I looked up.  The "he" being referred to was Kelsey Grammer.   Somebody I will always remember as Dr. Frasier Crane.  

      With it’s spot on timing, quick wit, and Ivy League vocabulary, Frasier will remain forever, fantastic.  The uncanny ability to cause laughter from a simple raising of one’s eyebrow, is nothing less than…well…magic.  ;)  Though the characters themselves had OCD beyond many of our wildest dreams, it was somehow endearing, and wildly addictive.  The charm in the series was, and remains, one of a kind.  FYI: I happen to be exceedingly picky in what I would refer to as “funny”. 

        Two weeks ago, out of the tiniest corner of my eye, I noticed a side view of him.   When your out about town, and you see “somebody” even if you don’t know exactly who he or she is, there’s that sparkle, the energy that surrounds him or her?  Something, right?  For me, it’s a tingle in my tummy.  After hearing various rumors about his possible personality, I’m ashamed to say the idea of seeing him was preposterous, he probably hired people to do everything right?  Wrong!   Twice more that same day, we had Kelsey sightings.  Holy smokestacks…REALLY???

        So then, today, after hearing the hushed “Oh hey”, I decided what the hell.  I set my coffee down, and went into the shop he’d gone into.  Shaking.  As luck would have it, he’d put his head down, glasses on, and was obviously looking to NOT be interrupted.  Hi though, remember?  This is me here!  

        In my very small voice, in a language I can only hope was English, I went right up and said “Pardon me, Mr.Grammer”?  For a split second I felt disheveled and completely blank as to who I was, where I was, and whose feet I might have been standing on…  He looked down, oh yes, he is THAT tall, and when he saw me, ( cartwheels, cartwheels, cartwheels) he smiled!  I died.  He said something polite, “Yes, hello…”  Oh my heavens, somehow, a light must have shone down on me because suddenly, I had balls.  I put my hand straight out to shake his, and introduced myself, calmly, rationally, yet still soft spoken.  And he was SOOOO nice!   After telling him I’d always adored watching Frasier, in just a couple of sentences, he actually thanked me for taking the time to stop him and say hi! 

         Ok, yes, he has a new show out, he wants to look good, he has to protect his image…oh bologna.  Sometimes you just know right?   This man was sincerely being nice to me.  Kind even, and not in a creepy I want your body way.  Genuinely smiling, and I was out of my mind stoked!

     Walking briskly so as not to actually be bouncing until I was out of sight, I got to the door…almost.  I grabbed a business card, and ran back over…this time, a bit out of breath, and told him I make custom jewelry, and after “gifting” so many piece’s to who knows where, I’d be more than happy to make something for him, as of course, he played one of my most favorite characters, and turned out to be a really delightful man. 

       TO DO LIST:

       GET NEW BUSINESS CARDS.

       PUT WARDROBE ON THEM.

       ADD MENS CUSTOM PHOTO’S TO WEBSITE.

       BREATHE.

       LEARN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE…AGAIN.

     There is an enchantment about Hollywood.   Being made to feel stupid, or intrusive or un-welcome upon meeting a celebrity whom you adore, is embarrassing, annoying, and humiliating I’d imagine.  Having the opposite experience, especially with somebody whose reputation your uncertain of…  Now THAT is the real “Magic of Hollywood”.  A tip to anybody reading this…be nice, it doesn’t always hurt.  And to Mr.Grammer, if ever you do cross this posting, I thank you quite kindly for being such a gentleman.

       Merry Merry Christmas Cherry, and Happy Fifth Night of Lights...(although now it's far past midnight, and so closing in on the sixth)

               Quite Kindly, Mell

      

Sour Patch Kids, Two Secrets, and an Apple a Day. ;)

melli@melliinc.com

 "SourPatch Kids" mark the spot.   The sweet and the sour that together, make up life.
       Sweet Secret:  It's always fascinated and elated me, to open the pages of a high end fashion magazine, and see the ad's, designs, colors, even the people, that a year prior, I knew would be there.
       I cannot see dead people...but if you needed me to pull together a collection, say for a new TV show...and have it ready tomorrow, and have it air a year from now... I't'd be nothing less than a straight on bulls eye.
       Sour Secret:  I'm really and truly kick-ass fantastic at getting it done right.  Ten minutes, ten actors, ten ill-fitting ball~gowns?  Bring it.  It's sour because it's not something "I want", rather it's something I'm good at, passionate about, and quite frankly, "I need".
       There you have it, apparently, I'm a Sour Patch Kid.
       A very well respected member of the community who, interestingly enough, is not on the way into, or out of jail, said something today that provoked me into sharing the above secrets, and below photo's.       After speaking with a very "big deal dude" at CBS, she gave me the advice he'd passed along.  "Get as much work as you can and buff up a resume".     Wow...such insight...this guy certainly eats his apple a day.
        I do apologize.  I adore, and respect greatly this woman, but am beginning to understand why this man has gotten the reputation of being an idiotic jack-ass.
       
         FYI: She did not tell me her friend's name, it's just my own gut feeling that  it was this particular man.
           I'd barely rang the bell this afternoon when she asked if I'd seen...and I cut her off.  "The Prada ad in Harpers?  Yeah I know.  The roses right?  Did you see the other ones, with the pearls? "  I'm not sure it's "allowed" to put up other designers' ads.  Therefor, YOU HAVE HOMEWORK.  ;)  Look at Chanel's Winter 2011/2012 collection online, Dior, Lanvin (try the Bergdorf's site)  and the November or December issue of Harpers Bazaar.  Oh!  And the January (I think) issue of Nylon Magazine too.  Pretty please, and thank you quite kindly ;)   Then take a look at these:

Quite Kindly,
Mell


66/50

A letter to the class.

melli@melliinc.com

"When Life Gives You Lemons... Use Them Wisely"  ;)

Dear First Grade Families, 

Remember in high school, those awful dreams where we'd accidentally come to school in our undies?  Yeah that's about how I feel right now.  :)  Because of your incredible kindness, I've decided to write this letter.    Just hang in here with me for a minute.  Pretty please, and thank you quite kindly.  

As parents,we want to watch our children smile, be healthy, happy and successful in all that they do.  For my Josh and his very young reputation, I'm telling you my story.  

Please accept my sincerest apologies for all the birthday parties, school events, family days and even just day to day "things" that we've missed... And that I myself have.   Most of you know, a year ago (September) I was in a monstrous car accident.  After being air-lifted to UCLA Trauma, it was discovered that I'd suffered massive brain trauma, but nobody could say how exactly that would impact me, or my family.   Often people ask how the recovery is, how am I feeling, how are the memory issues etc.  I've tried to politely reply to every body that I'm getting better, things are good and so on.  To be honest, it was just about six weeks ago, my Dr. FINALLY said it seemed my feet were finding their way back down to earth.  

I slur my words still if I'm tired, I fall down stairs regularly,  I've lost enormous chunks of my memory, and my vocabulary  (or lack there of)  is a constant battle and embarrassment.  They are all things I'm valiantly working on.  

Sitting and typing this, I'm reminded of so many people I owe calls too, piece's too, donations for school things...Gosh I am so very sorry to you and your families.  My heart is in the right place and my head is getting back to it...for real.  

IF there are any out-standing events I've been MIA for, please PLEASE call me, ask me, or leave me a note.  I want so much to be here, and to help wherever I can, and anybody that needs it.   And I value all of you so much.  It's a fantastic group of  people that make up our current class, and it's an honor to be apart of it.  So please pardon my seemingly obnoxious behavior, and know that going into the New Year, each of you is in my prayers for all good things.  

Thank you for your time, and everything else you've all offered.  While I may not remember it right away, I can assure you, the sweetness of first grade will never be forgotten.    

PS~ As I'm still me for the moment, if I've missed any e-mails, would you be so generous as to pass this along?  :)

Quite Kindly,

Mell

A Poem by Yours Truly

melli@melliinc.com

The wind begins blowing

As dusk rolls in

For many an ending is near

My energy takes over

At about this time

For no longer do I hold fear

As darkness come strong

Night chills come along

Many people will soon take cover

When the light is no more

Shut goes the door

For me though now magic does hover

Sassy, Classy, & Sweetly Crassy...

melli@melliinc.com

Sassy, Classy, & Sweetly Crassy...The Magic of Melli...Oh My.


                                "Where there is PASSION, anything is possible.  
The world seems to be catching on not only to my talents, but to my passion.  I can make jewelry for any person, any style any time in any price range.  I can pull a photo shoot out from where the sun don't shine in no seconds flat.  I can figure out the make-up easily.  I don't panic on set.  I can take direction and I can give direction properly.   I can figure it out, whatever it is, whenever it needs to be figured out...silently even.  I'm good.  I've got "it" and I'm good.  The world is beginning to understand that about me.  Where there is Melli, there is intensely sweet, classy, sassy, quiet and sometimes crassy, passion".    

XOXO Murphy, Tilton & The Men's Varsity Basketball Team. ;)

melli@melliinc.com
twitter:melliohmy


Can I just say, Melli's got some major moxie...

Mr.Murphy and Mr.Tilton .  Two gigantic contributor’s to me being ME.  In some really ridiculous, muscle building, and fantabulous ways.   

It wasn’t unusual to find me digging through the props room.  I was the “stage manager”.  In  high school, this meant I was also the make-up artist, the costumer, the props darling etc etc etc.   And that was all fine by me!!!  A best friend (to this day) is  Benjamin.  He and I regularly stayed in that theatre painting sets far past our required dorm check-in time, and even past the official lights out time.  We had a blast.  I loved that theatre.  I love theatre as a general statement.  It’s magic of course, as so many sets are.  The following story occurred one chilly weekend afternoon, when the school was quite possibly empty.   And likely, so was the town.  At boarding school in the middle of the most beautiful part of New England, when it was quiet, it was dead silent.    So I’m digging alone, through the boxes…I knew the picture frame was there, as I’m the one that had put it back the previous morning.  When all of a sudden…

MURPHY:  Stomping up onto the stage, “Where in the hell is Mell???!!!   Dammit this was supposed to be done yesterday!  No, actually this was supposed to be done last week!   Christ.  Melissa??!!!!!"

ME: Scrambling myself up the steps, I replied sweetly as always.  “Morning Murphy…what can I do for you?”

MURPHY: Pivoting swiftly but with great balance, “ Why is THAT piano not on THIS stage?  I asked you to get it done two weeks ago!”  Despite him and I being in that very theatre, everyday for the last month, and him insisting he’d get some help and do it himself…I replied with  a steady voice to counter his furious one.

ME:” I’ll go find some help right now.  I’ll be honest though, there aren’t many people around…can you check for sta…”

MURPHY:” JUST DO IT!!!”   Well then.  

ME: “Ok Murph, I’ll see who I can wrangle up”…   Shit.  There really wasn’t anybody on campus…I debated even knocking on doors…but I didn’t have time for that.  So off I went…running through the theatres entrance, and then through the student lounge, and the cafeteria.   I was on a mission…maybe not from God, but from Murphy…and anybody with half a brain, knew that he was capable of being much worse…and still he’s the BEST!!!   Ok so anyway, I’m running…fast…just as I’m losing my own temper, I saw a couple guys walking up the back path…” Hey you!!!   I need your help in the theatre!!!   Please seriously, Murphy’s going to kill me …and I’ll do your laundry all week!!!”   They grumbled something, and seeing as they were nice though not large, they made their way into the theatre.  While I popped my head into yet another empty room upstairs…I heard Morgan yelling.

MURPHY:”Is she kidding me?   I don’t know you tell me, can the two of you lift that piano up onto the stage?  Because I’ve gotta tell ya at this point, I’m thinking of pre-recording the damn music” 

ME:”Fuck”…   Just as I bounced toward the next room I heard another sound.  It was a booming voice…but with a different strength.  “Oh you’ve got to be mother fucking kidding me NO WAY!”  This all from me, I didn’t swear, I did skip class but only because it was insanely difficult.  Never did drugs, never smoked, was a pretty good little thing in comparison.   So Murph is still shouting blah blah blah…   whatever whatever whatever…amd boom.  My saving grace.  TILTON!!!!!!!   Mr.T!!!   Seriously, my savior…and history teacher.  I ran up to him beyond breathless…

TILTON:  “ Miss Melissa…what brings you up here today…don’t tell me one of these guys is yours?  Athletes are trouble you know…”  He smirked and gosh what a guy!

ME:  “Hi, haha no, not any of your boys don’t worry.  I need a HUGE favor…and one day I’ll re-pay you…no idea how, but I might not live to figure it out if you don’t help me.”   A minute later, he blew his whistle.  LOUD!

TILTON: “BOYS!  Listen up!  Miss Melissa has a favor and your ALL going to help her! “  He looked at me and nodded to “the boys”.  Mind you at 61 inches with my head held up straight, these “boys” were all at least a foot taller than me…more like two.  The Men’s Varsity Basketball Team. 

ME:” Ok guys, I need help…let’s move!”  He blew the whistle again and yelled “GO” and it took every cell in my being to not jump higher than the gym ceiling and crack my skull…but I didn’t…I kept my cool.  How?  No friggin idea.  The two minutes it took us to walk ( single file) from the gym to the theatre had my heart thundering in my chest harder than any New England storm.  Really.  The pride I felt when I opened the theatre door, and saw the look on the three other people’s faces?  Now THAT was unbelievable.   “Hey Morgan.  Got some help…these guys should be able to do it.”  Don’t forget single file.   Because of the shading of the glass doors, it wasn’t until I moved aside that he could see them start filing in…dunking their heads as they walked through the door way.    TRIUMPH!!!!!   HA!!!

MURPHY:” Wow…Meliss…Wow.  This is unreal.  Your amazing.  You got Tilton to let these guys go?  Melissa how did you do that?  I’m…” he continued to stare back and forth at them and me in total shock.  Not awe, but shock.  Oh yes, Melli’s got MOXIE times ten!   So the team proceeded to move the piano from the pit, to the stage.  It took them all of thirty seconds, and not a scratch.  One day, I really should find those guys and thank them with something awesome…a pendent or something.  And one day, when I’m hugely successful, I FULLY intend too.