The gown is back hanging in the closet. The pins are out of my hair instead of holding up my pseudo french twist. The jewelry is back inside its case. Instead of having a doorman open the door for me each time I entered or exited the hotel, I am now myself a doorman to the dogs’ in and out activities. Back to parking my own car instead of tossing the keys to the valet. Cooking my own meals instead of being waited upon. Pretty much back to normal.

We’re back, arriving home Sunday evening after a whirlwind weekend. Two days of which, I might add, were spent mostly in traveling from one point to another. I’m here to tell you that the three hour time difference is kicking my butt.

It went beautifully: from the smooth plane ride with extra leg room seats (and I had no where to put my dress? issues as they hung it for me), to the lovely suite in the Beverly Hills Wilshire, to my afternoon at the salon, the Academy Awards banquet itself, right down to another smooth plane ride home. Perfection!

Our hotel was a little on the pretentious side with lots of just as pretentious people walking around inside of it. Once I got used to it it was even kind of fun. I just adopted the same “I’m rich too” pretentious air and felt right at home.

The outside of the Wilshire.

As pretentious as the hotel was, the salon was very open and friendly. My hair dresser worked wonders with my short bob, magically transforming it into a french twist with lots of height. She was French and everything was chéri this and chéri that. Chéri, you will be magnifique! Chéri, alors, you need to be much blonder! Chéri, you need to grow your hair longer, to just here! (touching my shoulder) The make-up girl and manicurist were just as nice. My appointment was at 1:30 p.m. and I was finished (manicure and all) by 3:45. Once my nails were done (which were done last) the manicurist took me back over the make-up girl to brighten my lipstick to compliment my nails! They all made me feel beautiful and special. It’s their job I guess! It was pricey, but worth it.

Rick loved what they did and even though I thought it was elegant and under-stated it was more makeup than I am used to wearing. In fact, my “disguise” was so good that Donna (wife of one of the men receiving the award) did not recognize me and had to ask Rick where I was! Now, I don’t think I looked that different!

Here we are with the golden man.

I made Rick take a photo of this elderly woman. She was pushing a walker while holding on to her gin and tonic, her mink slung over the handles! Got to love her! Look at her pearls!

Here is the banquet room and our table.

The pre-dinner entertainment was Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. They won a Grammy a few years back for their song (which they sang that evening) “Falling Slowly” from the movie Once. They were so wonderful they brought tears to my eyes. Beautiful.

The presenter for the evening was Milla Jovovich and she immediately won me over when she put on her glasses to read the teleprompter. She did a great job with all the technical terms. Here she is with all the award winners.

There was also a pre-Grammy party going on in our hotel at the same time in the hotel lounge. Our room key would have gotten us in but after walking over there and seeing the crush of people and given the late hour we decided to not go. Walking in though, people were staring at us trying to figure out if we were “somebody” in our glammed up style! Hah! Since Whitney Houston had died that very same afternoon and was supposed to attend the party I’m sure the mood was somber. The Beverly Hilton was only a few blocks away from our hotel.

Everyone asks me if I met or saw anyone famous. I did get to meet and shake hands with several people on the Academy board and one man, Douglas Trumbull, who received a special award that evening. Mr. Trumbull did the special effects for a few films you might remember: 2001: A Space Odyssey and Close Encounters of the Third Kind to name only two.

Then there was the elevator encounter with “Bruce.” A casually dressed man joined us on the elevator and started talking about all the events taking place in the hotel and he mentioned the Academy Awards for that evening. We said we were attending and we talked a bit about that. He said something like “when I got my Grammy …” and “I told myself, Bruce, … “. We had no clue who he was. He got off on his floor, waved, and told us to enjoy ourselves that night. Huh. Bruce? Who?

I had a hunch that proved to be right. When we got home I googled “people named Bruce that won Grammys” and got what I wanted with the first hit. Bruce Johnston of the BEACH BOYS. This was him! What a nice man! If I had known I would have quipped something about not being a California Girl.

We did walk down Rodeo Drive on Saturday morning and then drove down to Venice Beach. I’ll be sharing some photos of that in the next few days. I don’t want this post to go on and on!

On Sunday we got up early and drove to the airport. I left my hair up since I was not looking forward to combing it out with all the hairspray and teasing and besides it still looked good. Well, guess what? I set off the metal detector at the airport because of all the pins in my hair and had to be hand-patted down. Then I got tested for bomb residue. Now, really! I’ll bet the only hand-patting down that Cinderella might have gotten was from Prince Charming.