Wilson Phillips- Passing the Torch

Troy and Chynna

As many of you know, my husband Troy has been in the band Wilson Phillips for about 6 years, playing keyboards and guitar, touring around the country and the world with them (and I often tag along). Last night was one of their rare Los Angeles performances so we gathered a group of friends and family and headed off for the Canyon Club in Agoura Hills. I was looking forward to a great night, but what I didn’t know was how deeply meaningful and poignant it would be.

Troy and I with our son Taylor and daughter Cristen

I felt incredibly lucky to witness a real magic between generations - a passing of the musical torch. First I witnessed it in my own family. Our two grown children Cristen and Taylor are both musicians and working in the music biz. Troy and I spent years as “band parents”, attending their shows, supporting their bands. But last night our kids got to see their Dad in his element. It was such a joy for me to watch them watching him, and the biggest thrill was to later see online how they had posted pictures of Troy on instagram with hashtags like #prouddaughter. Sigh…

If you aren’t familiar, Wilson Phillips is Carnie and Wendy Wilson and Chynna Phillips. Last year the girls had a big splash in the movie Bridesmaids, performing their hit song Hold On (the number one album of 1990, and the top selling female group of all time). They also recently released an album of covers of their parents music (the Beach Boys, and the Mamas and Papas).

Last night, as they performed the Mamas and Papas tune Dedicated, they brought Cass Elliot’s daughter Owen onstage to sing with them. When Owen let that voice of hers loose, it was as though Mama Cass was alive again and on the stage. The crowd went crazy. Even deeper was Michelle Phillips' reaction, throwing her arms in the air and letting out a cry. It was such a moving experience to watch Michelle (the only surviving member of the Mamas and Papas) witnessing her and John Phillips' daughter Chynna, and Mama Cass’ daughter Owen, bring their music alive again. I was choked up, and as I looked around the room I could see many others were, too.

But  the most emotional part of the evening for me was when the notoriously reclusive and troubled Brian Wilson showed up to watch his daughters perform – for the first time ever (a long complicated story). Carnie was nervous, not knowing if he would actually make it. I first spotted Brian, looking shy and overwhelmed, standing against a wall. He was seated with his wife and son in front of us, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he watched his daughters perform his songs. He was rapt the entire time, leaning forward, lazer focused on the girls as they performed those beautiful harmonies, parts he had arranged when he was so young. He looked mesmerized as Carnie sang lead on God Only Knows, then Wendy lead on Wouldn’t It Be Nice, and the three girls accapella on In My Room. I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind, what memories were conjured up. God only knows...

After the show I rushed backstage to tell Carnie and Wendy about Brian’s reaction, how he was so taken with them, so attentive to every musical moment. Their faces lit up, and Carnie’s eyes filled with tears. It was the first time, the FIRST TIME in twenty-three  years, that he had ever seen them perform. And they were carrying his torch…as Chynna carries John and Michelle’s, as Owen carries Cass Elliot's, as our own kids carry music on in their lives.

Chynna and Mama Michelle

Carnie, Brian and Wendy

Troy, me, Cristen and Taylor, passing the torch.

Even writing this now I am overwhelmed with emotion.

The only thing that would have made the night better is if Tori Spelling ( who was there with her husband Dean Mc Dermott, Carnie’s team mate on the Food Network show Rachael Vs Guy) hadn’t talked LOUDLY all through the girls accapella version of You Won’t See Me Cry. But even then, I thought of Tori carrying her own father’s TV legacy forward, and I softened toward her.

Overall it was a night I’ll not forget, a night that gave me much to ponder, and a night that made me very, very proud to be Troy Dexter’s wife. As Taylor said on instagram, #DadkilledIt.

FULL HOUSE at The Canyon Club

Thanks to everyone for showing up to support! Taylor, Wendy and Eddie and Dani and...

Todd Denise, Erin, Beth, Dani and Cristen- Thanks for being there to share a great night!

Owen Elliot joins Wilson Phillips to sing "Dedicated". My hubby Troy on B3 keyboards behind Wendy.

My Sideways Anniversary in Wine Country.

This week marks our 23rd anniversary (25 years together). Since Troy had a gig with Wilson Phillips in the Santa Ynez wine valley (where the movie Sideways was shot), we decided I'd tag along and make a mini-vacay out of it. We were to leave early Wednesday morning, but Tuesday night Evan developed a fever. After a bit of scrambling, and almost canceling the trip, thankfully our friends and our son Taylor stepped up to cover so we could go- and Evan's fever miraculously disappeared. 

From the moment we got to Santa Ynez, every morsel of food we put in our mouths was eye-rolling delicious…every wine we tasted was the best we’d ever had. I felt like Albert Brooks in Defending Your Life.

We stayed at the beautiful Hotel Corque in Solvang- a quaint little Danish town in the mountains above Santa Barbara. The next morning, we had the best Danish pancakes we’d ever tasted at Paula’s Pancakes, took a morning Jacuzzi, then spent the afternoon wine-tasting in Los Olivos, where we filled our senses sampling Danish cheeses, locally grown olives, organic local fruits and the most incredible wines we’d ever tasted (some of them over $100 a bottle)  ….I was in Heaven.

The Wilson Phillips gig Thursday night was fantastic. Several thousand people filled the venue. I was seated between Chynna’s hubby, Billy Baldwin, and Owen Elliott- Cass Elliott’s daughter. (I was ONE DEGREE OF SEPERATION away from Alec Baldwin, people. ONE DEGREE) During the Mama’s and Papa’s song “Dedicated”, Owen got up and sang her mother’s part and from the moment she opened her mouth, it was as if Mama Cass was alive again. Everyone had the chills. It was pretty special to see Chynna and Owen, daughters of the Mamas and Papas, singing their parents songs with Carnie and Wendy, daughters of the Beach Boys. The audience went nuts.

I was having the time of my life, dancing, cheering. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, I was woozy. I hadn’t had more than a glass of wine all day, but I felt lightheaded and nauseous. I headed for the exit to get some air, but before I could get out of the arena, I flat out fainted. The last thing I heard was the audience gasp. The next thing I knew the ushers were picking me up off the floor, my knees were bloody, and a team of EMT’s was whisking me away to a medical room in the casino, where I spent the rest of the show. It was one of the most bizarre things that’s ever happened to me and I still have no idea why it did. I mean it was a good show and all but...

Billy Baldwin was hosting a private party for the band and friends after the show (at a very swanky restaurant), and I was so bummed to miss it. Troy rushed me back to the hotel where I fell into a comatose 10-hour sleep. Anyhoo, I woke the next day feeling completely like my old self, so off to wine country we went!

“We are NOT drinking Merlot”

We just had to stop at the vineyard where the movie Sideways was shot, where we bought several bottles and YES, we did drink Merlot! While there, we were talking and joking with another couple, and lo and behold we find out the guy is Rex Smith- teen pop idol of the 70s. We had a great time swapping music biz stories with Rex and his wife Tracy, and drinking MERLOT, amongst other things. Troy and Rex talked about starting their own radio show, called “Rex and Dex in the Morning”. Whaddya think?

"What more can I saaaaayy, you take my breath awaaaay"

Rex Smith todaaaayyy

After another gorgeous sunny day eating and drinking in wine country, we headed home, spotting a herd of about thirty deer on the side of the highway, California condors circling overhead. Then as the 101 led us along the Pacific Ocean, we saw Pacific bottlenose dolphins breaching and playing in the waves.

All in all a pretty wild and wacky journey- and just like our marriage-  a few miracles, kismet moments and a little drama and mystery thrown in for good measure. Never a dull moment around here, I tell ya. I love my life with Troy- all 25 years of it. It’s been a rollercoaster ride and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. And at least there’s been Merlot.

Toasting the love of my life. 

And I'll leave you all with this...dedicated to my hubby. I couldn't say it any better so I'll hand this one over to Rex Smith. Rex- take it awaaaayyyy:

Aging is NOT for sissies

While I was in Pennsylvania, Amy and I went out for a nice dinner after a productive day of work. We were all dolled up, out on the town looking pretty cute, I thought. We were enjoying a glass of wine and some great conversation when the waitress stopped by the table to check on us.

We told her we were visiting from out of town and loved Bethlehem.

“So what brings you to our town?” she asked.

“Her husband is the guitar player in Wilson Phillips…” Amy began to say when the girl gasped and turned to me wide-eyed, “Oh my God, are you Michelle Phillips?”

I laughed but then realized she was serious. “No! Michelle is Chynna Phillips mother.” I said indignantly, certain she mixed up their names. But her expression didn’t change. 

I continued, “I’m Chynna’s age!” (okay, full disclosure, I’m five years older but still…), “Michelle is almost 70 years old…”

To which she replied, ‘Oh I know, she’s an old hag now!” (which she is not- she's still beautiful) 

My mouth hung open for a moment. “…and yet, you just mistook me for her.”

She shrugged, apparently oblivious to the fact that she had just insulted us on a myriad of levels. “You really do look like her, though.” She smiled and walked away.

I turned to look at Amy, who was equally horrified, “Oh. My. God.” she said.

I put my head in my hands, “Time for botox.”

Michelle Phillips - still gorgeous.

Aging is not fun, and like Bette Davis said, it’s not for sissies. Gone are the days when people expressed shock that I have a grandchild. I blame 2010. For a good ten years I looked 35, and then 2010 hit me upside the head. The stress levels were off the chart and my body took the hit. I tried my best to combat it; ate healthy, did yoga and ran on my treadmill, tried to meditate, used my Dior skincare religiously…but still, stress is one bas-ass mofo. The wrinkles and gray hairs attacked me at a dizzying pace.

So I had to suck it up that night, and take the punch. I’m getting older. People may sometimes mistake me for a seventy-year old woman. It happens.

I’ve never done anything to my face- no botox or fillers or surgery. I hope I don’t feel the need to as time goes on, but I don’t judge it. Mostly, I just want to stick to my guns about living honestly, and that includes my face. My face tells my story. I have lived forty eight years, raised three kids, a grandkid, survived the ups and downs of a passionate but at times tumultuous marriage, and had my share of hard knocks in life. It’s all here, in these lines…in the circles under my eyes, in the gray around my temples. I have four scars on my face from basal cell skin cancer, a reminder of the teen years I spent baking in the sun because I wanted to look like someone else.

The truth. Me- no make up, under terribly unflattering light.

I’m aging, and I think it’s nature’s way of saying, “Oh get over yourself.” So that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m still exercising and using good skincare, because I want to be healthy and take care of what I’ve got, but not because I’m fighting what is. I’m accepting the journey I’m on now. (Some days are better than others.)

You may think we stiffed that waitress. Nope. We gave her a really generous tip. We figured anyone that stupid is going to need all the help she can get. 

Grace in Bethlehem

December brings my birthday and the holidays. As a child, it was my favorite time of year, but these last ten years, being estranged from my family, I tend to get the blues. My sweet husband hangs Christmas lights and wears a Santa hat to cheer me up, and I do my best…focusing on the kids, playing Christmas music, making ornaments, baking cookies, watching my favorite holiday movies.

This year on my birthday, I would receive the greatest and most unexpected of gifts. I had just gotten back from a day of volunteer work, wrapping gifts for needy families. (I’ve found that the best cure for the blues is to get out of my own head and help someone else, so you see, I did this for completely selfish reasons.) I was unwinding after a long day when my brother Ted, who had flown in from Seattle, came walking up my stairs with a big red bow wrapped around him. My best friends Erin and Beth had picked him up from the airport and smuggled him in. Ted and I only found each other six years ago. We had lived a whole lifetime apart, and this was the first time I’d ever spent my birthday with him. We had dinner with my children that night, all of us together, laughing, celebrating. Six years ago, this was a scene I never could have imagined.

Several days later I was fortunate to tag along with Troy for a leg of the Wilson Phillips tour that took us to Pennsylvania, where my angel-friend and writing partner Amy Ferris lives. With our deadline looming, it was a perfect opportunity for Amy and I to buckle down and get some work done on our book “Dancing At The Shame Prom”.

I had my sleeves rolled up, ready to work. But what I didn’t expect was for those five days to be so inspired and spirit-filled. Walking in the brisk cold through Bethlehem at Christmas time was magical. Each street was lined with historic brick buildings, cobblestone churches, and graveyards dating back to the 1700s. Vendors sold handmade wares in their tiny Christmas Village. At night, candles glowed in every window of every house. And Bethlehem is where Amy and I sat together in an ancient haunted hotel, by a roaring fire and a glittering fifteen-foot Christmas tree, reading these heart-stopping, beautiful, honest, raw essays sent by our brave writers.

When someone chooses to open their heart and let you in, it is nothing short of a miracle. That’s what each writer has done for this book, and soon we will be able to share them with you. I felt so blessed to be midwifing this project, to be trusted with these intimate, courageous, hope-filled stories. How perfect that this book should be birthed in Bethlehem, during a time of hope and lovingkindness, by the sparkle of holiday lights.

I know it wasn’t the actual Bethlehem - just an old abandoned steel town in Pennsylvania - but I felt something magic there. Maybe I’m making too much of the connection – but I don’t think so. A blessing is a blessing, no matter where you find it. I found mine in the arms of my brother, and my friends, dancing and laughing with Troy, holding hands with Amy. And I experienced my true Christmas miracle through a bevy of beautiful writers, in the heart of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

The Great Escape....(hopefully)

The jackhammers have stilled, the sewage hauled away, court date with the awful neighbors - behind us. Tearful goodbyes were said this morning with the Japanese mother-in-law, Evan started summer camp, and I was looking forward to finally restoring a normal routine. Today I would be ALONE in my house for the first time since I could remember. I was giddy! My plan was to write from sunup to sundown, to catch up on all the time that had been sucked away.

Tomorrow we leave for Northern California for a much needed getaway. Let me rephrase that…desperately needed. My husband has a gig withWilson Phillips in Marin, so we get a beautiful all-expenses-paid hotel room for a couple days, then we head up with friends for Yosemite. Ah, nature, the great restorer of the spirit. I was counting the seconds until I could exhale …Goodbye stress, hello blissful 500 thread-count sheets, majestic waterfalls, and magnificent sunsets.

But wait! The Universe steps back in….not so fast, missy! Last night I woke to the sound of my terrier panting heavily, seemingly unable to move. She was lethargic and excessively thirsty. Needless to say, I kept vigil and got NO SLEEP. Got up this morning. She’s worse.

As I walk my dog into the vet’s office today, I can’t believe my eyes (but I believe my nose…) There are men with jackhammers and shovels right outside the front door – get this….putting in a new sewer. Oh my god - really???? REALLY? Is there NO ESCAPE?

So I’m writing this blog on my laptop in the vets waiting room, with the sound of jackhammers and the smell of sewage because, hey, that’s my life! As I wait for test results, my dream of Yosemite fades slowly from view….

Even though I’ve been griping a lot lately about the dramarama going on, believe me, in spite of it all, I am deeply grateful for my life. Not for a second do I take any of my blessings for granted. I love my work, I have amazing friends, an incredible husband and my kids are healthy and thriving…what else really matters? But oh how I dream of “boring”. “Humdrum” sounds enticing. Hell, I’d even settle for a rut. 

I recognize this intense chapter as a growth period. How could I ever find out who I am and where I stand if I wasn’t pushed to my human limits? If I had a cushy, easy going existence (oh god that sounds so dreamy...) I would never have to be strong or brave and I certainly wouldn’t have much to write about. People tell me “God never gives you more than you can handle”. Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that one before. I just wish “God” had a little less confidence in me.

Whatever comes, whether more doggie disasters or septic disasters, my husband and I will hold hands and walk through it. But honestly, if I don’t recharge my battery right now, it could get ugly. So I am declaring this and you are all my witnesses : My dog is going to be okay, and come hell or high water, I AM GOING ON THIS FREEKIN TRIP!

Hold on 500-thread-count sheets, I’m on my way!