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I am a social psychologist whose area of interest is family relationships, boundaries, and intergenerational connections - specifically, between paren...
 
 
 
 

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An Excerpt from "Sugar Time," a new novel by Jane Adams available soon from amazon.com!

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 You know you've become a woman of a certain age when the anxiety dream about oversleeping your SAT's turns into the one about being a middle class bag lady.  Until I sold the article to the L.A. Weekly, which led to the book, which sank like a stone until it came to the attention of a TV agent, who put me together with a producer…well, at least that far back, when I was regretting not giving into the impulse to bankrupt the Tortmaster for his misdeeds, I was skilled and devious in the art of stretching a free-lancer's occasional paydays well past the second or third notice from a creditor.  I'd "forget" to sign my name on an otherwise clearly written check or I’d purposely put the pediatrician's payment in the envelope addressed to the dentist. When someone called from Delinquent Accounts, I'd identify myself as the baby-sitter, all the while wondering what those accounts did when no one was looking - joyride in borrowed cars, knock up teenage girls, get kicked out of high school?
The show changed all that, and I'd had a good run in the stock market, but those days were gone and money was getting to be a headache again. I wrote out checks for the taxes on the L.A. house that were due at the end of the month, which was also when my tenant's lease expired, and for my health insurance, whose first bill of the new year came with a particularly unpleasant addendum this time- not just the usual rate raise but a notice that this year my very own personal hike included a "decade surcharge."
I had had a very good time in my financial go-go days, indulging myself and those I loved in ways large and small.  But as I wrote out the checks I wondered, not for the first time, what I’d do if the network didn’t green light the new show, which was far from a sure thing. The only other possibilities I could conjure up that might save me from my reckless financial ways  – winning the lottery or finding a rich husband - were equally improbable…given the odds on getting a pilot made, let alone a series, I’d have a better shot at either of those.

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