he sang a dewy-eyed '40s love song she called "queer" and then sang the same thing to a rap beat. It was just incredible to see this woman work the room, remember the names of all the people she spoke to in the audience. In thinking more about the Carrie-Debbie dynamic, it occured to me that Carrie has a relationship with her mother that is weirdly similar to the one I have with mine. We both get the humor and the absurdity from them, and somehow we are reinterpreting it, sending it out into the world from an observer's vantage point.

She admired her mother's guts and vision, her ability to picture things on such a grand scale, much as she feared for the outcome of these grand schemes of hers-- this being the grandest scheme to date. Viv was an unbelievable fighter, fiercely loyal, touching when touched or wounded herself, darling when temporarily daunted. To label her eccentric would be a disservice to the word. She was defiantly loony, fearlessly so. Carrie Fisher, "Delusions of Grandma"

's show contained a good selection of songs and film clips, a great deal of which showed youthful doing some astoundingly rigorous dance numbers. By the show's end, was bringing our attention to the stage curtain, informing us that it cost her $20,000.

"You go to a show, and the entertainer sings you a medley of their hits," she said, sitting on a barstool. "Well, I have only one hit. I remember I had it during the time I was married to Eddie Fisher. He had 37 gold records on the wall and he was so pissed off that I had a hit. That's why I love this song." Then she launched into a rendition of "Tammy," one of those oldie dewey-eyed ladies' songs. She sang it sincerely, was reverent to it, paid homage to the past.

"God, what a day," I thought. "I've laughed, I've cried. This has been totally worth it. This is life, man!!" Before bounced off stage, she told us: "I'll be autographing programs and taking pictures with you in just a few minutes. I've got to change out of this."