By Ali Wentworth
Turning out to be up in a kin of political journalists—and daughter of President Reagan’s White residence social secretary—Ali Wentworth rebelled opposed to her blue-blood upbringing, embracing Hollywood, bikes, even a couple of wildly irrelevant marriage proposals. this present day she is an acclaimed comedic actress and author, former Oprah ordinary, spouse of political and media famous person George Stephanopoulos, and a mom who we could her ladies devour cotton sweet ahead of mattress. although she’s settled down, her rebellious nature flourishes in her comedy and her view of her loopy global.
In this addictively humorous and hot memoir, she takes us during the taking a look glass and into the wonderland of her existence, from a youth between Washington’s elite to a stint within the psych ward they known as a brand new England prep college; days doing L.A. cartoon comedy (with then-aspiring artists Will Ferrell and Lisa Kudrow) to a sequence of spectacularly failed loves (that ultimately led her to Mr. Right). consistent all through is her mom, Muffie—a perfectly stylish but enterprise, no-nonsense strength of nature and natural WASP convictions.
As fascinating and off-the-wall as Ali herself, Ali in Wonderland is an pleasing examine lifestyles that's either intimate and hilarious.
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Extra info for Ali in Wonderland: And Other Tall Tales
Whenever we were out in public or even when a neighbor came over to the house there was an undercurrent of tension, waiting for the next explosion. Even vacations were affected. A research paper of mine was accepted at a conference in Ottawa and Nanette thought it would be fun to turn the trip into a mini-vacation. We loaded up the kids and all their accoutrements into our Taurus wagon and drove up to Ottawa. While I was at the conference Nanette visited a children’s museum, walked along the river, and basically catered to the children.
I knew plenty of socially odd but highly intelligent people. Maybe Alex was one of them. Alex also had strange routines that had to be followed or he would get very upset. For example, he had to be the one to turn off the light or close a door. If he were not allowed to do so he would freak out. Wailing and stamping his feet, his face would turn crimson. The peculiar thing about these tantrums, though, was that you did not get a sense of anger from Alex, as much as you did one of panic. After Simon was born (when Alex was almost two years old), Alex’s need to open all doors became a serious problem.
We’d watch street performers, or lounge on benches under trees or in a pavilion. When it wasn’t crowded, we would play on a small playground. More often than not, we ran into people we knew because Ithaca is a small town. With Alex, a trip there was like entering a minefield. I would be walking along, trying to time my arrival at doors to not coincide with other shoppers because, BOOM, Alex would explode when they opened the door for us. To prevent this from happening, I’d alternately DOORS OPENED AND CLOSED /41 zip along or slow down, simultaneously on the alert, BAM, for small children who elicited cries of anguish from Alex.