“There’s not one piece that I didn’t go out and buy or that I can’t tell you a story about.”

In any case, sir, my spouse used to tell me that I had a behind capable of raising the dead from their graves. I wish to avoid taking any chances.
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Millionaires are Jamie Lee Curtis and her spouse Christopher Guest. However, for the past 30 years, the famous couple has made the decision to reside in the same stunning home.

In December 2022, Jamie Lee Curtis and Christopher Guest celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary. Throughout their marriage, they have resided in the same home. Annie and Ruby, their children, grew up in the beautiful house.

Jamie Lee Curtis is a Hollywood royalty, descended from actor Tony Curtis and actress Janet Leigh. She developed a prosperous acting career by following in their footsteps and starring in beloved films like “Halloween” and “Freaky Friday.”

Curtis has received recognition for her exceptional acting abilities throughout her career. She was previously nominated for a Golden Globe for the sitcom “Anything But Love.” She was raised in Los Angeles, first as an adult and subsequently with her parents.

Curtis is one of the few well-known writers who has won over critics and book lovers in addition to her acting profession. She became well-known for writing children’s books when she released “When I Was Little: A Four-Year-Old’s Memoir of Her Youth” in 1993.

Books that her kids inspired

Actor-Filmmaker Christopher Guest is credited by Curtis with inspiring her two children. The basis for her second novel, “Tell Me Again About The Night I Was Born,” which was released in 1996, came from the adoption of their oldest child, Annie.

She co-wrote the New York Times best-selling book “Today I Feel Silly and Other Moods That Make My Day” two years later. She wrote “Is There Really a Human Race?” in 2006, drawing inspiration from Ruby, her adoptive daughter.

HER MATERNITY WITH CHRISTIPH GUEST

Since 1984, Curtis and her spouse have been joined in marriage. She has expressed her gratitude to the man countless times, and she is thrilled to spend the rest of her life with him. On their 36th anniversary of marriage, she wrote:

“My hand is in his.” Both then and now. Our children, families, and friends were the connections in our emotional chain, guiding us through both success and failure.

Curtis previously talked candidly about the instant she realized she would marry Guest. The actress made it real when she saw his photo in a Rolling Stone publication in 1984, right before the premiere of “This Is Spinal Tap.”

The actress claimed that she gestured to a picture of Guest sporting a plaid shirt. She pointed at him and informed her companion that she would marry that man even though she had never seen him before.

Curtis decided to take a chance and called Guest’s agent the very following day. If Guest was interested, she asked him to phone her and gave him his number.

Sadly, he never phoned, and she continued living her life and dating other men. She drove to Hugo’s restaurant in West Hollywood after they broke up. She looked up there and noticed Guest three tables away.

She waved back to Guest when he had finished waving. He raised his hand and gave a shrug as he stood up to go. He phoned her the very next day, and they went on their first date a few days later.

After a few months, Guest took a plane to New York City to record “Saturday Night Live” for a whole year. They were totally enamored with one another at the time, and they haven’t looked back.

The 1920s Spanish Colonial Revival house that Curtis entered in 1992 would end up being her first residence. Regarding the interior design of the home, the actress said, “There’s not one piece that I didn’t go out and buy or that I can’t tell you a story about,” acknowledging that at the time she thought she could make any place beautiful.

For Guest, however, it was not. Curtis revealed that he would frequently display disdain in his facial expressions when house hunting. But he was different for this particular property.

He began examining the eucalyptus trees around the house and its terracotta roof tiles before concluding that they ought to buy it. He would subsequently say that the home’s park-like environment had pleased him.

Despite being built in 1929, the house had not been modified when the previous owners moved in. As a result, they enlisted Jan McFarland Cox’s assistance to revitalize the house, which is now light and spacious.

The house is filled with traces of Curtis’s two children. She combined aspects of a more modern zen design with those of an ancient traditional Mediterranean home.

Curtis and Guest’s belief that fusing old and new is an integral part of who they are is reflected in the home. The home serves as an inspiration for the children’s book author to produce works of art.

The couple worked with architect Michael B. Lehrer and his wife Mia on renovations and landscape design while they were renovating the home before moving in. Before remodeling the master bedroom and bathroom, they started on adding bedrooms for their kids.

After remodeling the basement level, Lehrer opened up the kitchen to create a family area—a location that Curtis refers to as “the emotional center of the house.” She asked Cox to design interiors that highlighted the Mediterranean roots of the home.

Curtis and Guest are positive that they have brought happiness into the house. “I think it’s like anything: it’s a work in progress,” a guest once said. This house will continue to exist.

It’s true that Curtis uses wall art, hanging fabric dividers, and kitchen towels to hang inspirational sayings to keep the home lively. Timeless hardwood furnishings that maintain the Mediterranean aesthetic perfectly complement their home’s light and airy ambiance.

Curtis and Guest created a devoted household, but they also shared a profound understanding of what it meant to be “home” with one another. When I pull up and see that you are home, I feel protected, the actress once wrote a song for her husband.

She feels that the song’s words, despite their simplicity, perfectly capture what it means to be in a long marriage. She values the security that comes from knowing her spouse is home and that she is not by herself.

Now that they are empty nesters, Curtis and Guest take solace in their time spent together. Their daughter Ruby changed from her prior identity as Thomas, and their oldest daughter Annie is now married.

At the age of 25, Ruby, the second of Curtis’s two children with Guest, made the decision to transition. With Ruby teaching her to reject the notion that gender is fixed, Curtis is ecstatic for her children.

Ruby married in 2022 in the same manner that Annie is already married. Curtis was pleased to announce that she presided over her daughter’s wedding.

My Neighbors Left a Note That Shattered My Heart — My Granddaughter Discovered It and Gave Them a Learning Experience

The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.

“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…

Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.

“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”

As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.

“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.

That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”

The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.

A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.

“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”

I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.

The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.

The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.

I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.

A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”

It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.

I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.

“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”

I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”

I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”

But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.

Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.

But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.

The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.

Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.

The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.

The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.

I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”

That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.

As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”

The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”

I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”

There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”

I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”

“Issues? What kind of issues?”

I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”

“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”

“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”

“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.

As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.

Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.

One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.

“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.

As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”

I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.