When I was a day-dreamy teen-ager thinking about getting married someday, I used to picture myself awaiting a 6:15 commuter train which would bring my husband (tall, dark, and handsome) home to me.
I'd be in the kitchen of our vine covered cottage, wearing a frilly white apron and whipping up a delectable home cooked dinner. Out two adorable little daughters would be out plaing in the yard.
Well, I'm a big girl now. Part of my dream has come true. I've got the tall, dark, and handsome husband -- Ernie Kovacs -- and the two adorable little daughters -- Betty, 8, and Kippy, 7. But instead of the vine covered cottage, we live in a 17 room apartment in Manhattan, and dinner -- well, when we get a chance to eat together at all, it's usually prepared by our cook.
The only chance I have to wear a frilly white apron these days is when I do a French maid skit on one of our TV shows.
As for greeting my husband after a hard day's work, about the only time Ernie and I really have together is after we start our working day.
He gets up at 4:30 a.m. to do his three hour radio show from 6 to 9. I snooze until 7, then rise to get the girls off to school and myself ready for our daily 10:30 a.m. TV show. On Mondays we spend all day at the studios preparing for the night time version.
On the surface this doesn't sound too bad. We telecast a total of 3 1/2 hour weekly, and Ernie does an additional 18 hours of radio. But, it's what goes into those shows that keeps us hopping, and too often we're hopping in different directions.
First, unlike many comedians, Ernie writes most of his own material, and 21 1/2 hours a week of shows can burn up an awesome number of comedy sketches, jokes, and musical numbers.
I've been doing a lot of club dates this season in places like the Stork Club, Waldorf-Astoria, and the Plaza, which means extra writing, rehearsing, costume-fitting, and studying scores. I spend hours in a beauty parlor, but I'm learning to fix my own hair in order to save time.
Ernie tries to sandwich in a couple of hours in mid-afternoon at a club where he has a steam bath, massage, and a nap.
That's how we whirl during the week, but on weekends -- Oh, those wonderful weekends -- we stop running. It's an unbroken rule that Saturdays and Sundays belong to our daughters. We may take a trip to Tenafly, N.J., to visit my family, or to Trenton to see Ernie's. Sometimes we all pack suitcases and fly down to Cuba. But usually we sleep late, have a big family breakfast, then take the girls to a movie or the zoo. It's our time, and much as we both love our work, it's the best time.
