Tracy L. Shields, Concept Editor

Tracy Shields Moral was born in Hollywood, Ca., in 1968; the love child of two hippies who’d run off a few months before, to Vegas, in a '61 blue Chevy Nova. The words “don’t laugh, your daughter may be in here” were spray painted on the driver’s side. Since then, it’s been a life of never ending drama and adventure. She’s tended bar in Greenland, made it with an Irishman midway up the Eiffel Tower, danced flamenco in Spain, and scribbled her name on the bathroom wall of Dirty Franks in Philly, while drinking a jack and coke and humming to Patsy Cline's Sweet Dreams. Presently, she practices the art of  learning that "emptiness is not the opposite of existence" (Thich Nhat Hanh), and that her two sons, Daniel and Julien, are more of an accomplishment than anything ever written or made.

Sun sign: Gemini. Favorite Flick(s): 372 de la Matin (Betty Blue), Sheltering Sky & Austin Powers, Favorite book: The Red and the Black, Stendhal. Shoe size: 9. Ever been arrested? If so, for what? Pursued, but never arrested for spray painting “I Love You, Homeboy” on the wall of the Bell Telephone building. Nickname: T-bird and “Pit.” Cell phone provider? Sprint. Any pets? No. Favorite drink? Margarita or rum con limón. Do you use toothpicks? Only if someone hands me one (I’m a joiner). Diner of choice: ALL OF THEM. I love diners—especially those silver ones jacked up on cinder blocks. Vegetarian or meat lover? I really love the idea of being a vegetarian, (“it’s not that I love animals, it’s that I hate vegetables”) but it’ll never happen. Pet peeve? When people believe life is about progress, success and moving up a ladder. Best memories? Life on rue Rambuteau, Paris. When I was five…my basement flooded and I lost my Easy Bake Oven. Last night my …husband and I read La Caja de Carlota to Dani and Juli. When I woke up this morning…the panic attack was over, so I had coffee and wrote an e-mail to Kathy and Anne. Favorite food? Hamburgers (and cookies). Best time to call? Before 7PM. Secret ambition? To have no ambition.