Ah -- the actor's life

I had lunch with Ben today. He picked me up at my office parking lot, and he drove us to one of our favorite restaurants, Havana Mania. The food is Cuban, and it’s delicious. I always get the same thing – the chicken salad. Though today it was different – tomatoes and less onions – the taste was wonderful.

Ben looks good. He was proud of the haircut he got yesterday at Super Cuts for only $17. He’s confident about the prospect of a couple of acting projects coming to fruition. So he is all smiles. We don’t talk about anything too personal – mostly about family and work and movies and the superficiality of Facebook (after all, not everything is poetry), and our mutual Facebook friends, but it’s all good. He’s a grownup now, and he needs his privacy. I respect that. If I pried too much I’m sure it would drive him away.

I just want success for him so badly it almost hurts. Like the poem I wrote a few years ago after looking at his new headshots on my computer – one shot better than the other. After all, he’s a great subject for a photographer. His face will make the photographer look good rather than vice versa.

Here’s the poem:

Twelve Hundred Head Shots

I scroll through them
one by one.
Each a full-face shot
in black and white.
His clothes change – tee-shirts,
dress shirt, tie and suit jacket,
a sweater slung over his shoulders,
a shirt with open collar and loose hanging tie.
But the poses repeat again and again.

First his face is serious, eyes slightly squinting,
looking dark and foreboding,
His hair is slicked back
not a one out of place.
This guy means business or he’s got a gun.
Next he shows a little half smile,
long dimples on the sides of his mouth
but no teeth.
Full, dark brows frame deep, friendly eyes
that reflect the light of day.
Finally he smiles wide
showing teeth, dimples,
and little crow’s feet
around the eyes. His jaw is long,
square, honest.
This is a guy
you can trust to be your friend
for life.

When this young son of mine
played tournament tennis as a boy
I sat on the sidelines at every match
with all my fingers crossed and my legs crossed
and my arm crossed
as if my body language and my wishing
could win him the point.

Now I click through the head shots
and wonder which one, which look, which outfit
will get him a part on a TV series
as a smart aleck lawyer or sinister gangster
or a part in a movie as the leading man’s sidekick
or better yet, the role perfect for the Tyrone Power,
Laurence Harvey,or Montgomery Clift type
that his new manager says he is –
the role that will find us both sitting together
at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion
on Academy Awards night.
He in his Hugo Boss tux,
I in my long Armani gown
waiting, holding hands,
squeezing them together until they hurt,
until his name is called
and he goes up on stage to accept his prize.

So, I’ll keep my fingers crossed now that his projects will be successful, and he can afford a haircut in a real salon – maybe where other stars get their hair done.

I'm passing the purple hat

In keeping with the friends theme, a friend sent the following to me yesterday -- in honor of women's history month and in memory of Erma Bombeck who lost her fight with cancer.

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck
(written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you's' More 'I'm sorry's.'

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute, look at it and really see it .. . live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what. Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

A bucket list item failure

Nurturing my friends was definitely on my bucket list when I started this blog. And I haven't been successful at fulfilling this goal. I seem to be a failure both on the give and take sides. I don’t call and make dates with people enough, and when I do I give up after the first sign that connecting could be difficult.

My Thursday’s horoscope reminded me how important it is to nurture friendships, and how I’ve been a failure at it. I let work get in the way most of the time. Geography is also an issue. Some of my friends live on the other side of the city, and with my work schedule, I don’t want to or am too tired to take the time to fight the traffic for a lunch date. I also get bent out of shape if they won't make the trip to where I live once in a while. Right now I find myself at an impasse with a couple of people because they refuse to meet in my territory. As much as I want to see them and talk to them, I haven’t seen them in way too long.

Well, this piece has changed my mind. I’m going to contact them and get our friendships back on track.

Here's what the horoscope said:

"Take the time today to think about your friends. When was the last time you checked in with everybody and found out what is new in their life? Your friendships require effort to stay healthy, so make some dates with your favorite people for lunch, coffee, brunch, or maybe just a walk around the block. Impromptu socializing just isn't realistic sometimes, so plan ahead and show them that you want to make room in your life for them. They'll love to hear from you."


This is so true. Our lives are way too complicated these days to let nature take its course. We need to take the lead and proactively make things happen.

And, hopefully, keep our friends!!!

More poems post no. 1 -- it's about time

It's time to post some poems -- both old and new. This one came from an exercise at a UCLA class called "Misbehaving Poems." But, no worries. You had to be there!

Beware. More to follow.

Star Fishing

Today I want to tell you about variable stars.
They intrigue me because they change.
They change in brightness.
Some repeat cycles with almost clocklike precision
others change irregularly.
Some require only hours or days
to return to their starting brightness.
Others require years to change.
Yet, whether they change imperceptibly or violently
all variable stars change.

The most spectacular variable is the Nova.
It can get up to 200,000 times brighter than the Sun.
But, alas, it is temporary.
It periodically blows off a tiny percent of the Sun’s mass
at speeds up to 600 miles a second
until it loses too much mass to continue.
Whereas Supernovas brighten up to 10 billion times
the Sun’s brightness for a few days
and then fade away forever.

One more thing.
Variable stars change their brightness by pulsating
ever expanding and contracting
like a balloon,
They repeat their brightness cycles
from one day to hundreds of days
and are hundreds of times more luminous
than the Sun.

Well, that’s it.
Now go out into your yard
lean back in your recliner
gaze up into that black starry sky
and see if you can find your own variable star
amidst the 8000 stars visible to the naked eye.
See if you can catch its luminosity.
Surely you can.
Surely you can.

They're back!

And, just in time for the onset of Spring, our gorgeous clivia are back. It makes me smile when I walk up to my front door and see them in full bloom. And, like all things their time here is fleeting. So, I must enjoy them fully now.

The Health Miles Step Fest Challenge – just a matter of perspective

In the end I came in number 443 out of the 4023 participants in the challenge. Here’s some other statistics.

I had a total of 446,799 steps recorded on my pedometer for the challenge period from February 16 to March 18. That means I did an average of 14,413 steps every day for 31 days. Not the 15,000 or more I originally planned to do, but close. I lost a little steam – and interest – toward the finish line.

However, there were 77 participants who did the maximum of 30,000 steps a day for 31 days for a total of 930,000 steps for the challenge duration. Like I said at the outset I could never compete with that. Nor would I want to. How does anyone amass 30,000 steps every day for 31 days in a row? It’s mind boggling.

On the other end of the spectrum were about 150 folks who never took one step – or at least didn’t record any into the challenge database. So, it is all a matter of perspective.

443 out of 4023 is not bad for an old lady like me.

I lied

I went back to my dermatologist and got shot up again. I know I said I wouldn’t do anymore as a way to save money, but I lied. I gave in to botox a couple of weeks ago and was persuaded to try another hit of Rystalane since it was offered at half price if I could find a friend to do it too. Well, my doc even found me the friend. However, I’m not sure of the effects of the Rystalane – injected into the lines from my mouth down into my chin and around my lips. All I know is, right now I’m still very black and blue – four days later. It’s not a pretty sight.

Magic Potion

I see deep furrows in my face
over my eyes, across my forehead,
from my nostrils, down into my chin.
They look like scars, my niece says
like her daddy has around his mouth.
Mine are the scars of age
earned through years of child rearing
work, parent care, long hours,
sleepless nights and family tragedies.
But, I’ll not let them be.
My needle-wielding dermatologist
injects each line with a magic potion
that will give me an illusion of youth
for another few months or so.