rice on your head

happy birthday, baby

Posted by cgcopy on December 18, 2012 in it's life

This week is B.’s 54th birthday (how did that happen — we were just in our 30s about five minutes ago) and, as usual, I’m faced with the age-old dilemma of what to do for a present. Oh, sure, there are the obvious choices — the new Grisham novel, the iTunes gift card, tickets to a great concert or a game, dinner at our favorite “special occasion” place. All of those are fine, yet none completely satisfies my definition of “special.”

After all, this is the man I’ve known since we were 17, the first boy I ever kissed (and hopefully, the last), the love of my life. This is also the guy who lost interest for a while after our first date (what can I say, he was a typical 17-year-old guy looking to score, and I was a “good girl” who couldn’t see past first base) — but things seem to have worked out since then. (Speaking of which, maybe Dodgers Opening Day tickets? No, that’s months away). From 1975 (when we met) until 1997 (when we got married), ours has been a unique relationship — friends, more than friends, less than friends, best friends. And from that day forward? We like to think we’re joined at the heart. We also like to say that even though we don’t have kids, we tend to act like five-year-olds from time to time, which is sort of fun. Or annoying, depending on who else is around.

One of the things I find most endearing about B. is his curiosity. Sure, his wanting to ask my thoughts on the meaning of life when I’ve only been awake for a couple of minutes can be a bit jarring, and his seemingly endless patience with figuring out how something works can wear on my patience (do we really have to check out all 139 functions of the remote when all we need is on, off, volume, channel change?). But I have to admire his ability to question and explore. It’s got a refreshing innocence to it — the way a kid loves to discover new things and imagine the what-ifs of life. Aha! My gift idea at last.

My husband has watched Apollo 13 so many times, he could play the Gary Sinise role and save the mission without a problem. This is the man who has asked me, on numerous occasions, if one day, budget and practical stuff notwithstanding, I’d want to explore Mars with him (my response: is there a Target store in the vicinity?). The guy for whom I bought a telescope because he loves looking at the stars (of course, being a city girl, it never occurred to me that trying to see the stars while living around city lights is damn near impossible). The person who will always regard John Glenn as a hero. Who watched, absolutely awestruck, as the space shuttle Endeavour made its farewell tour over LA last October.

So for his birthday, I’m taking B. to the California Science Center to see the Endeavour up close and personal. He’ll be able to explore, ask questions, imagine, and learn to his heart’s content. And I’ll get the chance to fall in love with him a little more.

Only one question remains — how do I wrap it?

Tags: astronaut, birthday, husband Permalink

4 Comments

together again, at last

Posted by cgcopy on December 14, 2012 in searching for myself ... or for some chocolate

The other night, with an evening to myself as B. was giving final exams, I found a treasure on TV — Encore was broadcasting the first night of a 4-part viewing of The Thorn Birds. The classic miniseries first aired in 1983, and I’ve never gotten to see it in its entirety.

Actually, I’ve never seen much beyond the first installment, and by that I mean that I’ve never seen the love scenes between Father Ralph de Bricassart (the at-that-time gorgeous Richard Chamberlain) and Meggie Cleaver (a smoldering Rachel Ward). A forbidden love (he’s a Catholic priest) stoked by the wild Australian heat … well you get the picture. Add to that cast Christopher Plummer playing the archbishop (I fell in love with Mr. Plummer when he played Baron Von Trapp in The Sound of Music and have never fallen out of love) and the craggy Bryan Brown (as Meggie’s husband) and you’ve got four evenings of romance, intrigue, romance, plotting, romance, scandal, and generally being transported to another time and place (along with some very good-looking people).

It should be noted that I first fell for Chamberlain aka Ralph de Bricassart three years earlier when he played the dashing (do people still use that word?) John Blackthorne in another mini series, Shogun. In that role Chamberlain looked exactly like my Russian lit professor (I was taking the class at the time), and I cannot to this day see the titles Anna Karenina or War and Peace without blushing.

Mr. Chamberlain broke hearts (figuratively, not literally) as the handsome Dr. Kildare in the early 1960s and continues to do terrific work (he was wonderful as Jonathan in Brothers & Sisters). But he’ll always have a mini piece of my heart for his role as Ralph de Bricassart — at least for the next few evenings.

I guess those Lakers games will just have to wait.

Tags: miniseries, romance Permalink

1 Comment

seriously, hon?

Posted by cgcopy on December 11, 2012 in it's life

See if you can follow this because to me it was crystal clear — basic math, and certainly not brain science. I went to a beauty store (part of a national chain — yes, that one) to make a return. I was returning three eye pencils which had been offered as a “buy 1, get 2 free” deal, along with a free gift. After I had made the purchase, I realized that no, I didn’t really need three more eye pencils and the free gift was worthless to me. So back they went. Still with me, right?

Okay. Now, in addition to those pencils, I had also bought $20 of other merchandise. Plus, the store had offered $5 off any purchase of $15 or more (sometimes I think these offers on top of offers are just silly).

Now what this chain does is take off a percentage of the $5 from each item in the purchase (why, I have no idea). However, given that I was returning $8 worth of eye pencil from a purchase of $28, my $5 off should stay with me.

One would think.

The salesgirl (really, she couldn’t have been more than 19) couldn’t quite grasp the concept.

Me: Hi, I’d like to return all three eye pencils plus the free gift. Everything is unopened.

SG: Reason for return?

Me: I realized I don’t need the pencils and the free gift isn’t what I thought it would be.

SG: But you’re only paying for one pencil and getting three plus the gift.

Me: I understand. But I don’t need them.

SG: If it was me, I couldn’t return this stuff. I’m a hoarder.

Me: (Silence)

SG: Okay. Let me process the return.

Me: I saved $5 because the purchase was over $15. Even with the return, it’s still over $15, so I should still benefit from the $5 off.

SG: Right, hon.

Me: (Hon? Seriously?)

SG: Okay. Please run your credit card through.

Me: Uh, no. It looks like I’m losing nearly half of that $5.

SG: That’s because of our computer system.

Me: (Silence)

SG: That’s what it does (giggle).

Me: You need to fix the error.

SG: Okay. Let me figure this one out. (Presses a gazillion buttons on the register, answers two phone calls, and goes to assist the sales infant next to her.)

Finally.

SG: Okay. All good now.

Me: Thanks so much.

SG: Don’t worry about it, hon.

Me: (Once again, seriously? I’m the customer, I’m not the one who made the error, and do not call me “hon” — I’ve been using eye pencils since before you knew how to write.)

The motto of this story? If an offer sounds too good to be true, it’s probably not worth it in the end.

And good manners have obviously been discounted hugely.

Tags: beauty, manners Permalink

the color of money

Posted by cgcopy on December 7, 2012 in coloring outside the lines

Pantone, the renowned color-matching experts for the printing industry as well as fashion, this week announced their Color of the Year 2013 — emerald. I have nothing against emerald. In fact, B. bought me a small emerald band for our 10th anniversary because he said the color reminded him of my eyes (could you just love this guy, or what?), so I’m quite fond of the color. Of the gem. In the ring. Emerald isn’t a color I’d necessarily wear or choose for shoes, a bag, a wall, or towels. My point is that just because Pantone decided it’s the color of the year, does it have to be the color of my year?

Like anything else in the fashion and beauty industry (and believe me, I know beauty — I named nail polish colors for 10 years), who decides which color should be what and when, seems arbitrary and open to the whims of those whose who pull designers’ strings. As the Devil who wore Prada, fashion magazine editor Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) icily explained to her unfashionable assistant Andrea (Anne Hathaway) that it was the people in the upper echelons of fashion, led by her, who had decided years ago on the exact shade of cerulean blue that had then trickled down to the masses (gasp!) and made it to the very (cheap) sweater than Andrea herself was wearing. Nice.

Do I notice a color more when it’s anointed the color of a particular season? Sure. Do I like it more? No. As a former New Yorker whose closet remains filled with noir (I’ll take black for $200 please, Alex), I prefer bright color in small doses in my wardrobe. But if you want my color of any year, just open the big box of Crayolas. Pull out Purple Mountains’ Majesty and Carnation Pink and Robin’s Egg Blue and …

Tags: colors Permalink

jackie, audrey, grace … and me

Posted by cgcopy on December 3, 2012 in searching for myself ... or for some chocolate

Sometimes in this world, there are rare moments when the fates conspire to do good. To do something so exquisite that we all sit back and emit a collective “ahh.” Jung called it the collective unconscious – phenomena we all instinctively regard as beautiful. Think sunsets, a sky full of stars, a snowflake.

Now think about this. The time is 1929 – the year that the fates brought us three muses, all of whom have influenced women ever since with their legendary beauty, style, and sense of self. Jackie, Audrey, and Grace. In a year where the stock market crashed, these three luminescent icons rose. I believe that God should congratulate Herself on an exceptionally amazing year in that regard.

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Like everyone alive at the time of JFK’s assassination, I have unforgettable memories of that day and those that followed. Mostly, I am struck by the grace, beauty, and strength with which Jackie Kennedy carried herself and held the nation together. In the years that followed, her signature sense of style became a young girl’s lesson in why less is always so much more. On Jackie, a simple black turtleneck and trousers, a classic trench coat, and oversized black sunglasses spoke volumes about the art of timeless beauty. She knew how to make perfection look deceptively simple. All the great ones do.

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If Tinkerbell were to take up residence in New York City, she would probably look much like my image of Audrey Hepburn. A pixie-like sprite with black capris and flats, a smoldering innocent breakfasting at Tiffany’s front window, Audrey captured the essence of elfin charm combined with womanly grace and those gorgeous deep brown eyes. Hers was the kind of style one is born to. And while that iconic little black dress continues to be the epitome of fashion, it is the woman who wore it who captured our hearts and filled our dreams of being so nonchalantly, effortlessly, and eternally chic.

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Grace. The name says it all. And no one has ever worn it better than Grace Kelly. From her days as Hollywood’s ice-princess blonde to her life as princess of the storybook municipality of Monaco, Grace gave the word “stunning” new meaning and dimension. Few of us would ever be blessed with her beauty (I’m guessing that even God took a day off after creating her for a well-deserved rest), but all of us believed that we might live her fairytale.

Big dreams for me, a nice Jewish girl from New York who loved to lose herself in books? Maybe. And yet … have you seen where I left my tiara?

Tags: audrey, grace, tiara Permalink

1 Comment

blizzard of blitzen

Posted by cgcopy on November 28, 2012 in coloring outside the lines

Yesterday I made the mistake of wanting to listen to the radio while driving. Almost every single music station I tuned to was playing holiday music. Only. 24/7. And most of them had started the format well before Thanksgiving turkeys were even defrosting. I suppose it’s just part of the trend that has the holiday season starting earlier each year (“Hey, Mac — let’s get that Halloween candy off the shelves and load in the Santa hats — stat!”), and I guess that once you hear that Grandma got run over by the reindeer the first ten times, you start rooting for Blitzen just a little. Hence, I offer this bit of irreverent holiday humor to help cut through the non-stop merry mania — my naughty takes on those nice holiday classics:

The Three Scrooges

The madcap adventures of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, and that wild and crazy guy, Ebenezer.

It’s a Wonderful Wife

The true story of how George Bailey’s wife coped – do you know how hard it is to live with a delusional lunatic? And with those bells ringing constantly?

Frosty the Snowplow

How our villain, disguised as everyone’s favorite snowman, manages to plow down an entire neighborhood.

Jingle Sells

Or, how to sell the crap out of the holiday season, now starting as early as July in a store near you.

Randolph the Brown-Nosed Reindeer

The untold story of Rudolph’s kiss-ass cousin – and his plot to win the reindeer games.

How the Winch Stole Christmas

The hilarious account of what happened when dad tried to string holiday lights from the roof – and the fire department crane had to get him down.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow – Let It Go Already!

A heart-wrenching drama that follows one LA woman through therapy, as she seeks to get past her (sob!) unrealistic hopes of a white Christmas.

’Twas the Night Before Hanukkah

A retelling of the classic bedtime story, wherein “visions of sugarplums” are replaced by “dreams of Bubbe’s latkes,” and that damn mouse is eradicated (a mouse in my clean house – oy!) by pest control.

A Partridge in a Bare Tree

The three-handkerchief story of one former teen idol’s brave effort to revitalize his career in the winter of his years.

Yes, Virginia, There Is an App for That

The heart-warming tale of one little girl and her quest for the truth: “If I see it on an app, does that make it real?”

Gotta go. Looks like Valentine’s Day is about to hit the shelves.

Tags: holidays, humor Permalink

3 Comments

a ticklish subject

Posted by cgcopy on November 24, 2012 in searching for myself ... or for some chocolate

The LA Zoo is a really fun place to spend Thanksgiving morning. It’s not very crowded, it’s cool enough for all the animals to be in the outdoor portions of their habitats (vs. summertime, when they chill out inside), and the foliage is turning red and gold (yes, we do get fall here in LA, it’s just later than back East).

There are some animals I adore seeing, like the orangutans (in an amazing habitat and now with a new little baby), the cats (lions, tigers, and jaguars, oh my), and a new favorite, the siamangs. The latter are in the ape family, weigh only about 30 pounds each, and sound like The Three Stooges. They have an amazing vocal volume and, on this visit, were clinging to their cage bars doing their version of “Nya. Nya. Nya, nya, nya, nya!” Believe me, Moe, Larry, and Curly had nothing on them.

A particular favorite — thanks to this last visit — are the elephants. Now remember, I speak city — I’m a city girl — and to me, elephants have always been “smell-ephants.” But this time, they truly rose on my fondness meter.

We watched elephant Billy being groomed, being fed, and — now this is adorable, even on an elephant — being tickled. His keeper would tickle him right behind his ear, and Billy giggled. Okay, it was an elephant giggle, but it was so incongruous with his immense size that you had to love it. All in all, one of nature’s awesome surprises.

I guess that sometimes you need to take the girl out of the city to stop and smell the roses. And the elephants.

Tags: elephants, three stooges, tickle Permalink

1 Comment

so this black cat walks under a ladder…

Posted by cgcopy on November 21, 2012 in coloring outside the lines

I’m not superstitious. I’m not afraid of black cats (no more than I’m leery of other cats, which sort of freak me out because they act like they know things that we don’t — and they’re not sharing); I walk under ladders without a second thought; I step on cracks in the sidewalk with wild abandon. And the only thing that scares me about Friday the 13th is the movie franchise.

So it was with more than a little surprise that Superstition Saturday arrived. It was one of those days when I’d swear I was working for a guy named Murphy and that his word was law. Consider the evidence — West Coast girl dealing with major East Coast family issues; two-and-a-half hours on the freeway to cover 30 miles; and a bigtime faux pas involving a cell phone, butt dialing, and the other party getting an (unintended) earful of unflattering comments. Still with me?

That brings me to lunch at a cafe, where I placed our order and paid for it at the counter. The teenager behind the counter gave me my receipt and the little number stand to place on my table so that the server could bring our food over. The number? 13. No, really. What?

“With the day I’ve had,” I said, “any chance I can get a different number?” He laughed and then, when he realized that I was scary-serious, he gave me number 91.

I thought my luck for the day had changed for the better. Until I thanked him and he said those three dreaded words: “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Never a black cat around when you need one.

Tags: murphy's law, Saturday, superstition Permalink

1 Comment

marquee men

Posted by cgcopy on November 17, 2012 in coloring outside the lines

Men and the movies — two of my favorite things. And men in the movies — where do I start? Here, with my list of sexiest movie men, some from the past, others more current. So grab your popcorn and enjoy.

Al Pacino as Serpico

Do I really need to explain this one — those puppy dog eyes, the beard, that one earring, the arty vibe? Paco, Paco, Paco.

Robert Redford as Hubbell Gardiner

For every woman who has wished that The Way We Were could have been the The Way We Were Forever, Robert Redford’s Hubbell Gardiner is why. The man is charming, gorgeous, and looks amazing in that carelessly perfect WASP way. And the aviator glasses are to die for. What makes him most lust-worthy? That he’s in love with a Jewish girl from New York with a less than perfect nose and perfectly played neurosis. See ya, Hubbell.

Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine

Ilsa left him twice — once in Paris and again in Casablanca — so she could help Victor Laszlo save the world? That couldn’t have been easy. Rick’s brooding glance, his simmering passion, his absolutely perfectly cut white dinner jacket — seriously, Ilsa, I know you two will always have Paris, but what about the rest of us?

Frank Sinatra as Danny Ocean

Suavely adorable.

George Clooney as Danny Ocean

Adorably suave.

Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch

Highly intelligent, compassionate, and true to his beliefs, Atticus Finch singlehandedly fought the injustice of the Depression Era south. How could you not fall in love with a man whose daughter is named Scout, who wears horn-rimmed glasses so well, and whose shining armor is a lawyer’s three-piece suit. Oh, yes, and who understands why one should never kill a mockingbird.

Stay tuned. Thelma and Louise is on TV in a few minutes, and I hear there’s this sexy guy named Brad in it.

Tags: men, movies, popcorn Permalink

1 Comment

a really big shoe

Posted by cgcopy on November 11, 2012 in it's life

For those of us of a certain age, The Ed Sullivan Show was a Sunday-night institution. Airing at 8 pm on CBS, the show featured everyone’s favorite host (with his signature pronunciation of “show” as “shoe”) introducing us each week to a variety of entertainment. There was always a singer or two (big names at the time like Tony Bennett and Judy Garland), at least one stand-up comic (where I learned to appreciate the razor-sharp wit of Mort Sahl and George Carlin), and cutting-edge music including Elvis (the cameras weren’t allowed to show his swiveling hips), the Beatles, of course (everyone conscious then remembers their US debut on the show), and the Rolling Stones (is it possible that Mick Jagger was ever that young?). There was also the inevitable acrobat act, the requisite plate balancers and spinners, and, of course, the world’s most lovable mouse (sorry Mickey) — a puppet character from Italian and Spanish television named Topo Gigio, who ended each appearance with an endearing, “Kiss me good night, Eddie.”

The Ed Sullivan Show was an hour of peace in an era of national turmoil; it was a soothing escape from the riots, the assassinations, and the war that tore this country apart in the 1960s. And while the show seems hokey today (variety shows having long since given way to reality TV in all its variations), it provided much-needed comfort in the midst of so much revolution.

All in all, pretty big “shoes” to fill.

Tags: sundays, TV Permalink

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