Bob's Birthday Bash

So Bob finally turned 50 on September 14th and I got my chance to pull off a big surprise birthday bash for him.

This past weekend, when I was supposed to be at the 35th reunion of Mission San Jose High School's Class of 1975 (gad!), I was instead running around like a crazy woman pulling all the details together (with inestimable help from my daughters and their friends Sam, Chelsea and Casey - and many other wonderful friends) for one big this-is-the-last-time-I'm-ever-going-to-do-anything-like-this-so-you-had-better-enjoy-it birthday party for Bob.

Since Bob is, in his heart, a performer, what could I possible give him at the half century mark other than his own show? With the help of incredibly talented musician friends (thank you Tim, Julian, Cece, Billy, Ryan, and Linda), Bob got the chance to show off his many talents (singing, tap dancing, guitar playing) for a captive audience of family and friends who had no choice but to watch. I hasten to add that no one had to twist his arm. Even a little bit. And he did not disappoint.

His brother Richard flew in and in addition to serenading him with a favorite Beatles song, chose a song that both of them knew but had never sung together (in fact, they had never sung together at all!) After that, Richard challenged Bob to an impromptu tap dance - amazing! And then, for the next 30 minutes Bob performed a number of tunes that he knew well and that I had pre-selected so that he wouldn't be caught with his proverbial pants down.

Speaking of pants, given the shoddy state of his wardrobe (he'll garden in his good trousers), I had bought him two outfits for the weekend. Bob had been led to believe that I was going to give a small birthday dinner party for him on Sunday (the day after the real party). I bought him a pair of putty colored pants with a light blue shirt for the "party" on Sunday. He had also been led to believe that he had been hired to "sing at a wedding" on Saturday -the idea being that he would show up to perform at the wedding and actually arrive to his own party. So the other outfit I bought him was a pair navy pants with an eggshell colored shirt - and knowing that I would already be waiting with guests at the site while he was getting ready, I told him specifically that that outfit was "for the wedding". I made a point of showing him how the light blue shirt did not go with the navy pants. But that is what he wore. Ah well, it was dark. Who would notice. Frankly, I was lucky he didn't go "commando".

After Bob performed, the DJ took over (unending thanks to Casey, who came all the way from U of A to help!) and everyone of us more or less mid-century persons got our party on and danced until the city ordinance said we couldn't anymore. I left needing crutches. No really, I'm not kidding. Really.

I have to say as well that a number of people came whom we had not seen in many years. Old pals from our days at the San Jose Civic Light Opera. It was so incredibly wonderful to have a little mini-reunion going on as well! His oldest and best friend and family made the trip down as well to serve up the "roast" toast. Great evening all around.

It goes without saying however, that something had to happen to nearly give me a heart attack - or else it wouldn't have been my life. About 4 hours before the party, Bob nearly ruined the whole thing. His friend Julian (who "hired" him for "the wedding") had told Bob he would come to our house at 5:45 to quickly review the music before riding together to the event (only 5 minutes from our house). At about 2:00, trying to be nonchalant, I asked Bob: "What time is your thing tonight?", to which he replied: "I'm going to leave at about 5:00". Leave?? At 5:00????? Panic shot through me. "I thought you said Julian was coming here." "No", Bob responded. "I'm going to his place. This wedding is in Oxnard". My mind is racing. What is wrong with him?? How could he screw this simple but pivotal detail up??? "Bob", I said with some urgency, "you better check. I'm sure you told me that Julian was meeting you here." Bob responds again, "Well, I may have said that but I don't know what I was thinking because I am positive this wedding is in Oxnard over near where Julian lives. I'm supposed to meet him at his house." I turned away so he wouldn't see the blood drain from my face. I had gone to so much trouble to cover all my bases and make sure nothing would go wrong. Everything had been timed to the last detail. How could he do this to me?!?! Just. This. Once. Couldn't he just not be soooooo - - Bob??

Needless to say, last minute clandestine phone calls and scurrying saved the day - but had I not asked that question, we would have had a party without him. And that would have been so typical. Fortunately, we dodged that bullet.

Happy birthday Bob. Glad you were there.

Nine-Eleven

This will forever be a strange and sadly, bad day. I, like everyone else, remember 9/11/2001 clearly. I was getting ready for work and turned on the Today Show. I stood in front of the TV and watched the world unravel. And then for a full week I was glued to CNN, watching the same footage over and over and over again because what else could you do? It simply would not sink in.

I remember that night going to church. I don't remember any announcement that there would be a service - but everyone came. On auto-pilot.

And now, 9 years later, we still hold on to it.

Not that we shouldn't. It was the day that we lost 3,000 innocent lives and watched unfathomable acts that tried to destroy us. We were made to look evil in its face.

But the face of evil is not Islamic or Muslim. The vast majority of Islamics and Muslims are not interested in seeing Americans wiped off the face of the earth. They are people like any other and want simply to live their lives and raise their children and love each other and have friends and jobs and go to picnics and own a home and take a vacation and be educated and productive. The face of evil is comprised of people from all walks of life who are filled with anger and hate and ignorance.

The worst kind of evil, the kind that creates the most damage, like 9/11, is the evil done in the name of God. One only need look at the atrocities of The Crusades to find a similar horror. And in the name of Christ, no less. Now before you get angry - I am not, in any way, trying to give justification to the acts of 9/11 by comparing them to anything else. Nor am I suggesting that we "put it into perspective". What I am suggesting is that we cannot truly fight evil unless we seek to know God. We would be well served to remember that God commands us to love our enemies. That doesn't mean we turn the other cheek when we are attacked. It doesn't mean that we don't hold those responsible accountable. It doesn't mean that we don't fight the battle. We must be vigilant. We must be prepared. It means though, that we remember not to give ourselves permission to hate. Because God is never found in any doctrine that advocates hatred. Against Islam. Against Muslim. Against Judaism, Against Christianity. Many are lost and walk in the dark. Still, God loves us all.

I watch the media and shake my head over people who seek to stir the pot every year at this time. We must guard ourselves against hearts hardened by fear and revenge. To harbor fear and suspicion against all who match a "profile" is not only wrong, it serves only to perpetuate the evil. Psalm 37:8-9 says: "Refrain from anger and turn from wrath do not fret - it only leads to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land.

Romans 8:15 - "For you did not receive a spirit that makes you again a slave of fear, but you have received a spirit of sonship." We are called to a personal relationship with God. We have been given a spirit of hope. And those who know the source of that hope and the supernatural power it yields can unleash it into their lives and come out, not only with hope itself, but a renewed faith and understanding of God. And then we can come back out from the darkness and walk tall in the light.

We can, and do, move on.

HGTV Dreaming

If you could see my office right now you would call the police. Because nothing can be this messy and still be legal. I am semi-sharing it with Amanda as it was her room when she lived here full time. Now that she is here part-time it has become a depository of sorts - a depository for the overflow of stuff that lives with a 21 year old girl. (Woman?) Anyway, that, plus all my work stuff and a magazine mailing of 200+ and this very small room is in desperate need of organization and cleaning. And a decorator.

So naturally I decided to write.

I look around at my home, knowing that it holds tremendous potential. I can almost imagine it - but just almost. And this is cause for tremendous frustration for me. Because I have great taste! And I have a great sense of space. But I can-NOT put it together. And I cannot tell you how much time and money I have spent making mistakes.

Enter HGTV - the aspirational and extremely addictive (like heroin) basic cable network and I become a woman obsessed. I watch program after program watching designers and stagers, landscapers and architects create - within a half hour - effortless and perfect, amazing solutions to chronically failed rooms and landscapes just like mine. I am exhilarated with the before and after photos and feel a sense of hope well within me. I get out my computer and search for items I just saw - plot and plan, imagine and dream and then...

And then, just like heroin, I crash and burn. I cannot really make it happen. It's not just that I lack the funds, I lack the eye. And let the sulking begin!

Case in point: "Big Blue". Big Blue is an 8 foot blue leather couch that owns my smallish family room. Why on earth, you may ask, did I buy a big, blue, leather couch? Well I'll tell you. Because 10 years ago, leather was the only textile that made sense in a home of 4 kids, 2 dogs and Bob and all their careless shenanigans. And blue, because at the time I bought it, I thought I wanted "french country". So I had blue and I had yellow. And a smattering or red. But it looked awful and yellow gave way to uncountable colors that tried to pair with Big Blue. So why not chuck the couch? Well, because I was right about the leather - it has lasted. And apparently it will survive for generations. As it should. Because Big Blue is actually made of gold. At least that was what I paid for it. So throwing it out would be a bit like throwing out the hideous brooch your aunt left you that is worth a fortune.

Big Blue has cousins in every room of the house and I am at a complete loss for how to fix them. I watch design show after design show and know that it should be easy - but it isn't. I long for one of the HGTV crews to pull up to my house and give me a makeover.

I love the idea of framed family photos in the hallway. So I did that and after having them up for a month or so, I see I have way too many. But I spent a bloody fortune on frames. Everything is almost right. But not "almost right" enough to almost work.

To say nothing of the landscape. When your front yard is a nearly vertical slope straight to the house it requires nothing short of a $60,000 landscape professional or a miracle to make it work. And I do not have $60,000. So I'm praying.

Yes, I'm praying. Praying that one of the people from "Curb Appeal" or "Designer's Challenge" or "Divine Design" will read my letter, filled with humility and need, and send a crew to help me. And maybe give me the courage to put "Big Blue" on Craig's List.

"Husband Swap"

There is this reality program on TV called "Wife Swap" and the general premise is to find two certifiably insane families on polar ends of mindsets and switch wives for a week to see what bubbles up from the muck.

I have in mind something kind of similar but without the drama. I am looking for like-minded people willing to participate in a temporary exchange of husbands.

This is not like the old nasty party games of the 60's where people threw car keys in a bowl and see how it all matched up. I have no interest in a relationship. The husband I swap mine with doesn't have to speak to me or even like me. All he has to do is fix things. Like broken cabinet drawers. And screens. And leaky faucets. I would also be happy (delirious actually) if he could fix appliances - like the dishwasher. Painting would be good. Electrician skills are a big plus. And I might weep over carpentry skills.

I would stay out of swap husband's way and make the kids behave really well. I'd kennel the dogs. I'd cater meals from his favorite restaurant and I'd move into the office and let him have the master bed and bath during his stay. And if he had landscaping skills, I'd buy him a case of beer, some Cuban cigars, hand over the remote, move to a hotel and let him have the whole damned house all to himself.

I'd like this swap for about two weeks and when he was finished with all that needs tending to - he could run back to the grateful arms of his real loving wife. And I'd get Bob back then too.

Now if you are interested in participating, you should know that Bob does none of those things (or at least not well) so obviously this is not what you would be getting at your house.

But if you'd like to see what it's like to have someone who cooks and sings and plays the guitar, who tap dances in the kitchen and brings you coffee in the morning, who never yells and is always kind, I've got a trade for you.

And maybe even a reality show.

GNO #3

The ladies of Theatre West met again last weekend at Leslie's amazingly designed-for-comfort but totally cool home in the valley. They've met a few times since the first get-together (see post "Girls Night Out" October, 10, 2009) - this makes the third I was able to attend. The purpose for last night's gathering was to celebrate Jane's and my birthdays.

(Now I hate it when someone provides a photo and no one is identified - so in case you're wondering, sitting (from left to right) are Seemah and Shelia. Standing: Cyndy, me, Elise, Jane and Leslie.)

You should know that I really don't make a fuss about birthdays anymore. A little cake, a card, and good night. Jane, on the other hand, owns the entire month and this marked the 4th week of full on party for her.

I arrived and there were balloons galore inside the house. We all sat outside in the lovely courtyard and everyone had brought food to barbecue - and once again it was wonderful to sit amongst a group of creative, smart, comfortable women and just fill up on stories.

Empty bottles of wine and sparkling water piled up and throughout the evening and amidst loads of laughter, we learned that Sheila just finished shooting another episode of Mad Men, Leslie is working against a deadline on a screenplay for FOX, and Cyndy (who, by the way, stood up for Bob and me at our wedding) is enjoying a respite from international work related travel. Also on hand was Elise, who held theatrical court and improvised the beginnings of a new play about Seemah's famous brownies. The legendary Saint Seemah of Theatre West - unquestionably the most gorgeous 86 year old woman who ever lived and baker of brownies worthy of inspiring plays - was also there. Jane - in full birthday spirit (a full month later!) shared a recording of her supremely talented son, John David (aka Aiden Moore of the band Carney) as well as a terrific song she wrote that is currently being shopped around. Missing were Vivien who lives too far away and is tending to her family farm between acting jobs and Anne who, back from standing at the very edges of the Grand Canyon (there are anxiety producing photos to prove it),was nursing the effects of kidney stones.

Oh and me. Working mom from Thousand Oaks.

It is reasonable to assume that having been out of anything really creative, theatrical or cultural for a very long time, I might feel a bit like a duck out of water. But happily, on nights like these, I find it all still runs thick in my veins so I settle in as though I'm moulding myself into a chair made of memory foam.

So what makes a group of women like this so fascinating and fun to be with? Apart from the fact that they are all fairly fascinating and fun in and of themselves, I think it also has something to do with the fact that we don't do it every day. Not that I couldn't see these women more frequently. I really do like them all. But there is something about occasional get-togethers that make the getting together feel more like events. Worthy of a photo or two. Or three. Everyone lets their hair down a little bit more. Everyone listens to each other a bit moreand reveals a bit more. And that all makes for an evening that's a little more memorable.

When we all got down to the birthday business, a cake with both Jane's and my names came out with candles. Cards were issued; mine had dinosaurs on it so you can guess the joke... And then they handed me an envelope. They had collected funds for both Jane and me (and I'm sure a little besides) and put it in one pot and gifted it all to Ehlers Danlos Network CARES for continued research that will benefit my girls. It was a significant and meaningful check. And buckets spilled from my eyes and I was, for once, speechless.

Watching the remainder of evening unfold, I couldn't help but conjure the ghosts of all of us 20 plus years ago, side by side with who we are now. And it is very gratifying and validating. We all turned out. And as Elise said: "There is a play here somewhere." And wouldn't that be fun!

I also experienced, for the first time, a birthday tradition of Jane's. If you are NOT the birthday girl, you can take a ring from your finger and drop it over one of the burning candles. If the birthday girl blows out all the candles - you get your wish too. There was something very sweet and kind of magical in seeing everyone work a ring off their hand and contribute to the cake. It was aglow with candle light and adorned with gold and silver and diamonds. We waited until everyone had their wish and Jane and I did not disappoint. We blew them all out. But had we not, they would have been covered because my wish was that all of their wishes would come true.

Lovely, lovely people.