Forty By Forty

Number 30: See Carmen at the Met

     Carmen is my favorite opera, and having never been to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York, I added this to the list myself. When I did, I had no idea whether it would be performed before I turned forty or not, so it was cool to discover it would have a quick run in November and December. And who better to take me then Andrew Barrett, who is charming, handsome, funny and looks great in a suit? He also lives in New York, which helped. 

    Andrew was my boyfriend in the late nineties and we lived together in a cute little house in West Hollywood, with a furry orange fella named Otis. We both looked and were very funny together. Looked because I'm 5.2 and he's 6.4, and were, because we were young, carefree and obsessed with making each other laugh with made-up songs, crazy dances and home made accents. Andrew was in the screenwriting program at the AFI, and that's when I first started to think about applying. It took me another 10 years to actually write a script and fill out the application, but he planted the seed, and I'm eternally grateful for it.

    Back then, Andrew also started the Young Storytellers Foundation with two other AFI students, an organization that takes screenwriters and other film folk into innercity schools, to teach the elementary and middle school students to write scripts. At the end of each session, real actors come and act out the scripts and it's one of the most rewarding and fun things to watch. This incredible program now operates in 36 schools. And yours truly has mentored a few budding screenwriters and was recently elected to their board. 

 The way we were, circa 1997

   Andrew and I met in 1997. He came up to me during the break of a seminar we were both at, and we started dating right away. At some point, he told me that he noticed me when I took my cardigan off and stretched, revealing some sort of tight top, in the middle of one of the sessions. Months later I fessed up that the stretch was solely for his benefit. He says it was the first of many manipulations on my part. In my defense, he gave me the fattest years of his life. No joke. After our breakup, which was quite lovely and mature like most of our relationship, he lost a ton of weight, chopped his hair off and became a yoga teacher with the most insanely toned body.

    There aren't a lot of places I can show up at 6am after an overnight flight, put PJ's on and crawl into bed, but Andrew's place in Chelsea is one of them. It was a long time ago we were boyfriend/girlfriend but that comfort level and easiness is still there and we talk about everything, like we always have. After a six or seven hour nap, we took a nice walk, got a bite to eat and then went back home to get ready for the Met.

 
    Having been disappointed at Viva Elvis the week before, I was a bit anxious settling into my seat, but my worries were gone the second the conductor came out and the orchestra started playing the prelude. I was mesmerized from beginning to end, as was Andrew. The familiar set made me smile and as soon as "Sur La Place, Chacun Passe" started, the "Forty By Forty warm fuzzy feeling" with its signature watery eyes came back, like an old friend. 

    Slowly and carefully the story unfolded in the most beautiful of ways, which is the best part of seeing an opera. It's not served on a platter like an action movie or a music video, where fast cuts show you what you should see and feel, removing your ability to connect more personally. It's subtle, so you have to bring yourself into it, which I did. I sat perfectly still and let it all wash over me. Tension, emotions, longing, and of course, lust...all bubbling right under the surface, eager to get out. I was excited, eager, hopeful, jealous, angry, and heart broken. I was in it.

  A first for the blog...

   At the intermission, we stepped outside and smoked a joint. The Swede in me is concerned about divulging that sort of information in the blog, but I'm nearing the end so I'm losening up a bit. We were both so affected by the experience, it seemed like the thing to do. As a result, we had one of the most fascinating conversations about life, love and opera. It would be great if I could recount it here, but alas, I don't remember much.

...making some sort of brilliant point... 

    I do remember that we agreed on opera being the best kind of foreplay. It's a mystery that more men haven't tapped into it. Sure, it's a big time commitment, and opera tickets aren't cheap, but it's a guaranteed night of passion, even on a first date. After spending a whole evening with characters who don't give into their passions, or fulfill their wants, you want to go home and do it for them. Opera is intimate, and guys liking opera is sexy. 

 
   As the bell tolled, we went back in and quickly looked for something that would disguise our new and very distinct smell, and found the perfect thing; a salmon sandwich. It was super delicious and I thought it worked pretty well, until the couples on each side of us started to sniff, and then whisper. When the opera started back up, I found it very difficult to not sing along, and also to not conduct from my seat like I do when I listen to Carmen at home. I had to force my right hand down on several occasions.

    Having not "remembered" how Carmen ends, Andrew was quite devastated when Carmen was knifed outside the big bullfight. He was sure there was more, but alas, it was curtain call time and we applauded and applauded.

    Next, we headed to Norwood, a members-only club Andrew belongs to that I love. And not just because one of the managers carefully examined my face along with the rest of me, promptly declared I couldn't possibly be a day over 30, then sending us complimentary Dom Perignon. Well, that's actually the biggest reason. But it also has everything under one roof; a couple of bars and lounges with comfy living room type furniture, a restaurant, a beautiful outdoor garden, and on this night, a DJ.    

    We went upstairs and danced to my favorite era, the eighties, for quite a while. It made me so happy I couldn't stop smiling and laughing. When we lived together, we used to just turn on music randomly and dance around the house. In fact, we've made up some pretty interesting dances and seeing Andrew's familiar moves was beyond hilarious. Then more drinks, then home, then we sang and played the guitar...the Beatles of course, followed by an even more fascinating conversation in bed, before crashing.         

    Thank you Georges Bizet for composing a beautiful opera, to acclaimed British director Richard Eyre and Elina Garanca, whose Carmen moved me so...but most of all, to Andrew for being the bestest opera companion and friend an almost forty-year-old could ask for. 

Number 29: See Viva Elvis in Las Vegas

    The last time I was in Vegas with Toni Pickett was just before I got married. Ellie had hosted a beautiful baking themed wedding shower at her house, which sparked my passion for relieving stress and spreading joy through delicious baked goods. After the shower, Toni and my friend Claudia decided I would need a more wild and crazy send-off if I was to "make it" through married life. So a bachelorette party in Vegas was planned and perfectly executed. Of course, we all know now that the Vegas weekend wasn't enough to "make it" through married life either. 

     Toni and I met while working at the Maui Film Festival a few years ago and quickly realized we are pretty much the same person. Toni is the Asian version of me and I'm the Swedish version of her. Our birthdays are close together, and the cool thing about that is that whenever one of us struggles with something, anything, the other will come to the rescue and understand like no one else in this world. That, and our big shoe collection. We wear the same size which means we both have access to Jimmy Choos, Dolce & Gabbanas, Stuart Weitzmans, Givenchys, Pradas, Christian Louboutins, and on and on.

Vegas Take One 2005

    We piled in the car and headed for Vegas with the Red Hot Chili Peppers on and started to play a game that I had invented a few days earlier while having dinner with my friend Hailey. The idea is to give everyone you know a Native American type of nickname. I apologize in advance if this is offensive to anyone. But it's pretty fun. Ours were "She who runs from love," and "She who expects too much from love."

    Toni and I had a lot of catching up to do with mutual friends and separate ones, so we talked about "He who sleeps with a mask," "He who will always cheat," "He who will never grow up," "He who rubs me the right way," "He who deleted us both off Facebook," "He who can't settle down," "He who drinks too much," "He who smokes during sex", and after hitting up a creepy rest stop bathroom where they sold condom extenders in a rusty old machine,  a dear someone was nick named, "He who doesn't need an extender." 

  The last few miles before arriving we switched to the Ratpack which was way more Vegas appropriate and gave me the opportunity to do something I love; SCAT with Sammy Davis Jr. in the background. I could tell Toni was barely tolerating it, but kept on doing it anyway. We finally arrived, checked into the Palms, had a bite to eat, a nap and got ready for the show. We're both big Elvis fans so we were happy, excited and hopeful as we headed over to Aria where Viva Elvis lives.

    Viva Elvis. I'm at a bit of a loss for words. Not because it was so super fantastic that I cried my eyes out, which is a common occurrence for a Forty By Forty adventure. But because we were a bit disappointed and that's a first for this blog. Of course, there were some GREAT numbers. There was the giant blue suede shoe for that song, some great acrobatics during "Jailhouse Rock," fantastic costumes for "King Creole" and incredible bar tricks during "Return to Sender," which all made me warm and fuzzy.

    But all in all, the show was uneven and definitely had some weird moments. There was a lot of mediocre dancing, and singing by a girl we quickly named "She who thinks she duets with Elvis," after reading her interview in the program. It read, "If someone told me I'd be singing a duet with Elvis 5 years ago, I wouldn't have believed them." Guess what? You're not singing with Elvis. Because he is dead.

    There was also a pretty morbid interpretation of what Elvis' relationship with his twin brother would have been like, had the brother not died in childbirth. It had two similarly dressed guys climbing and playing inside a giant guitar hanging in the ceiling, which ended with one of them (the brother) falling into a big black hole. Weird. 

No cape for me...

    After the show, we quickly headed to the overcrowded Elvis store to remedy our disappointment by investing in an Elvis-type cape for me to wear when I perform at the Forty By Forty Party, but the only one they had was $20,ooo AND you had to sign something promising you won't perform in it. Needless to say, I settled on some Elvis guitar picks, hoping those will work to channel the King instead.

"Whoever invented this is a GENIUS!"    

   Next up, dinner at Lemongrass, where I found the most delicious drink of all time. Anyone who knows me knows that I am always looking for the perfect chai, so imagine my surprise when I found it in Las Vegas. Called the Spice Chai, the surprise ingredient was rum! Not surprising? That after a few sips of my new favorite drink on an empty stomach, I felt I had to announce its power to everyone at the restaurant. I did, which solidified our Native American nickname as "The Drunk Duo" to the rest of the patrons at the restaurant.

Haze...and after a while it all was...

    After a delicious dinner, we went club hopping, something I don't do a whole lot of in LA, but I love to dance and the music was really good so it was really fun. All the club names in Vegas have one syllable - Haze, Rain, Pure, Crown, Blush, Jet, Krave - so it's hard to keep track of where you are... but I suppose it doesn't really matter. And the funny thing is, no matter how slutty you think you look, or how drunk you are, there is always someone way sluttier and more drunk, so you don't ever have to feel bad or weird about yourself.

    I'm torn as to what to write next. I was hoping I wouldn't need to invoke the old Vegas slogan "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" because Toni and I used that one in Maui already, years ago. But I think it's for the best. In my defense, the music was really loud and I was sure he said he was 34, not 24. And yes, Toni was quick to give him a Native American nick name. Something simple that says it all. "He who was born in 1986." 

    We did finally get to sleep after using our matching capped tooth brushes and mini toothpastes. I have to say, there ain't no snuggle like a Dreamweaver snuggle. That's what I call Toni and that's the ring tone I have for when she calls me. And vice versa. I'm not explaining that either. 

    The next morning we had a delicious breakfast, some much needed coffee, braided our hair, and hit the road. The drive home was a bit subdued as it always is when you leave Vegas. It was my turn to drive so I did, jacked up on candy and with Simon and Garfunkel on. No scatting but plenty of sweet harmonizing and some re-capping of the night before, followed by hysterical laughter. A great trip all in all. 

Las Vegas Take Two 2010

    In conclusion; Thank you. Thank you very much. To Vegas and to my sweet Asian counterpart Toni who makes everything and anything fun, especially when Cirque de Soileil disappoints. And finally, ladies and gentlemen... Marika has left the building...

Number 28: Go Horseback Riding

   I once got thrown off a horse in Sweden, while riding with my friend Hilda, and peed my pants as a result. I can still remember the feeling of warmth as the pee went down my legs. Then a few seconds later, I was cold and wet. And at about 16, way too old to have peed my pants. I've ridden since, but not for many years, and not out and about in the actual wilderness. So I was delighted when my friend Ashley invited me to go horseback riding in Malibu.  

   Actually, Ashley did more than just invite me to go. She sent an official evite with the words "giddy-up, cowgirl, boots and spurs," and with a reminder to turn my clocks back the night before, so I would be ready on time. My options for responding were "giddy-up" (yes) "may be lassoed" (maybe) or "snake in my boots" (no.) She definitely wins the price for most creative Forty By Forty invite. 

   Ashley is young and fantastic. I met her years ago and thought she was so amazing that I recommended her for a job at the PR firm where I was working, incidentally taking on some of my responsibilities as my work load was beyond heavy. Having been an assistant for years, I found it hard to delegate and have someone take on "my" work...so I'm pretty sure I was a pain in the ass at first, thinking no one can do a job as great as I can. After the adjustment period though, days were happy and fun, and we both learned and grew a lot, and became very close. 

Mr. and Mrs. Justin Killian

   With the risk of sounding like someone's grandmother, I attended Ashley's wedding in the Palisades in September and cried my eyes out at what a complete, sophisticated, smart, independent and beautiful woman she has become. I also cried because she wore the most gorgeous dress, showing off her arms, which are incredibly toned and have been coveted by me for years. In fact, you can find them on my "steal" list. You know the one where you get to pick other people's body parts to "better" yourself? I've got Jessica Biel's ass on there, so she's in good company. 

    I was told to wear jeans and sneakers, which is hard for me. Where I come from, we value footwear and subsequently wear shoes instead of sneakers, unless we are working out. Ashley rolled her eyes and told me to pipe down when I bitched about it, so I did. We arrived happy and worn out from catching up, ready for an adventure in the Malibu Mountains. 

Me and Herr Nilsson

     After being introduced to our horses, we quickly decided to rename them because A. We couldn't remember their actual names, and B. We thought it would make it easier to connect with them. Ashley named her horse Louis - with a silent "s," and I named mine Herr Nilsson, after Pippi Longstocking's horse, because it had spots on it.  

Pippi and the real Herr Nilsson

    It wasn't until I got home and googled Herr Nilsson that I realized that's not the name of Pippi's horse at all. Herr Nilsson is the monkey. Lilla Gubben is the horse. No wonder he kept on bucking... being named after a monkey.

Ash and Louis

    It was the most beautiful of fall days and the air was so crisp and fresh. The ride started and we climbed up in the mountains with a few girls from UCLA, who made me look like a professional equestrian. They sat slumped down and panicked when the horses started to trot, while Ashley and I maintained a solid posture and posted, which is when you rise out of the saddle for every other stride, looking über sophisticated. And British.

      Herr Nilsson, or just Nilsson for short, had most likely had a Saturday night as indulgent as mine, as evident by his need to snack away at every bush or patch of grass we went by. He was also determined to not be the last horse, because whenever Ashley and Louis trotted by, Nilsson would get pissed and just take off, galloping ahead, to finally squeeze himself (and me) into a better position. I came to appreciate those moments as the most fun ones, where I just couldn't stop laughing, no matter how hard I tried. 

    For the next hour or so, Ashley and I beamed and laughed and smiled and smirked and felt so connected to nature and each other, while cruising through the most beautiful mountains with spectacular views and the perfect amount of warmth from the sun. We loved everything; the heavens, the earth, the sunshine, and of course, Louis and Nilsson. Horseback riding is one of those things that just makes you happy. And we were.

   Today, my ass is sore. And I miss Nilsson. We really had something special. I know I wasn't just another customer. We were like Zorro and Toronado, like Red and Seabiscuit, and yes, like Pippi and her crazy monkey Herr Nilsson.  Thanks, Ash for a beautiful day - I really loved it.