Forty By Forty

Number 35: Boxing Match

   I don't remember who suggested this or how it came about but I thought it might be a fun one to do. I'm a fan of taking out one's aggressions athletically and what better way to do that than with boxing gloves on? 

   I've noticed that when I start to think of something, the universe shifts around me and I manifest what it is that I want. I know...I'm become way too new-agey in my old age. A few days before I was scheduled to go boxing for the first time with Guy to take this task on, I was invited to a charity event by Diane and Roger. The charity event was to benefit Beit T'Shuva, a great organization that helps Jews combat and overcome addiction while reconnecting to Judaism. 

    

                                     Me and my one of my boxing trainers

   It turns out it was a boxing themed event, so who showed up, if not Frank Stallone, Freddie Roach, and most importantly, Sugar Ray Leonard? I was floored and delighted and it turned out my special VIP wrist band entitled me to talk to him...so I did. He couldn't have been more cool. I told him about my Forty By Forty project and how I was getting in the ring. Then I paused so he could tell me I don't look 40. Which he did. And he gave me some good pointers too. They are private. 

   So, Guy (Number 33: Go Rock Climbing) was gracious enough to take me to his boxing gym although I suspect he feels similarly about women boxers as he does about women soccer players, "I'm not bein' a chauvinist or anythin', it's just the way it is. They just don't have the same athletic ability or genetics." 

Before Jewish boxers Burnet & Cahn, there was Max Baer

   We headed to Fortune Gym which made me feel like I was in a Rocky movie. One of the good ones. A small gym with a knit capped Macka at the front, a ring, some punching bags and other equipment, owned by Aussie and Former Heavyweight Contender Justin Fortune who, despite his manly, muscular exterior, is a very sweet and funny guy. From Manly coincidentally. Guy and I did the "double Dutch" for a bit, then a lot of jabs, the speed bag, and later that night, my hands were shaking and cramping up while I was taking the LAPD essay entrance exam. You all know how that ended...

   I started going to the gym with Guy, and also started training with Mysti Friedman, one of the trainers and a former boxer herself. Mysti is really sweet and fun, but also a hard ass and a queen of manipulation. "You know those dimples you used to have when you where younger, where your lower back meets your ass?" she asked me casually one day. "Yeah...?" I replied. "Well this exercise will bring them back." SOLD. I've loved every minute of my training with her and not just because my increased stamina, energy and the slight resurgence of arm muscles for the first time in my life, but because I've found there's no better way to start the day, than with Mysti and her "burpies," "ghetto booty," and of course, the "dimple maker." 

                         

  After a couple of practice sparring sessions with Whitney, who also trains at the gym, we decided that I was ready for the real fight, with amateur boxer Dina. Mysti was gracious enough to open the gym on a Sunday to make it happen, and I got there early, filled with excitement and nervous energy.

    I was bouncing off the walls a bit, when Matthew (Number 32: Ride a Mechanical Bull) arrived. He told me to relax and breathe for the second time this week. He had generously offered to serve as cut man, should I need one. I had said yes immediately, figuring that if we can't have a pro stitcher or a real doctor on hand, having someone who can play one would be the next best thing. It turns out he also has a background in boxing, which proved to be helpful as I warmed up. 

     Lorne and Zoe walked in next for support and cheering, and I hammed it up a bit for the camera. It was almost go time....and finally Guy showed up, immediately pulling me aside to get me in the right mind set, and to have me warm up on the bag. He said I was having way too much fun and being too silly and that I needed to get serious. It was a great pep talk and he definitely got me riled up, slightly angry, and ready to get in the ring. He talked about how to pace myself, remember to protect my face, never just throw one jab, always two or three, and to keep moving. All while Mysti wrapped me and put my gloves on. 

My least favorite part...the smearing of vaseline on my face...

     The headgear and mouth piece came next, and then Dina and I got in the ring. Mysti was the referee, Guy was in my corner, Matthew was the time keeper, and Lorne and Zoe filmed. It's hard to describe what came next because it all happened so fast. Two minutes, which is a standard round in amateur boxing goes by really quickly. 

     We moved around, both carefully at first, and then things picked up. I wasn't afraid, I was really excited and having the best time, although it was exhausting beyond belief...it's hard to imagine how much energy it takes to move around like that for two minutes...nothing can prepare you for it, although Mysti's hardcore conditioning comes very close. 

    I found that I was most "in the zone" when I was just breathing, moving and my mind was quiet. I listened to what Guy was screaming and did what he told me, to whatever extent I could. Dina has way more experience than I, so she moved fast, was better at ducking and protected herself really well, so it was hard to get in there. But I did my best, and got a few good ones in. It's the best feeling by the way, to throw a jab or a hook, and have it hit perfectly...

    The second I started to analyze what was happening, or strategize, I got punched. Which I thoroughly enjoyed as well...almost more than when I hit Dina. At one point she got me good, and for a split second I was a bit dislocated. It made me feel alive and awake, and my adrenaline started pumping, which then made me hit back harder, and move faster. It was awesome.

    I heard Matthew yell "10 seconds" so I jabbed and jabbed as much as I could before he yelled "time." It's weird, there were so many more things I wanted to do but it was over. At least the first round. I was more comfortable the second round, but also more tired. I held my ground as best as I could but it was a definite struggle to keep my arms up, move around and jab at a good pace.

   The winner? See below. 

     Thanks to Fortune Gym, to my amazing trainers Mysti and Guy, to Matthew who unfortunately didn't need to stitch me up, and to Lorne and Zoe for coming.

    Most of all, thanks to Dina for getting in the ring with me...a great day...a great fight...I can't thank you enough!

    And now, something that's becoming a Forty By Forty staple...the actual boxing match on video. If I was more competent in iMovie, I would have made a highlight reel, so my apologies for the lengthy videos.

   

 

 

Number 34: Do Something Kinky and X-Rated

   Hmmm. Ok. How do I write about this while maintaining dignity and respect? Without offending those of you who so generously offered to "help" with this one? Without embarrassing my family? I actually toyed with the idea of just pretending I never did this one. BUT, this is my project and although I didn't imagine sharing every detail about it on the internet when I first started...this one happened. And it's on the list. So here it is. One of the shorter blogs I'll write for the Forty By Forty project. 

    I'm fairly liberal when it comes to sex. And no, that is not the same thing as having a string of one-night stands, or a different lover every night. To me, being liberal means not thinking sex is bad or shameful, and being open to exploring all of its different aspects. It's meant to be fun, not serious. As long as you practice safe sex.  

   There were a few things I thought I might want do for this one. With someone who is charming and sexy and has a devious mind. Someone who I trust with my own somewhat devious mind. If you are racking your brain trying to figure this one out, you might as well give up. Because it could have happened last night. Or last week. Or even six months ago. My lips are sealed so don't bother with that inquisitive text. It's in the vault.  

   There were some texts sent back and forth, making it clear that nothing was off limits, and everything was possible. "Anything?" I asked. "Anything," he replied instantly. My mind excitedly started to imagine various options and I was quite relieved about the whole thing, until a few minutes later, when the next text arrived inquiring as to what I wanted to do. Oh wait, I now have to ask for what I want? Shit. I texted back. "What if you say no?" Another quick reply, "I'll say yes." I froze. 

   And there it was. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I considered texting back saying, "Thank you, but I'm just going to take an Argentine Tango lesson instead." Then I pondered not texting back at all. Ever. Like, what if I just never replied and then disconnected my phone? I stopped for a minute and just "watched" my mind come up with grand and complicated excuses. Then I became fascinated by what was happening in my mind, and interested in why I was so confronted and uncomfortable. I couldn't believe I was having such an issue with this, being someone who communicates quite freely. I was stunned.

     And so was he, it seemed. He was now curious as to why I couldn't just text it, since I'm fairly relaxed about sex. And I couldn't come up with a good reason because I honestly didn't know. It took me two days to text back my desire for this challenge. And when I did, I almost threw up waiting for the response. Longest hour in history. Of course his reply was "yes." 

    It turned out that the challenge with this task wasn't the actual doing, but the communicating about it. It was interesting, confronting and eye-opening. The conclusion I came to was that although nothing makes me feel better than doing things for others, I'm uncomfortable being at the receiving end of compliments, gifts and "experiences." I have to make an effort to be gracious and appreciative when friends give me things, or do nice things for me. It's not because I'm not thankful, but because when someone does something kind and generous for me, it makes me vulnerable, and quite moved. And the thing is, I don't mind being vulnerable or moved...I just want to control when it's going to happen...

    So for this task, I learned how to let go and receive. I learned how to ask for something I want, and be happy and appreciative when I got it. I was even able to say what the other options that had lingered in my mind were. To which his response was, "we can do them all, you know?" And that's all I have to say about that. I learned so much from this, it blew my mind. And it wasn't like the thing itself wasn't mind-blowing. Because it was. Really.

   Thanks, W.

 

Number 33: Go Rock Climbing

    My friend Guy Burnet would want me to say he's tough and cool, a perfect gentleman but also a ladies man, a great boxer, and an even better soccer player. I will happily say all of that, because it's true, while adding that the cool brown leather jacket he wears is a ladies jacket. And that at Hannukah dinner at Bob & Hil's this week, he proudly announced a huge new breakthrough in technology: wireless printing. "Do you know that I can click to print in one room, and have it come out of a printer in the next room?" The funniest part was, he couldn't work out why we were all laughing...and kept asking "why is that funny?" until Rosie - because I was still laughing uncontrollably - told him we've all been doing that for the last ten years. 

    Guy has nestled himself in my heart very quickly, almost like a fifth brother. He has the ability to wind me up with just one word or even a quick look, like the rest of them. But he is also a treasure of a friend, not too cocky about his dreamy looks, very protective of me and my heart, and with a heritage as diverse as mine... his mother is Jewish Italian and his father British. As if all that wasn't enough, he appreciates my baked goods, which is a great way to stay on my good side. Upon tasting my Indian cupcakes, Guy exclaimed "It's like Christmas in my mouth..." in his sweet Oliver Twist accent. 

 Yes, Guy, I had to embarrass you with this smoldering photo...

   Having decided that indoor rock climbing would satisfy completing this task, Guy got into my car, which surprised me because he is usually frightened to drive with me. Not because of my driving skills, which are excellent, but because my car is a convertible, so when the top is down, Guy feels like he's going to fall out. I suppose with the weather being a bit chilly, he rightly assumed I wouldn't take the top down, and felt safe.

     We headed to a place called Rockreation in West LA, and as usual, started by filling out the familiar release & emergency contact form. Guy listed me as his emergency contact, and under "relationship" he wrote "bum chums."  I decided to shake things up a bit, and listed Ken Olin. Relationship: "Daddy."

Happy the harness is loose around the balls...

   Next, we put our shoes on and got strapped into harnesses, but not before Guy had whined about being uncomfortable having things tightly tied around his balls, to the girls at the front desk. Two things come to mind here: 1. What else has Guy had tied to his balls? and, B. How is it that a British accent can turn something like that into smiles and giggles from the girls? If some American dude had said it, it would have just been gross. 

Guy and "shirtless guy"

    We walked in, looked around and immediately saw the douchiest person in the world. An overly muscular little dude in tight bleached jeans and no shirt. He was looking at a wall, deep in thought, then started to do some "fake air climbing" to figure out what exactly he would do once he got up. I'm sure it's good to have a plan, but it just looked so overly cocky and ridiculous. After all, Rockcreation isn't Mount Everest. We named him "shirtless guy," took a photo secretly and moved on. 

     We met Ryan, "our guy" and I started with a wall that looked fairly easy. Ryan gave no instructions but just said to climb up, and that he would help guide me if necessary. The first couple of steps up were pretty easy, so I climbed up a few more. Then I looked down and got scared.

     Guy and Ryan were talking down below and I tried really hard to look calm and un-scared, while telling myself to breathe. I couldn't wait to get to the top, just so I could come down again. I think I might be afraid of heights after all. I have now bungee jumped, gone skydiving and attended trapeze school, but I still get scared every time I get up there. It doesn't stop me from doing it, and I'm always happy after, but I see those falling scenarios so vividly every time. 

    I was sweating, which was weird because it was just a few minutes and I didn't think I was exhausting myself at all. I reached the top, and got to do that cool slide down, while bouncing my feet off the wall every few feet. I could feel how cool I looked. "Vertical Limit" cool. 

   I wiped some sweat off, and prepared Guy for how exhausting it would be. He started, and pretty much just climbed right up really quickly. By the time I got my phone out to take a photo, he was already at the top. He came down with zero beads of sweat and acted like it was the easiest thing in the world. "What's next?" he said and we moved over to another wall. 

   Guy picked a really hard wall and I could see Ryan hesitating. He obviously didn't think I had it in me to climb a wall with a wide incline, which of course meant I had to prove him wrong. I got up a few steps and focused, really looking around to find the perfect colorful blob to place my foot on. It was going alright until I got to the incline part. It was all arm muscles, and although I have some on account of my boxing training, it didn't seem to be enough to lift and hold the rest of me in place while moving up.

   I started to sweat again, and my breathing pace picked up. I went beyond arm muscles and tapped into anger and stubbornness, but nothing could move me further up. I swore to myself, then looked down and yelled that I couldn't do it. Guy did his version of a pep talk, which is a half-excited "oh, c'mon...s'not that hard..." and Ryan said he could give me a break, which meant he'd hold me and I could let go for a few seconds until I was ready again. I said "yes, please" but once he had me, I really couldn't start climbing again because my arms were cramping up. So sore. I gave up. 

    Irritatingly, Guy swooped up the wall like Errol Flynn in a pirate movie. Because his legs are so much longer than mine, he could just skip the hard incline part, and step right past it, getting to the top in seconds again.  And even more irritating; he looked way cooler than I did when he was coming down.

     A couple more climbs where I was dying from exhaustion while Guy looked fresh and happy. I glanced around at 6-year-old Caroline and explained, "I have a boxing match tomorrow so I can't go full out...have to save my strength." She nodded in what I interpreted as a patronizing way. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I felt ridiculed, and it was definitely time to go.

      Guy, who originally had questioned the legitimacy of this challenge saying that "it just doesn't make sense to climb up there for nothing," adding, "if they had ice-cream or some sort of incentive up there, it would be different," actually admitted he had quite enjoyed himself.

    Next up, lunch, Christmas shopping in Santa Monica, and Christmas caroling in the car on the way home. I wanted to take the top off so badly, to punish Guy for being so much better than I, but I'm not that kind of person. Who am I kidding? I totally am. But it was too cold.

     Thank you Ryan, for not dropping me, and thank you sweet Guy for a fantastic day! 

Number 32: Ride a Mechanical Bull

    I first met Matthew when I interned with the writers on "Brothers & Sisters" last year. I had been given the task of interviewing him for the show's blog as he was directing his first episode. I asked him if I could take his photo and he said "no" quite coldly, and walked away. Great start. Then someone explained that he has a dry sense of humor and was probably kidding, so I tried again, and after some eye rolling was allowed to take the photo and made arrangements to interview him. 

    The blog turned out to be pretty funny, so funny that it's not available to read online anymore, but one part of it was that I made fun of how nationalistic he is about Wales, which is where he was born and raised. He gets riled up if you call him a Brit and insists the Prince of Wales isn't really his prince. I still take every opportunity I can to get under his skin about this very topic, just because I know he's sensitive about it, but in fact, it's one of the things I most admire about him. He's not only well spoken, well read and well traveled, but he has a really strong connection to his heritage and that's inspiring to me. In fact, it's made me jealous...and subsequently lead me to reevaluate my relationship to Sweden.  Which I'm in the process of mending, having become an American citizen last year. 

A serious man...about his roots

    Matthew is so Welsh that he recently wrote a book about a journey he made last year to a Welsh speaking colony in the Andes, which was formed in 1865 and still exists. He did it on horseback, along with descendants of the original Welshmen who made the trek 125 years ago. It's a fascinating story, and I suppose the second thing that impresses me about Mr. Rhys. And now to the third. 

     After he'd seen my Forty By Forty list, Matthew bragged about his mechanical bull skills for months, before we headed to the Saddle Ranch on Sunset a couple of nights ago. The Saddle Ranch is not your typical hangout for a charming Welshman, but it turns out he's competed and won bull riding competitions here so he was in his element. As with many of my challenges, this one required a waiver and emergency contact. I toyed with the idea of putting Sally Field down again, as I did for Number 13: Skydive, but I still don't have her number. I'm pretty sure Matthew listed Ron Rifkin.

     Having heard how bruised you can get and how much it can hurt, I wasn't eager to go first, so I let Matthew jump on the bull and get going. I was astonished. He barely moved. The bull went around and around and shook and picked up the speed and he stayed on, looking like a cowboy with his hand up in the air. I was so taken by his talents that A. I missed turning the flash on, thus getting no photographic evidence of his triumph, and B. I assumed, incorrectly, that this was an easy task. 

Getting last minute tips by the smooth bull operator, an obvious Karate Kid fan

    After the Welsh matador got off (the bull) I got a really good pep talk. Matthew had tried to give me pointers earlier, but that was before I realized he actually knows how to ride a mechanical bull, so it had gone in one ear and out the other. I eagerly listened to his coaching this time around. He said to squeeze my thighs, to lean back when the bull dips and lean forward when it bucks. He added that it's all about relaxing, breathing deeply, letting my body go limp, so basically not tense up. Because it's when you tense up that it can really hurt.  

     I got on the bull, cocky and secure. Then I felt uneasy as it started moving. Just as I got used to the slow pace and felt I could handle it, it started to move faster and faster and with the speed picking up, my confidence started weening. It got harder and harder. I had my hand up and was squeezing my thighs as instructed, but it was hard to remember where to lean so I was thrown off about thirty seconds in, making this the shortest Forty By Forty experience, but by no means the least fun. And, in real bull riding, the number of seconds to stay on is eight, so I didn't do that poorly.

    I can't remember who put this on my list, but I'm glad they did... mechanical bull riding is an all-American activity and I've been wanting to do it for some time. I really thought it would be hard and painful, but to my surprise, I found it to be a fun and delightful past time. My ass hurts a bit today but it's to be expected from what I understand. 

   Ddiolch 'ch, Matthew for taking me, and talking me through it calmly beforehand. It made all the difference. And also for being super Welsh while riding a bull like a real American. 

 And for the second time in Forty By Forty history, the video:

 

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. 

Number 25: Learn to Play the Guitar. Again.

     I've always wanted to play an instrument and a few years ago, my friend Ronny and I took some guitar lessons, but I couldn't get into it. My main struggle was that the guitar was too big for me to hold comfortably, and the neck was too wide, so my fingers couldn't get to the chords. I was told to get a junior guitar but I thought that would look silly, so I quit instead. Really mature.  About as mature as blaming my parents for my instrumental shortcomings.

    So I put this on the Forty By Forty list, hoping against all hope and predictability that something would happen that would inspire or force me to tackle this, because I imagined that the result would be gratifying and somehow complete my life. I know, that's a lot to ask from guitar lessons, but when you love music as much as I do, being able to play an instrument could very well have that impact.

Mr. James Webber, smiling on the outside, but plotting my guitar demise on the inside

    The "inspiration" I was looking for came when my friend (and now fellow musician) James jokingly told me to cross it off the list, because with only three months left before my birthday, he thought there might be easier tasks to complete. As friends and blog followers know, the easiest way to get me to do something, is to tell me it might not be the best idea. So that's when I decided I would actually take it on. I asked him what song would demonstrate to him that I could play the guitar and he laughed and said, "any song you learn will demonstrate that you can play that song." More fuel for me to succeed. 

Singer, song-writer, guitarist Sully Clare 

  I checked in with Cyndi because both her sweet husband Temple and her sweet daughter Sully plays guitar, so I thought that would be a good place to start as far as finding a good teacher. I was referred to Michelle Payne who is not just a great guitar teacher but a fellow Yogi. Her blog 38 Ways to Change the World Through Music is a must read. 

    Our first lesson took place at the Guitar Center and when I met Michelle, I knew right away we'd be friends. And it felt like she would actually be able to teach me how to play the guitar. She's soulful, fun and a huge Beatles fan. More into John than "my" Paul but that's alright. More of Paul's cheeks for me.

    I thought it would be hard and that I would get frustrated and feel incompetent. I didn't. Because Michelle teaches in a way that allowed me to play songs right away. At our first lesson, I played the blues. Then she asked me to think about some songs I wanted to learn and I listened through the whole Beatles catalogue before settling on "Love Me Do." The first time I played it all the way through I cried.

    I know, these blogs are getting more and more sentimental, but I love music so much. And then, after 40 years of appreciating music just by listening and singing along, someone like Michelle comes along and gives me the ability to express that love in a new way...through my hands...I don't know how else to explain it. It's so magical. 

    I must have played "Love Me Do" hundreds of times now. And I've moved up from the easy chords to the trickier, fancier, more advanced chords. I still tear up every time.

    The other thing I'm trying to work out with this new passion, is where my boobs go. My right one specifically. This is the unspoken part of  learning to play the guitar I've discovered. No one talks about it, but the question remains; do you squish it up against guitar, or "lay it" on top? I've tried both and I'm not resolved one way or the other as of yet, so stay tuned.

    Perhaps I should wait to check this one off until I'm an expert guitar player with a substantive repertoir. Perhaps I should wait until I can play "Freebird," because it's what hoards of drunk people yell out at concerts regardless of the act. Or at the very least until Michelle and I perform our Beatles medley at my birthday celebration, where people can applaud my newfound talent.

Playing (and squishing)

    But the task wasn't to master the guitar, or to be a full fledged rock star, but to learn to play the guitar and that, I am. I am learning. I am struggling, I am strumming, I am sliding, I am picking, and I am getting irritated that I have to keep my nails super short and that my fingertips are getting callused. I am also having the time of my life, and not just because after the guitar lessons, Michelle and I play Beatles Rockband, where I get to be the star and she struggles. But because music has the ability to make everything beautiful and meaningful.

                                 

Things I'm not losing in the fire

       So, in conclusion, I'm not a rock star as of yet. I get frustrated with my guitar from time to time. But that's more about me than my guitar. Because I get frustrated about anything and everything I can't do perfectly right away. The cool thing is that there's now one more thing I'd grab in case my house is set on fire, aside from my new iPad. And that is my beautiful Taylor GS Mini. That's right, I got the smaller one. And it doesn't look silly at all. Neither does my Beatles guitar strap or my Beatles guitar picks. Did I perhaps overdo it? Me think not.

Michelle channeling John Lennon for Beatles Rockband

    Thank you James for providing the push I desperately needed to take this on, and for being supportive the minute I decided to actually do it. Thank you Michelle for giving me immeasurable joy and boundless happiness. Because that's how I feel when we sing and play together and even when I practice alone. And yes, learning to play the guitar has completed my life. No big deal.

Number 24: James Bond Marathon

   My friend Dory suggested this and it sounded ludicrous at first. It was either the Bond marathon or eat 24 Big Macs in 24 hours, or something I really don't want to repeat. I discarded the idea quickly but the more I thought about it, the more I realized what a Bond fan I am, and how great it would be to revisit all the films...in a row...staying up late...having good snacks and beverages...with friends coming over for a Bond film or two...genius, really. So kudos to Dory and his creative mind. 

 

 Dory played himself in Finding Nemo

   Dory has been living in China for as long as I've known him, so I haven't seen him much, but when I do it's always a good time as he has an uncanny ability to get under my skin. He's quickly gotten to know me AND learned what buttons to push. Kudos again, I suppose. He's also a good friend to have if you like really cool, modern, architectural-type shoes as he works for United Nude. 

   I thought of inviting my brother Ulrik since he introduced me to Bond films and told me which James Bond I had to prefer (Sean Connery,) but since he is in Sweden, he couldn't make it. And by the way, Ulrik will from now on be referred to as "he who must not be named" since he's having some sort of issue being mentioned in the blog. I guess it's not exactly increasing his coolness factor. 

   So I went about setting up the marathon. I was trying to work out how to get all the Bond movies, since you can't rent that many movies at Blockbuster, but it turns out I have two friends who love Bond enough to own the entire collection, Brian Studler of Number: 7 Go to Prom & Robert Scott Wildes, a talented director friend from the AFI, whose latest short film, Thule, is bound to be well-received at film festivals this season. And not just because it features a voice-over by yours truly. Yep, nothing makes you feel like you're pushing forty more than being cast as Mrs. Roberts, a woman with a son in the air force.  

   The game plan itself was easy. Friday night until Sunday night with short sleep breaks. Food and snacks and a somewhat cohesive schedule. I made Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, my famous pumpkin pecan muffins, almond torte and had both healthy snacks and candy.

Dory without hair and make up

    Dory, who just moved to New York but still didn't fly in for the marathon (lame,) checked in the day before with the following encouraging email; "Kind of weak that you are taking sleep breaks and not going full-on till the break of dawn..." I would expect nothing less. 

    First up; Dinner with Sean Connery and "Dr. No," followed by "From Russia with Love," "Goldfinger" and "Thunderball. " Goldfinger of course features a classic dialogue exchange; "Do you expect me to talk?" says Bond. "No I expect you to die, Mr. Bond," replies Auric Goldfinger. Because there were only girls Friday night, the conversation tended to center around Sean Connery's back hair and the decorating in the villains' lairs, as opposed to car chases and killings. We also came up with the idea of doing a medley of all James Bond songs complete with Liza Minelli voices and jazz hands, but got stuck after a few. 

    We noticed the costume department's tendency to put Sean Connery in mini-shorts and then there was the homo-erotic scene in "Thunderball," when he gets stuck in the spine stretcher machine and is jerked back and forth quite violently. After four films it was time for a a bed time break, although some of us fell asleep on the couch, (Karen Forman) while others stayed alert until the bitter end (Elena and I.) 

   Saturday morning...hard to get out of bed but "You Only Live Twice" was waiting for me, and it's a pretty good movie. Ernst Stavro Blofeld is back for the third time, as is his furry white friend and his unhealthy obsession with gold bullion. Bond, in an attempt to pass as a Japanese man, has his chest shaved and puts on a caesar type wig...and voila...looks nothing like a Japanese man. Best line of the movie; "For a European, you are exceptionally well cultivated."

   Waffles with Zoe and Mr. George Lazenby for "On Her Majesty's Secret Service." This was a film I hadn't seen, and to my surprise I actually liked it. It's weird, quirky and un-Bond like and has the first and last romantic montage in the Bond series; James and Contessa Teresa di Vincenzo horseback riding, kissing at the beach, lunching, laughing. Strange. 

    Then they get married. Which of course doesn't last long, as she is killed a few minutes later, making it one of two Bond films that made me cry. And George Lazenby is no slouch as James Bond. Fit and handsome with a softer side. Not bad at all. This film also had one of the best lines of the whole series; "What she needs is a man to dominate her," says the Contessa's father to Bond in an attempt to get them together. 

    Happy to be back with Sean Connery for "Diamonds are Forever" which is cool because it takes place in Vegas.  Then FINALLY...

    "Live and Let Die." Happiness for many reasons; the arrival of Roger Moore who was always my favorite back in the day, the title song is sung by my favorite Beatle and his Wings, and if that wasn't enough, the opening scene with the funeral in New Orleans is awesome. Then there's voodoo and tarot with Solitaire, played by Jane Seymour. As much as I've come to appreciate Sean Connery's portrayal of James Bond, Roger Moore's delightfully fun, charming and British portrayal was warmly welcomed after a lot of ass-slapping and brute arrogance by Sean Connery. 

    I thought I would tire of watching these films fairly quickly but next was "The Man with the Golden Gun" which has my favorite villain, Fernando Scaramanga, and his little friend Nick Nack. Also, not one, but two Swedish Bond girls, Britt Ekland and Maud Adams. Followed by "The Spy who Loved Me," "Moonraker," "For Your Eyes Only," "Octopussy," featuring Maud Adams again, and finally "A View to a Kill" before I passed out. 

    Not a big fan of Timothy Dalton but I did wake up early and watched "The Living Daylights" with the Norwegian group A-ha singing the title song. Worst Bond song ever. And waffles with Ronny for "License to Kill" which featured a skinny, young Benicio Del Toro as a henchman. And that's all I can say about that. Not very exciting at all.

    Happy to see Mr. Pierce Brosnan, but it seemed the quality of the ladies went down a bit, as did the qualities of the films in general. There wasn't a single blonde Bond girl in any of the Pierce Brosnan films, all brunettes and many of them extremely intelligent (boring.) With the lesser quality also came lesser cup sizes...the only thing added was a lot of fabric...boy, were these girls covered up compared to the earlier films. And their names just weren't as fun, with the exception of Christmas Jones, of course. 

      

                                        Honey Ryder, Mary Goodnight and Pussy Galore...

    I get it, in the nineties everything got politically correct and I suppose that spread to the James Bond films. So, no more Plenty O'Toole or Holly Goodhead. No more women showing up in Bond's hotel room wearing see through negliges, or just waiting for him naked in his bed. Which is unfortunate because James Bond is supposed to be a womanizing, chauvinistic bad ass where women fight over him and coo, "Oh, James, " ready to give up their family, livelihood and their own lives after just a kiss.

    But not in the Pierce Brosnan movies. "GoldenEye" features perhaps the drabbest Bond girl of all time, and I'm embarrassed to say she is Swedish...Izabella Scorupco is usually hot but they've managed to remove all that in this film. Thank god for Famke Janssen's Xenia Onatopp, who gets off by getting the crap kicked out of her, making it a way more interesting movie.  

    Then "Tomorrow Never Dies," The World is Not Enough," and "Die Another Day." Not exactly fantastic plots, so they all tended to bleed together with a few great racks in sight; Teri Hatcher, Denise Richards and Halle Berry.

   "Casino Royale" and "Quantum of Solace" rounded out the marathon. And what a sweet way to end. With Daniel Craig. When I originally saw "Quantum of Solace" I was really disappointed, but Studler, who dropped by Sunday, made a good point. If you watch them as a pair, it makes for one long, great movie. And that it was. "Casino Royale" has a fantastically evil and hot Danish actor as its villain, and yes, when Vesper died, I cried for the second time. 

   Off to bed FINALLY...shaken and stirred... I dreamt about Jaws, Oddjob, Nick Nack, Felix Leiter, Aston Martins, my Z3, Q and his gadgets, hot blondes and a tuxedo clad Daniel Craig getting into the shower with me and sucking my fingers. Not a bad way to end this adventure. 

    Thank you, Dory for the suggestion. It was great/interesting/exhausting. Thanks to my friends who stopped by for one or two or three movies; Sarah, Karen, Elena, Zoe, Keri, Ron, Studler, Kevin and Wei-ning. 

    

Number 23: Do Stand-up Comedy

   Funny things happen to me fairly often, and I can be quick and snappy when challenged to a banter-off with a cute boy. I'm also pretty decent at sketch comedy... But to take that and put it into some sort of structured act is harder than it seems. So, this was one of those "I can make a total ass out of myself here" challenges. And those challenges are the most interesting ones, I've found. The ones where I have to expand who I know myself to be, and as a result, end up learning the most about myself. 

 Charlotte and Francine, two retired whores

   My friend Karen Forman, my side-kick in the popular "Two retired whores applying for a business loan at Wells Fargo" sketch graciously invited me to do my act at The Jive Joint, which is a crazy mix of creative performances by some strangely talented people, hosted by Karen's Street Theatre Troupe Suddenly Dapper. The Jive Joint has a new home, in a huge and cool loft space downtown, in a bit of a dubious area. I say dubious because my iPhone told me to "Use Caution" when I got walking directions from where I had parked.

   As preparation for this challenge, I tried telling some jokes around town, but I quickly discovered I'm terrible at that. It's not that I can't remember the punch line, it's that when I get to it, I start to laugh because it's so funny. And so there I am, laughing really hard, tears streaming down my face...and I just can't get it out. Of course, when I finally get the punch line out, it's not funny at all, because at this point, the person I'm telling the joke to has watched me almost pee my pants for minutes, which insinuates that it's the funniest joke in the world. 

   Next, I went into my "funny" diary. I started it when I was in India with Radha. Every once in a while I would say something that would make Radha laugh uncontrollably, or we'd have a weirdly funny dialogue and she would insist on my writing it down. God bless her for making me do that because I've kept doing it with her and other friends, and I've already used funny lines in scripts I've written. Here's one of my favorites, from a recent chat:

"He’s fat and he’s got hair everywhere. But I kind of like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah…I’ve always had this fantasy of being fucked by Harvey Weinstein."

"Please don’t do that while I’m eating."

"What?"

"Talk about fucking Harvey Weinstein."

"Ok, fine. Tell me about your new love interest."

"He's nice but I think he’s too pretty."

"For what?"

"It makes me feel fat and ugly when I’m with someone really pretty."

"I was with someone  fat and ugly and I still felt fat and ugly."

"Was it Harvey Weinstein?"

   Unfortunately, a lot of it is dialogue, but I found one story I could use. Someone had said humiliation is funny so I opted to tell the ultimate humiliation story. I went up after some improv, ukulele playing, hoola hooping and juggling, and grabbed the microphone.

   The story I told was about when I decided to tell a boy I liked him. "Joe Smith" had been "secretly" in love with me for years, so it was one of those safe bets. Or so I thought. I called him up and then it turned bad. I guess since I last checked, he had met someone new and now liked them instead. As I'm listening to him letting me down easy, I decide to text my friend Francesca about the whole thing. A bit of a crude text. A few seconds later, he asks "did you just text me?" Then he proceeded to read the text meant for Francesca, back to me on the phone. The one about him liking some whore now...and me feeling like a loser and wanting to die. 

       

   It turns out people do think humiliation is funny because there were a lot of laughs. I had a couple of other bits I had worked on that also demonstrate my awkwardness in the area of romance and that were equally humiliating, but decided to go straight for my final bit and quit while I was ahead. I had to pause after my initial; "so, I was having anal with my boyfriend the other day," because people were laughing quite loudly. I go on to explain that it's really not a bit...I really just wanted people to know that A. I have a boyfriend, and B. I do anal. And then I get into the nuts and bolts of anal sex, which I won't repeat here. 

   It wasn't fun at all before I went up, in fact, I wanted to throw up, go home and forget about the whole thing. I had only invited a few friends because I honestly didn't know how it would go. Once I was up there talking, it was actually fun and I was happy and relaxed. I don't think it's something I'll do again, but all in all, a solid uncomfortable experience. I suppose what I learned was that I can be funny in a stand-up way after all. But I must say I prefer other ways, simply because the whole anxiety thing beforehand is a pain in the ass. Pun intended. 

   Thanks to Guy for inspiring the second bit, to Radha, Cliff and Karen for letting me rehearse with them, to my sweet friends who showed up and laughed; Cliff (Number 13: Skydive,) John (Number 15: Run a 5K & 19: Pea Soup Andersen's,) James (Number 3: Read 5 Foreign Books,) Zoe (Number 7: Go to Prom) and Andrea (Number 11: Take a Hip Hop Class.) 

   Most of all, thanks to Karen Forman and her lovely and talented crew for letting me soil their Thursday night gig ever so slightly, with a bit of anal.

Number 17: Fire a Gun

  Not long after I had posted my initial blog and list, I got a FB message from Matt Johnson offering to take me to a gun range for some shooting. He said he had guns and was a member at a range, and he was actually one of the first people to check in and offer to do something from the list. Since then, many friends, old and new, have checked in with either an urge to take on a task with me, or a willingness to contribute expertise in some area. So Matt's message was the beginning of the list becoming a community thing, and it was especially cool since I don't see Matt regularly. 

  I've run into Matt a few times in the last few years, in his bicycle garb in Venice or at Whole Foods with his beautiful daughters, but I think the last time we officially hung out was about 15 years ago. I had become friends with Matt and some of his crowd; all really cool, older, handsome guys at the beginning of their successful film careers... We were in my car with a mutual friend, got hit by a drunk driver outside Canter's on Fairfax and spent most of the night at Cedars. Not a great night. 

   Matt is a fellow screenwriter. And when I say "fellow" I don't know if it's that accurate since he's actually had his scripts turned into movies, and I haven't. Yet. 

   I realized how serious the whole gun thing is when we made plans to go and Matt emailed me a list of outfit requirements and rules to follow. I was to wear jeans or long pants and bring a long-sleeved shirt that covered my arms and these were the rules:

1. Never point the firearm at anything you do not wish to destroy.

2. Always treat every firearm like it's loaded.

3. Know your target and what's behind it.

4. Keep your finger off the trigger until the firearm is pointed at the target. 

   Don't get me wrong, I love rules and instructions because it means I get to be "a good girl" when I follow them exactly. And I think I did. We met at LAX Firing Range, Matt was there already when I arrived and the guy at the desk handed me a gun and said "Matt wants you to shoot with this." It was a Sig Sauer Mosquito which I grabbed before heading into the actual range part with my glasses and ear protection. 

    There he was, tall and handsome as usual, perhaps a bit more grey, shooting the coolest gun I've ever seen. It looked like something out of an old Western, big and loud. We caught up a bit, then a quick lesson in gun etiquette, which is not overrated and very important. At first when he repeated the same thing over and over, it annoyed me, but I kept on putting the gun down the wrong way and I could see how that would be a problem from a safety perspective. Like I could shoot myself accidentally. 

 

Sig Sauer Mosquito (.22 long rifle caliber)   

   I started shooting the Mosquito and really liked it, although it took some getting used to "the kick" which, for those of you who aren't in the gun world, is when your hand and arm jerks back uncontrollably from the power of the gun as it goes off. A couple of shots off the target, but then I found my stride and did pretty well if I may say so myself. And for the record, Matt said so too. Numerous times. 

Not bad, eh?

   When it was time to re-load, I asked Matt about this hobby of his, which for a Swedish girl seems radical and perhaps even a bit crazy. He told me about growing up in Missouri and shooting guns with his father and I actually felt respect and admiration for his relationship to guns. He told me that he sometimes shoots on a course with moving targets, using different guns and he was so excited talking about it, that I found myself interested and mesmerized by the idea. Basically, he's someone with an intense passion for shooting as a sport but with a healthy dose of respect for the capability of the guns. 

   And I get it. Like so many of the unusual things I've been doing from the list, this one gave me a "boner" of sorts. I got excited, adrenalin was pumping through my veins and I didn't want to stop. At the same time, there was a calm and peace that came over me. My mind was still and I could only hear my own breathing and the gun going off. I shot a few rounds and felt power and control with each well placed shot. Matt reminded me of the correct grip and helped me re-load, but soon I was doing it all on my own. And I loved it. I didn't want to put the gun down.  

     

Matt's guns: Glock 17, Glock 19 (both 9mm,) and Sig Sauer P226 (.40 caliber)

   After a while, the Mosquito was old news, and I was ready to move on to something else. Something more powerful. Matt's Glock 17, followed by his Glock 19, and then, finally, the fantastic Colt Python Revolver - a 357 magnum from the 70's, my decade, that Matt got from his Dad. I shot it and immediately felt a strange sensation. Matt said "did you feel that in your teeth?" and I laughed, realizing that what I was feeling was my teeth shattering. That's how powerful it was. 

   Next I shot the Sig Sauer P226 which really heavy and almost too powerful for me. Or perhaps it was that my hands had gotten tired from shooting rounds and rounds. 

Two things made in the 70's; me and the Colt   

   My favorite? The big, manly Colt of course. Even loading it is exciting, since you have to put each bullet in separately. And you have to cock it after each shot, which made me feel like I was in a Western. I shot a final round before it was time to go home. I closed my eyes for a second and imagined myself riding alongside the Duke through a dusty old town in the wild wild west, with tumbleweeds rolling across the dirt road. All of a sudden, the distant clinking on a piano stops, and someone bursts out of the saloon, guns drawn, and in a split second, I get my Colt out of the holster, aim and squeeze the trigger confidently. 

    That was soooo awesome! I can't thank you enough, Matt!

Number 16: Bet on a Horse

   My old friend Julian came up with this a few weeks ago when he kicked my ass in bowling. I hadn't seen him in a while, and was disappointed to see he didn't need the side rails anymore since I've been relying on them secretly for so many years. I was telling him about the Forty By Forty project and he said; "this would make a GREAT movie...and I think you should add to bet on a horse...it could be fun." When I explained to him how it works; that if you add something to the list, you might be called upon to do it with me, he said "cool."

    

Younger Julian and Marika

   When I say Julian is an old friend, I don't mean age wise, although he is very mature for his age and I talk to him like I talk to any of my other friends. I've known him since he was a couple of months shy of his second birthday. We've had a lot of good times together; summers "at France" as he used to say, the Chupacabra obsession, our two month stint at the Regency Hotel in NY, tons of bowling, the sad day they took the Kraken game out of the arcade, and many sweet kisses. 

   I worked for his Mom Lisa for five years...had some of the best and most fun times of my life and still love and cherish not just Lisa, Michel and Julian, but the whole clan complete with Nana and Papa, aunts, uncles, the beautiful French in-laws, and the tallest and coolest cousins anyone could ask for. 

     

    When we started bowling together, Julian sat in the back of my car in a toddler car seat and we listened to Justin Timberlake's first solo album. Then, the car seat got replaced with a booster...still JT in the CD player with us singing along, his second album. This last time, he sat up front with me with braces and long rock 'n roll hair, requesting 97.1 (Hip Hop and R'nB) on the radio. 

   I emailed him and officially invited him to go to Hollywood Park with me for Number 60: Bet on a Horse after having coordinated with Lisa. It was the last Sunday they were doing races so we just made it. I wore a dress and Julian a polo shirt and khaki shorts. The most handsome date I've had all summer. When we got into the car and Justin Timberlake came on the radio, we both laughed and knew we were about to have a great day.

   In 'n Out was up next. First great idea of the day and it was Julian's. Having run a 5K a few hours earlier, I was famished and itching for some meat and cheese. A couple of double doubles later, we took off for the races. 

 The Hollywood Park equivalent of First Class

As we pulled up to Hollywood Park, Julian said "I hope we're in First Class." I laughed and told him of course we were. We went into the Turf Club and got seated at a nice table overlooking the race track. We ordered drinks and a fudge brownie Sunday and started going through the program. 

 

         

                                         Betting, racing, and winning!

    We didn't have any sort of system for how we selected, we just read the names and if we thought they sounded like winners, we picked them. And we did pretty good. Our picks included Jacob's Tiger, Diplo, Alley Handro, Big Burly Boy and Wolfgang, but the pick of the day turned out to be Luv Dragon. We bet $10 and got $39 back!

   In between the races, we talked about Julian's assigned summer reading, our favorite scenes from Indespicable Me, sampling in rap songs (!) and we also filled each other in on our various summer activities; Forty by Forty list stuff for me, video game and film camp for Julian. Julian is smart, interesting, attentive, kind and really funny to be with so there wasn't a dull moment. And I'm not just saying that because he tells me I look 25 every time I see him. 

   All in all, a day of fun with a sweet old friend.  Thanks Julian, for a great day at the races, and especially for the crazy rap song on the way home!