Forty By Forty

Number 37: Record a Pop Song

     My sweet and fantastic guitar teacher Michelle was over at my house, looking over the Forty By Forty board the other week and exclaimed, "I have a recording studio at my house...come over and record a pop song!" I accepted her invitation right away, as this one was one I had really hoped to get to, but wasn't sure how to execute.

La la la...la la la...the lovely Linda

   To make it even more fun, my friend Linda Santiago flew in from Sweden and was just as excited as I was to get in the studio, so we headed over to Michelle's on the eve of my 40th birthday. We hadn't decided on a song but were mulling over some Swedish bands like Abba, Roxette and The Cardigans, in the car on the way over.

    Michelle lives with her lovely husband in Highland Park, an area of LA I've never been to before, but that I'd be glad to visit again, should I get asked back. It's a sweet neighborhood and Michelle and Chad's house is DOPE. Beautifully remodeled and decorated in that Rock 'n Roll way that shows you people with style live here, but they don't try to impress anyone. Michelle made tea and then we went into the studio which has some incredibly beautiful guitars on the wall, a grand piano, a professional microphone, some equipment with dials, and Michelle's computer. 

Channeling Swedish royalty...

    After going through a few ABBA songs, I felt really strongly that the song I should sing should be "Thank you for the Music." I love the song, and one of the reasons is, Agneta, who sings it, has one of the thickest Swedish accents in history, and it just makes it such a funny song to me. I also felt that since Michelle has given me the gift of music in the most extraordinary way this year, it would be the perfect song to dedicate to her. 

    As we started to record, I realized it wouldn't be as easy as just singing a song into a microphone. First of all, it was pretty late and I was tired so my voice wasn't as smooth as I would have liked. Also, "Thank you for the Music" is just on the cusp of what I actually can sing, note wise, so it was important to open my throat, which I haven't really practiced a lot, having not seen Calvin Remsberg (Number 9: Take an Opera Lesson) in a while. 

    I started singing and I really wanted to duplicate the Swedish accent, so I tried my best to, and I think it came through quite well. It made Michelle, Linda (who was behind the camera, before passing out on the couch from jetlag) and I giggle. We did a few takes of the song all the way through, but there were a couple of high parts I couldn't seem to get to, so we decided to record those parts separately. I still couldn't hit the high notes, so Michelle had me do some vocal exercises, in the midst of which I kind of snapped at her. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was sarcastic and something way too harsh to say to my sweet music teacher Michelle, who was kindly spending her night recording with me, trying to make me sound good.

Michelle...ma belle...enhancing my vocals    

      I of course apologized, which lead to one of the more interesting conversations I've had in a long time. There's a thing I do sometimes, more so when I've just come back from Sweden, and it's using a tough jargon when joking around or even just talking. And it hurts people's feelings. It's like sarcasm times a thousand. Not to blame my family, because I love them so much and we are so very close, but we tend to relate to each other in a very harsh jargon, and it's been known to be a bit difficult for the people around us, like spouses and friends.

      I've gotten quite good at catching myself doing it, and can usually stop right before it comes out, but having spent a fair amount of time with my brothers in Sweden last week, it just came out. No filter available. I was mortified.

        What's great about Michelle is, she's open, compassionate, and gracious beyond belief. A true Yogi. We also have an amazing friendship, even though we haven't known each other long. Our music lessons are filled with deep, interesting conversations about life, love and music and I don't know a lot of people who say "I love you" to their music teacher on a regular basis, but I do. So, given all that, we worked it out in a couple of minutes, and were back in harmony, wrapping up the recording session on a high note. Pun intended. 

    So, without further ado, please click below for Abba's "Thank you for the Music" sung by yours truly, and dedicated to Michelle, who's love of music and generosity of spirit inspires me so.  

Thank You For the Music

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 40: Celebrate my 40th Birthday with the Friends who Made it all Possible

    I decided that the best way to celebrate my birthday and the fulfillment of the most extraordinary and rewarding thing I've taken on - Forty By Forty - would be to spend it with the friends who made it all possible. It was a way to make it more about the project and my "partners in crime" and less about getting old.  So, invitations were sent out to those who participated in the Forty By Forty project, by either adding something to my list, or doing one of the tasks with me. 

    On the back of the invitations, I had circled the challenge(s) that particular friend helped with. This one was Cyndi's, one of my busier Forty By Forty friends.

    Fantastic friends Bob and Hil graciously offered their home as the place to party, but as their street was being dug up the week of the party, there was a concern about parking, and the party moved to Ronny's. It made total sense, since Ronny was my first cohort in the Forty By Forty, having joined me for Number 1: See Sir Paul McCartney in Concert. Diane contributed vodka, champagne, and a case of Hungarian "Marika" wine, Cyndi sponsored the wait staff, Ronny got decorations and much more...Linda and I had rolled meatballs all week, and I also made glögg, which is a Swedish mulled wine served with raisins and almonds. 

    I had the most extraordinary day with calls, texts, emails, cards & flowers, while running around with Andrew (Number 30: See Carmen at the Met) getting everything handled for the party. Setting up for the party with H & R (Andrew & Ronny,) was hilarious, and a worthwhile birthday experience in itself. But there was more before I could relax and celebrate; Andrew and I headed over to Jumbo's for Number 39: Perform at Jumbo's, while Ronny sacrificed himself and stayed behind to get the party started. 

     

     Saying the party was great would be an understatement. My oldest friends came early, which made me happy and relaxed...Cyndi & Temple, Scott & Maya, Di & Roger, Toni, etc. There was yummy food, good music, delicious drinks and cool people, so I suppose just like any other awesome party, except for the fact that people who didn't know each other, kept on recognizing each other from the blog. All night I heard things like "Oh, I read the blog about you, you went with Marika to...." Kind of cool. 

     
      Ronny was the best host in the world, he mixed drinks and read fortunes by the bar, making sure people were happy, had food and drinks, and felt at home. Andrew took photos until he got too intoxicated by various things, and I finally sobered up from Jumbo's, so that I could get drunk once again. 

     But not until after my special performance. Michelle and I had practiced a Beatles medley for the party and although I was quite nervous, I was excited to perform it. "Norweigan Wood," "She Said, She Said," "Love Me Do" and "With a Little Help from my Friends." All songs that make me unbelievably happy and beaming from ear to ear. So Michelle and I got up, I made a quick speech, and off we went.

    It was hard. First of all, it's hard to play guitar and sing at the same time, especially this early in my guitar learning. Second, it's hard playing guitar and singing in a tight Gucci leather dress. (And yes, I smushed for this one.) Third, playing guitar is intimate, and I felt quite vulnerable playing in front of people, even though it was friends...I had to look down at my guitar or the floor for the most part, or at Michelle, who always calms me down. 

     The other accomplishment about the guitar playing was that sweet Guy managed to stay on the couch for the whole thing...I'm sure he'll be upset that I'm outing him about this, but he's got a thing about people busting out their guitars at parties. Like a legitimate physical sensation complete with warmth/panic/anxiety/embarrassment. And it's real. Guy usually leaves the party when it gets to the warm and fuzzy guitar point. But not this time, which made me feel quite special, although he did look a bit clammy afterwords, as he complimented me on my performance.    

    

      The cake, made by my dear friend Cheryl from Baked it Myself, was beyond delicious. It was a more sophisticated, heavenly spin on my favorite Swedish-style berry cake, and was stuffed with the freshest and sweetest of berries with mascarpone to die for. Definite highlight.

     Another highlight of the evening included Cliff inventing a solution for the problem pole dancers have with picking up dollar bills at the end of their dance. (See Number 39: Perform at Jumbo's Clown Room) Named "Strip Vac," Cliff's invention is a vacuum hose that is attached to the pole so you just pull it out and suck up the cash. Which means Mr. Olin can check something off his Forty By Forty list, as one of his challenges reads; "Invent something. Like muscle beer."

 

       Eventually, we all ended up on the back patio with a fire burning and mellow music playing. We sat around and talked and laughed, snuggled up on the couches under warm blankets. At some point, Bianca asked me to dance and I politely accepted. Just the two of us, slow dancing for what seemed like an eternity. The gentlemen seemed quite mesmerized. As was I...it was the first time all day that I was just still, quiet and peaceful, snuggled up to Ms. Sia, and it was a lovely thing at the end of an eventful and exciting birthday. 

     As the party started to wrap up, I picked up my guitar again. I wanted to play something sweet and mellow to complete the evening. For those of you who aren't U2 fans, there is a song called "40" from their 1983 album "War," that they ended their concerts with in the eighties. They would sing it, then peel off the stage, first Bono, then Adam Clayton, then The Edge and finally Larry, while the song was still going. The audience would keep singing the chorus for minutes, but the band never came back on stage. It's how you knew it was over. Simple and beautiful, the lyrics are a modification of Psalm 40 from the Bible. 

    So at the end of an amazing night, it seemed fitting that I should play myself out with "40." There were just a few people left at the party when I started strumming. With "40," I played myself out of the most magnificent year of my life, out of a beautiful birthday, out of a fantastic celebration with people I love, and out of that tiny bit of melancholy that you feel when something epic has ended.

       Leading up to my birthday, a lot of people said "life begins at forty" as a way to make me feel alright about turning the big 4-0. The truth is, I feel more than alright about turning 40. I found myself expanding and growing in ways I didn't think were possible this year; physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually...and I don't just like who I am today. I love who I am today. 

      I've managed to sufficiently shake up who I am, and laid to rest who I've known myself to be for the first 39 years of my life, so in a way, my life up until this point is complete. Not over, but complete. I've done many extraordinary things, this year and before. I've also managed to get through some difficult times, with as much grace and ease as I've been able to muster up. I recently read something that I found true and appropriate for me and my journey. "Life Begins at the End of Your Comfort Zone." It certainly did for me. Forty times. 

     My heart is full of love and appreciation for the amazing friends who shared the Forty By Forty adventure with me, by adding things to the list or by participating in one or more of the adventures. I'm a different human being today because of you. My life will never be the same and you will always have a part in that. 

       Thank you Andrea Anders, Ashley Aurell-Killian, Andrew Barrett, Brian Studler, Calvin Remsberg, Cliff Olin, Christi Christensen, Cyndi Finkle, Debbie Steingesser, Dana Schwartz, Diane Merrick, Dory Benami, Elena Zaretsky, Ellie Schwimmer, Elise Blecher, Guy Burnet, Hailey Pahoa, Heather Tyson, Ingrid Lundin, James Webber, Jason Frahm, Javier Gonzalez-Rubio, Jen Kotowski, John Kazlauskas, Judy Downes, Julian Stern, Justin Fortune, Karen Forman, Kathy Hodgkiss, Keri Safran, Keri & Hermas Lassalle, Laura Tremaine, Lily Liliana, Linda Santiago, Lorne Hiltser, Luke McFarlane, Matt Johnson, Matthew Heller, Matthew Rhys, Mark Lucaj, Maya Einziger, Michael Hundgen, Michelle Payne, Mosie Hackett, Mysti Friedman, Nate Crocker, Rachel Calvert, Radha Mitchell, Robert Scott Wildes, Ron Safran, Pia Bellander, Sara Sugarman, Todd Stolarski, Toni Pickett, Ulf Cahn, Valentin Vignet, Wei-ning Yu, West McDowell & Zoe Wittock.

 

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 22: Bhakti Fest

   The word bhakti means "loving devotion to a deity, leading to salvation and Nirvana" and Bhakti Fest is a four day celebration of chanting, meditation, yoga and inspiring talks that takes place on 450 acres in JoshuaTree, where people get blissed out. Or, as I would like to now refer to it: Hippie Fest. 

   Driving to Joshua Tree for Bhakti Fest, I was a little tired and uninspired. By the Forty by Forty project actually. I'm past the half-way point and I'm losing steam fast. After returning from Peru I've felt a bit reclusive and like I really don't want or need to go on any new adventures right now. So, this was something that I was just going to have to get myself through and then, I told myself, I would be allowed a break for a few weeks.

   

   So I arrived huffing and puffing a bit...perhaps even irritable. Definitely not in the mood to be happy and have a good time. As I walked through the "village" that had been built up with tented areas for yoga, music stages, massage tents, booths where incense, buddhas, clothes, jewelry and art was sold, food stands and coffee carts, I looked around and saw a mix of hippie yogis, hip yogis and trippy yogis. I couldn't help but smile. A bit. 

   I walked to the main stage area and saw my friend and excellent yoga teacher Richard Wegman doing his morning sun salutations, while Joey Lugassy was playing beautiful music. Big grin. 

Keri, me and Dana

   Then the flood gates of happiness opened. I ran into friends upon friends upon friends. I realized that I had forgotten how many sweet and fantastic people I know in the yoga/kirtan/meditation community, and how much I'd missed them spending time in school on the east side for the last two years. 

    
              Me, the beautiful Keri and our rockrings (Swedish for hoola-hoop)

   It didn't take long to get into it. After a walk with Dana and a bit of hoola-hooping with Keri, who has the fantastic Y Catalogue with her even more fantastic husband, Hermas, I got ready for my first class, Bollywood with Hemalaaya Behl.

   I'm realizing now that most of this blog will be about my friends, how beautiful they are and how sweet it is to spend time with them, so if that gets boring and repetitive, I apologize in advance. Hemalayaa is not just a friend from my days in Ojai and beyond, but a goddess, whose Bollywood classes are as entertaining as they are a full body workout. And I wasn't surprised to see our mutual Ojai friend Tony Khalife accompanying her on guitar, because he is a wild spirit just like Hema, and the music he plays is both soulful and inspires movement. 

   The class was crazy and fun and of course after dancing around like an Indian princess, I was starving and went over to the food area to be severly disappointed. I'm sorry but vegan, vegetarian and/or raw food isn't delicious for more than 5 minutes. For me, it's like a fun novelty item. "Isn't it fun that they can make 'pizza' with nothing that you make pizza with?" But when you actually have to rely on that to get your nourishment, it's not fun or exciting.  

   And no matter how many vendors I asked (irritated,) there was really no animal protein to be found. Lucky for me, there was kichiri which will always fill the tummy...and the chai tea was as good as in India, although by Saturday afternoon the girl who worked that booth had taken her shirt off which made the line super long.  

   

Saul and alumni; me, Debbie, Lilly & Kathy

   Next up, a reunion in Saul David Raye's class. One can always count on Saul to bring the bhakti and his class on Saturday was no exception. In fact, I'd put it in the Top 3 of all time. Chills up and down my spine, a soulful practice with lots and lots of spontaneous dancing. There were quite a few of us from his teacher training in 2008,  and we all practiced together while some incredibly talented musicians played, including Joey Lugassy, Steve Gold, Frank Fitzpatrick, Matthew Hufschmidt, David Watts and more. 

   Then, time for one of the highlights of the weekend, Krishna Das on the main stage. Seeing Krishna Das is like being at a rock concert. You know all the songs, you love the stories and you don't want the night to ever end. There's singing, chanting, dancing...people are so happy and blissful and freed up. It felt like Woodstock. Not that I have any personal experience of Woodstock...but I do think it probably smelled the same way...

   After a great night's sleep in pitch black and complete silence in the Mustang Cabin at Rattler Ranch, a bit away from the village, I got up excited for yoga with Shiva Rea. Well, after Keri's husband Hermas removed the black widow spider from under my mattress, I was excited.

   I've never taken a class with Shiva before, which is strange considering I've been practicing yoga at Exhale in Venice for so many years. When I showed up, it turned out it was Trance Dance and not a yoga class. What? That's just ridiculous. That's not what I was prepared for and for those of you who know me...well you know I can't really shift gears like that. Not a fan of the quick changes. I started to roll up my mat (i.e. take my marbles and go home) when Lilly grabbed me and said, "let's stay...might be fun." I decided to pretend like I am an easy-going person but quietly decided to give it just ten minutes. In the first five minutes I realized Shiva Rea is nuts. Really nuts. 

  

    Then I slowly realized it's the good kind of nuts. The kind of nuts that frees you up and makes you not have a care in the world. And so perhaps it would be ok if just this once...I went a little nuts along with everyone else? So, with my eyes closed I danced around like a nut, feeling happy and goddess-like. And needless to say, not needing to roll up my mat and hit the road. And after, a calm and peace and quiet came over me. My mind was still. That rarely happens. 

Christi showing off some new moves...

   Off to eat again and FINALLY I ran into the sweet and delightful Christi Christensen, dancer, yoga teacher, friend, but most of all, goddess of Exhale in Venice. When she is in one of her happy infectious moods, as she was, it's like the sun has come out for the first time and you just want to bask in its glory. I did. 

   Then I got a henna tattoo from Debra. I don't know what else to say about it and I won't show a photo here...but it was one of those things where I was inspired in the moment and went for it. Definitely out of left field even if it will come off in a few weeks. 

   The second and final highlight of the weekend came Sunday afternoon when my friend Sean Johnson and his Wild Lotus Band played on the main stage. Sean, Gwendolyn and Alvin are from New Orleans and bring a way cool sound to the average kirtan music, that makes it impossible to keep your heart in check. Gwendolyn is cool and calm but with a power to her drumming that forces your feet to dance and Alvin's guitar riffs sends chills down your spine.

    Then there is Sean, who has the voice of an angel. Not much else to say about that, other then that I had the pleasure and privilege to sing with him a couple of years ago sans the Wild Lotus Band, for a kirtan at Exhale with Saul. It was one of the most blissful experiences of my life to get to share his music in that way. 

      

                         Christi still beaming, and the curly haired wonders, Gigi and Tony.

    Needless to say, we were all there dancing, beaming, singing, clapping and even hollering. Debbie Steingesser, who has become a fantastic yoga teacher since our teacher training, mixing yoga with another of her passions, African dance, dragged me up on stage so that we could truly celebrate with Sean, Gwendolyn & Alvin close up. We danced and danced until we cried from joy. Another bhakti moment with Debbie, and we've had many together, since we met in Ojai at the Yoga Crib a few years ago. For me, it doesn't get any better than that, so after we all settled down, I decided that it was time to head back to LA, leaving on the highest of notes, inspired by life, re-engaged in the Forty by Forty project, but most importantly, with a full heart. 

   Namaste Hema, Saul & Shiva for the beautiful classes, to my goddess friends Debbie, Dana, Christi, Lilly, Kathy & Keri for bringing inspiration back into my heart and to Sean, Gwendolyn & Alvin for playing me out...

Number 20: Peru 1 - Machu Pichu

 

 I didn't think I'd actually get to this one...but with a week off and a strong desire for an adventure, I made the arrangements. This was one of the many things Cliff Olin, of Number 13: Skydive fame, put on the list, along with its "sister task," Number 21: Peru 2 - Ayuhasca Ceremony. After I told him I was going, I got some typical Cliff emails... "I'm so mad at you/filled with admiration for you," said one. Another simply, "you stole my dream."

   First of all, the trip would not have been possible without my friend and American mother Diane Merrick, who I've known for 18 years and worked for off and on for just as long. Diane has a clothing store on Beverly at Martel, and not only have I learned everything I know about life in LA from her, she is the reason why I'm such a great and resourceful human being in general. My brain is still full of information she's given me over the years; the best places to shop, eat, spa, etc. And most of all, how to be charming, gracious and wrap a gift beautifully. She's been kind and generous with me always... especially the time she "fired" Faye Dunaway as a customer because Faye made my cry. 

  I've worked with Diane for the summer, taking a much needed break from my computer, and we've had more fun than ever. Reminiscing about the good old days; laughing, dancing to Pandora's 70's hits and lunch from El Coyote. So, she not only funded the trip, but also bought me a brand new duffel bag with wheels, and of course, the camera I brought was an AFI graduation gift from her. When it turned out that the week I was planning on going to Peru was the week she was scheduled to be out as well, she told me to go anyway, and tucked a stack of dollar bills for tips into my purse.

  Before taking off, I poked around a map of South America to learn some new capitals and found Bolivia (Sucre & La Paz,) Ecuador (Quito,) Brazil (Brasilia,) and Chile (Santiago.) I also did my usual "new country research" and found out that Peru was home to one of the oldest civilizations in the world, the Norte Chico Civilization, as well as the Inca Empire. Peru achieved independence from the Spanish Empire in 1821 and today it's a democratic republic with a population of about 29 million people. It has a very varied geography with the plains of the Pacific Coast, tropical forests and the Andes mountains.

  Peru has a poverty level of 34% and its main economic activities are agriculture, fishing, mining and manufacturing of textiles among other things. The main language is Spanish although many Peruvians speak Quechua or other native languages. 

 
   I arrived in Cusco, checked in to my hotel and after a quick nap, I walked over to the beautiful town square with an old church, shops and restaurants. I quickly decided two things as I sat down to get something to eat overlooking the square: 1. that I would travel as a Swede as soon as I figured out how to say Sweden in Spanish, and 2. that I would stop using the F-word because when you are in a beautiful place like Cusco, there's nothing more unattractive than hearing American tourists use the F-word.

   Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm completely obsessed with trains as a means of travel. Love them. When I was younger and it was time for Ulrik and I to visit our Dad and grandparents in Helsingborg (where we were born,) we would take the train there from Stockholm. We got to spend 6 or 7 hours sans parents, which meant buying candy in the restaurant car, running on the platform at the stations, and standing where the cars are connected as the train moved, which was loud, scary and awesome. Needless to say, when one of the options to get to Machu Pichu from Cusco was by train, I jumped at the chance.

    I got on at the train station in Cusco, and sat next to Doug Ramsey of Santa Rosa, who provided entertainment beyond my wildest dreams for the next few hours. He also enabled me to finally say I was Swedish. No more Estados Unidos para mi. Suecia all the way! We spent four hours riding the through some of the most beautiful terrain I've ever seen and were served food for little people - a mini trout sandwich and a mini quiche - by some very well dressed and professional conductors. 

   The music streaming from the speakers was...yes, you guessed it...a variety of popular songs played instrumentally by Peruvian pan flutes. And if you think they can't turn ANY SONG into a Peruvian pan flute song, you are wrong. The pan pipers are like the Kenny G. of Peru, if the song exists, they just "pan it up" as Doug exclaimed. The entire Beatles catalogue, obviously "El Condor Pasa," and last but not least, "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)" by ABBA. When I reassured Doug that my iPod would be safe in the outer pocket of my back pack simply because I would hear the music stop if it got stolen, he told me all they'd have to do is stick my headset into a pan pipe and I'd never notice the difference...

   We soon discovered that the Perurail announcements have been directly translated from Spanish with not much concern for whether the final result makes sense or not, and this became another source of entertainment. They let us know that they would be "using the ingenous system of zig-zagging up the mountain," to get us to Aguas Calientes - where Machu Pichu is located. They also pleaded with us, "for the safety of the children, please refrain from throwing things out the window." And finally, as the train approached the station, there was the not so modest, "for us it was very gratisfying to be part of this unforgettable experience."

  Doug stayed in town to head up early the following morning, so I took off to hike up to Machu Pichu with my iPod. I had been told it would be about an hour and a half from Aguas Calientes to the top and that sounded ok. I started happy and cheerful - how hard could it be? Answer: HARD. It seemed I had picked the hottest time of the day to hike up. And everytime I passed someone it was another "45 minutes" to the top.

The first person I ran into on the trail was Jesus

   Thank god I walked alone because I would have complained to whomever I walked with. I could bring your attention to the fact that for someone with short legs, the stone steps are way higher and more of a challenge. And that there were times the steps were so high I had to sit on them, then slide my legs up before swinging the rest of my body around to get up. But I won't.

   The music helped. Paul Simon´s "Rhythm of the Saints" seemed appropriate and got me going. I know...it has a Brazilian flavor which is different from Peruvian music, but it got me moving more than pan flutes would have, and that was all that mattered. Then the older stuff. "Kodachrome," "50 Ways to Leave your Lover" although when I was done with it, there were 53. I added "Go to Peru, Lou," "Zip up your pack, Jack," and "Hike up that trail, Gail," and felt quite pleased with myself. 

  I had almost run out of water when I met a Jewish couple on their way down. They refilled my water bottle with theirs. Sweet. They said it was just about 45 minutes to the top. No surprise there. Realized I'd lost my sweater. Great sweater, but at that point I wouldn´t even have gone back for a small child. So hot. Did I mention the steps are really high if you have short legs?

Just a few hundred more steps...

   I heard Radha's voice saying what she usually says when I get impatient. "It might not happen today. It might not happen tomorrow. But it will happen." I realized that yes, eventually I must get there. Machu Pichu is at the top. So all I have to do is walk. Needed something with a bit more bite in the iPod to get me there, so I switched to early (angry) Bowie and early (angry) U2 and stomped on.  

   And there it was. Finally. Of course I was so hot, sweaty, dehydrated and tired that rather than climb around and discover it all, I found a big rock far away from the hoards of tourists and sprawled out in the sun like a lizard. Sun and wind on my face. Just sat there and looked at the greatness. Took photos but mostly just experienced it. Connected to it. Very powerful energy up there. 

   A quick nap. Some meditation. And finally, a very American voice yelling, "can I take your picture?" from somewhere above. I opened my eyes and looked up. Bandana, tattoos, Harley Davidson shirt. It was Kevin Johnson from Oregon. Just built a Nazarene church in Cusco with his pastor and part of his congregation. Don't say you don't meet interesting people while traveling. 

The solar clock 

   After having recovered some energy, I climbed around a bit and saw the temples, houses and other structures which were built around 1400. It's really quite fascinating that Machu Pichu was never found by the Spanish when they conquered the Incas and so it was never plundered. What's more fascinating is that Machu Pichu was known to locals for many years, but it wasn't until Hiram Bingham, an American historian, was lead up there by a local kid, that it was discovered by him and eventually, the rest of the world. And at that time, some Quechuas were living there...in the original Inca structures. Pretty cool.

   As the sun started to set, I decided it was time to head back to Aguas Calientes for the train ride back to Cusco, but not before stopping at the tourist office to get my passport stamped with the special Machu Pichu stamp. Since I had already proved to myself and everyone I met on the way that I could hike up, I opted for the bus on the way down. 

   An unexpected adventure and a favorite among the tasks I have completed so far, I will remember my day at Machu Pichu for the rest of my life. I'm happy and proud that I did it, and that I did it on my own. A big thank you to Cliff for inspiring me to go, to Perurail and Doug for making the journey there so much fun, to my fellow hikers, whose cheering-on helped me reach the top, and to Kevin and everyone I met once I got up there. GRACIAS!

Number 14: Hollywood Bowl Sing-along

  The Soundtrack to Grease was my first album, and I would spend hours singing along to all the songs. It was in 1978 in Stockholm, Sweden, and since I didn't learn English in school until 1979, I just mumbled my way through, making up words that sounded like what they were singing. I also "made out" with John Travolta on the cover, which made it funnier to meet him a few years ago. Unfortunately, he looked nothing like the Danny Zuko whose lips had been pressed against mine so many times, but I still giggled to myself. 

Sara's internship at B&S was way more exciting than mine

  Aaaah, to be Sandy... I got my wish the other night. My date? Sara Sugarman. For those of you who don't know her, she is one of the most vivacious and fun people to be around and we have a lot in common. A Welsh Jew, which is about as rare as a Swedish one, Sara went to the AFI screenwriting program a year ahead of me. She gave me the best advice for how to make it the most valuable experience possible and has proven to be a sweet and loyal friend, always ready to pimp me out. Already an accomplished writer/director, Sara also interned at Brothers & Sisters so she shares my love for John, Studs, Cliff, Molly and everyone else over there. 

  And by the way, she made the best Danny Zuko a girl could ask for. I went for the "bad Sandy" look and wore fake leather pants, a tight top and curled my hair before picking Sara up, who had no idea where we were going. "Is it a strip club?" she nervously texted me as I was on my way. She was beyond excited when I told her we were going to the Hollywood Bowl for the Grease Sing-along. 

  When we got to our seats, Didi Conn, who played Frenchie, was up on stage talking to people who had dressed up for the movie. There were Sandys, Dannys, Frenchies, Rizzos, Beauty School Dropouts and a family who were dressed as the drive-in scene (!) There was a little Danny Zuko on a swing and behind him a hotdog struggling to get into its bun, an ice cream and popcorn, from the snack commercial that runs behind Danny on the big screen when he sings "Alone at a Drive-in Movie." Unbelievable.

  But wait, that's not all. There were also pink goodie bags on every chair. We each got a pom-pom, a comb, a yellow scarf, bubbles and a whistle. We didn't quite understand what to do with them but as the movie started, it got clear that there were be parts in the movie where we were supposed to use these things.      

  The movie started and it was really something. People hissed and booed when The Scorpions drove up with Crater Face at the wheel, shook their pom-poms at the football game and blew bubbles during "Beauty School Dropout." Sara looked in her goodie bag for a condom to break when Kenickie is about to have sex with Rizzo and his breaks, but no such luck. 

Bad girl Cha-Cha DiGregorio from St. Bernadette's

  The best use of the goodie bag came when Crater Face and Danny got ready for the drag race. The yellow scarf was a replica of the one Cha-Cha DiGregorio wore and subsequently took off her neck to start the race. So there were thousands of people swinging their yellow scarves as the race started....

    

  We laughed our asses off, we screamed, clapped, whistled, and sang all our favorite songs...from "Summer Lovin'" to the somewhat pathetic "Hopelessly Devoted to You" to "Greased Lightning," all with lyrics scrolling across the bottom of the screen so we could sing along. I must say, in 1978, I had no idea they sang "the chicks will cream" in that song...and I suppose, even if I had, I wouldn't have understood what it meant, so that was an interesting revelation. We did the "Hand Jive" at the school dance until our hands were sore, we danced, I cried for Sandy, and Sara used her comb throughout the evening. 

  Best of all was to go with someone who is as crazy about singing and dancing as I am, and who isn't afraid to look completely ridiculous. Because, let me tell you, we really did. Especially Sara. Thanks for an ACES evening, SUGE!

Number 11: Take a Hip Hop (and it don't stop) Dance Class

      Yep! You guessed it! Back to The Edge - LA's premier dance studio - for more humiliation. I went with my friend Andrea Anders, who loves to dance as much as I do and who gave me the best early graduation gift EVER: 

Hiphopopotamus & Rhymenocerous 

Flight of the Conchords at the Hollywood Bowl. She did it right too. Drove her flashy car straight into Valet and unpacked a delicious picnic of finger sandwiches, crackers, hummus, olives, wine, beer and chocolate. The show was incredible; Kristen Schaal, Arj Barker, Eugene Mirman and then Bret and Jemaine came out. They sang and danced and talked and bickered until our cheeks were so sore we couldn't talk. A night of hilarity, both the show and the company. 

Andrea with her new co-workers

...not surprising since Andrea is a really good comedic actress. She was great on Joey and The Class but most recently, HYSTERICALLY BRILLIANT on Better Off Ted. And you'll be able to see her soon in Mr. Sunshine on ABC. 

But back to Number 11: Take a Hip Hop Class. We were really excited. I was irritated because class didn't start on time and Andrea said it was because I was nervous. She was right. Then Ben showed up and we got started. It was really fun but hard. And for the warm-up, I had a really hard time keeping a straight face because, let's face it, I'm an itty bitty Jewish Swedish girl and some of the hip hop moves just look so weird when I do them. Like I'm trying to be a black rapper or something. 

Ben was awesome. And sexy. Until he made the first timers raise their hands (us.) He started teaching us this really cool routine and Andrea picked it up pretty quickly. She was good. I was trying to figure it out, like in my head, and that's obviously not "where hip hop lives" so it didn't go so well. But the more I relaxed and just let my body do its thing, the easier it got. And more fun. It was hot and sweaty and hard but really awesome and the music was cool and we really just had the BEST TIME.

And we're going back. Ben teaches Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays so that's when you'll find us there. Thanks for a great class, Ben. And thanks for another great adventure, AA.

Number 9: Take an Opera Lesson

 

Little Cahn Artists

I've always loved to sing. My brother Ulrik and I have been singing together and harmonizing our whole lives, first randomly around the house and later with the synagogue choir. It was the best way to be Jewish, we had to go to temple anyways, but this way we didn't have to sit with our parents. And we actually got paid. Also, because we're both so good at recognizing songs after just hearing the first few beats, we still play "Name that Tune" whenever there's music on. And it's highly competitive.  

 I suppose my love for opera was ignited in my teens. I was in a musical theatre group in Sweden when I was 14 or 15 called Miniteatern. Yes, that means "mini theatre" as in for mini people. Not short people, but young people. We were doing a show that was a compilation of different operas and I was chosen for the solo song "Mein Herr Marquis" from the Opera "Die Fladermaus" by Johann Strauss. I really really loved it and still sing it around the house in its original language. As much as I have ill feelings towards Germans... because of the Holocaust and such...they know how to write a good opera. I saw The Magic Flute in the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris a couple of years ago and it was incredible. And I'm still hoping to get to See Carmen at the Met which is actually playing two weeks before my birthday.

So this was something I added to the list. I wanted to get back in touch with my opera voice and my love for singing, beyond Beatles Rockband, and asked around for suggestions. 

 

"Calvin Remsberg is a larger than life type character," said Luke, the person who referred me to my new voice teacher. Luke is not just a talented actor but an accomplished bicyclist, a lumberjack-shirt-wearing Canadian and an incredible singer. He referred me to two teachers but Calvin really stood out as someone who would be a great addition to the Forty By Forty project when Luke described him.

My first lesson was...larger than life. It started out with some vocal exercises so that Calvin could get a sense of my range. Momomomoms and nununununununs and lalalalalalalalas. And then I sang some songs. "Beauty and the Beast." And then "I Could Have Danced All Night" which I realized I knew in Swedish so the second time around, I sang it in Swedish, (a first for Calvin.) That's when a strange and foreign feeling spread across my body. It was a feeling of youth and happiness and love and it flooded my whole being. So, when we got to "My Funny Valentine" I was more confident and secure. As a result, both my throat and my heart were more open.

Calvin said I have a wide range...I hit a high C which surprised me....he also said I have a good ear. Which makes up for the fact that I can barely read music. Calvin was amazing. He's a very accomplished singer in opera and musicals as well as a great director. All in all, it was such a treat and I can't wait to go back next week. I'm not sure where this is all leading but I think this is one of those things I'd like to stick with for a while. Who knows? Maybe I'll be ready to sing an aria at my Forty By Forty Birthday Party? Until then I'll be momomomom and nunununununun and lalalalalalalala-ing in my car. Because it has a cassette player and that's what Calvin gave me. 'Cause he's old school.