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 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 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 27: Go to Trapeze School

    The last (and only time) Lorne Hiltser and I spent the night together was when he took me to Cedar's Sinai a few months ago. I was in so much pain, I actually thought I might die. He was calm and respectful while undressing me and getting me into the undignified backless gown in the hospital's unflattering light, and stayed with me through the night as I screamed in pain.

   As the morphine kicked in, and it became clear I wasn't going to die, I started to feel better and we managed to have some fun. Egged on by a heavily drugged Marika, Lorne attempted to steal medical supplies and was caught by a nurse who quickly locked up the cabinets. We did manage to get out with some rubber gloves and lube in the end. 

    It turns out that Lorne isn't just a swift undresser and a great prom date (Number 7: Go to Prom) but a trapeze artist who recently worked at the LA County Fair, in the Trapeze Booth. And, yes, I believe that puts him in the "carnie" category. On a beautiful Sunday morning, we headed to Hollywood Aerial Arts for a lesson in Flying Trapeze.

   Even though I've bungee jumped and most recently gone skydiving, I'm really afraid of heights. I'm not comfortable being high up, probably because I can't stop my brain from playing out the "falling scenario" over and over and over.

   There were a couple of quick rules and prep exercises and then I got up, eager to go first because I thought I might get more scared watching other people do it before me. I chalked up my hands, trying to look as nonchalantly cool and calm as possible, then climbed up the ladder.

   The higher I climbed, the more tense I got, so I had to remind myself to breathe once I got to the top. I said it to George (who was up there giving me the send-off) every time; "I'm just going to breathe..." and he smiled. Sometimes Lorne was up there giving me the send-off, although I must say it was harder to trust that he wasn't going to drop me. Most likely on account of his shifty mustache.  

Not wanting to let go...

   The scariest part to me was standing up there, once I was in the air I was completely fine. After a couple of "easy" jumps, just falling on my back, I realized the key to being a good trapeze artist is to listen and follow the instructions. It sounds simple, but of course it isn't. Because everything you do up there is counter intuitive to what your brain wants you to do. Basically, you're having an argument with your brain about what to do next, instead of just hop when Ray yells "hop," and let go when he yells "let go." Letting go is not easy at all, in trapezing or in life.    

In the midst of a perfect back flip

    I decided to give the whole "following the instructions" a shot after a couple of runs of doing my own thing and being only moderately successful. What happens when you listen to Ray, do exactly what he says, when he says to do it, is quite extraordinary. I listened to the cue, hopped, got my legs up, let my arms hang, brought my arms back, swung my legs back and forth, before landing in a back flip. Everything was fluid and easy. My body went where it was supposed to go, while my mind was still. I felt at peace and totally free at the same time. Imagine that. 

Nick, waiting to catch a flying Swede

   I couldn't wait to do it again. So, next up, I did the same thing agin but when I hung upside down, I stretched my arms out and Nick magically caught me. Which was even more AWESOME! I felt like I was in the circus, only without the glitter costume. Nick did wear sparkly suspenders, so it was easy to close my eyes and imagine the brightly colored tent, the smell of elephant poop, little people roaming around in funny costumes, and then...the spot light comes on, and I'm flying though the air in a red sequined number, to loud cheers and wild applause. 

   I could have stayed all day. Really. Flying trapeze is cool and a total adrenaline kick. My hands got a bit sore and callused but I didn't mind because I was deliriously happy and cannot wait to go back. 

   Thank you Lorne for sharing one of your passions with me, and thanks to Ray, Nick and George for keeping me safe. And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in Forty By Forty history, the video! 

 

 

 

 

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 18: Apply to the LAPD

   Ever since I saw Police Academy I've been interested in being a cop. Going through all those tests and challenges just seems like so much fun. I'm highly competitive so any opportunity to win something or get into something, I'm interested in. So I headed down to an orientation to join the LAPD a few weeks ago. There were mostly young Hispanic men and myself. My intention was just to apply...but when the regular and reserve police officers talked about being a police officer, I got really inspired and started to see it as part of my civic duty, as a new American. Another way to participate in society. 

        

                               Reserve officer accessories

   I would have to be an LAPD reserve officer since I am over 35. A reserve officer goes through the same application process and the same training as a regular LAPD officer but only works two shifts a month. They still get a badge, a uniform and a Glock 22 gun. Imagine that!

   Step One: Preliminary Background Application and Job Preview Questionnaire The first thing I had to do was an online test and the bulk of it was questions about drugs and criminal activity. The drug questions were very specific. It listed a bunch of drugs (marijuana, hash, hash oil, steroids, PCP, cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, mushrooms, barbiturates, hallucinogens, vicodin etc.)  and then you had to say whether or not you had tried that drug. If you answered yes, you had to say how many times and how long ago. Some of these questions come back later in your polygraph test so you really have to be honest. I was, and at the end of the test I was nervous as to whether or not I'd be permitted to continue. Another screen came up and I read; "you may proceed to the next step of the application process" and I relaxed. 

   Step Two: Personal Qualifications Essay The essay questions were really great and we had ninety minutes to finish them. There were a few more girls at this "event" which I thought was kind of cool. I was still clearly the oldest. We were to write about:  1) a time that we had made a bad decision and how that had impacted us; 2) a time when we had to lead a group of some sort, and; 3) a time that we helped someone in need. It took some thinking but I came up with some good stories from my past and was ready to write. Unfortunately I had started my training for the Boxing Match that morning and as a result, my hands started shaking and cramping when I started writing so it was a painful experience. Still, I finished with about 40 minutes to spare and got a letter that I had passed and scored an 85 about a week later.    

   With the letter came a huge packet with all kinds of information about what was next. First of all, there was a whole fitness section with a booklet where I was to record my physical activities. So every day I've been listing the type of exercise I've been doing, trying to increase my running in order to get up to what they require. I even shared it with my boxing trainer Mysti and she started to incorporate some of the things they listed into my training sessions with her. 

   I started to fill out the 26 page document they sent, listing every apartment I've lived in, every job I've ever had, names, professions and contact information for everyone in my family and for seven references who had to be within ten years of my age. (Thank you Ellie, Ron, Maya, Cyndi, Rachel, Toni and Francesca for being willing to be interrogated about me.)  I also had to make copies of my social security card, driver's license, citizenship certificate, car insurance...order college transcripts etc. A lot of work.

   Step Three: Background Investigation The day arrived for the background investigation part. I showed up to the Personnel Building downtown in my business attire at 6:30 am, ready for what they said could be a four hour appointment. Once there, I got another questionnaire with 165 questions to answer while they went over my 26 page document. Intense. It was yes or no, but if you answered yes to something, you had to write a brief essay explaining the circumstances; Why? Where? When? I was honest. Deeply honest. Perhaps too honest?

    

Some of my mistakes...

   I let them know about my medical marjuana card even though it's expired and I haven't gotten high in a while. I told them about the couple of times I stole candy bars at the super market when I was 7 or 8. I told them about the VERY few times I had tried other drugs, even why, with who, and how they made me feel. I told them that I had my car listed as being parked in Ojai after not living there anymore, to keep the lower car insurance rate. I told them I gave a friend with severe back pain some vicodin I had been prescribed after a root canal. After I was finished I sat down with an investigator to go over my answers. He asked me specifically about each instance where I had said yes, to clarify exactly what had happened, and to make sure this was the only instance for this particular "transgression." And on to the next. Exhausting but I thought I did well. I was honest, respectful, and even remorseful where applicable. 

   I guess they didn't agree because in spite of my perceived success at the interview, I got a letter in the mail yesterday saying that the LAPD has concluded that I don't meet their standards and will not be able to participate in the Reserve Office Program. There are a few different areas listed as important in order to meet the standards, and the areas they didn't think I was up to snuff in were: Decision Making & Judgment as well as Maturity & Discipline. WHAT PLANET ARE THEY FROM? HAVE THEY NOT MET ME? Perhaps this is way too egotistical and self-obsessed of me to say, but who makes better decisions than I? And who is more mature and disciplined? So, a bit disappointed today. But what a great ride and what a great experience.

Farewell sweet dream...

   The parts that I didn't get to experience (but was really looking forward to) was the Physical Abilities Test where you have to do a certain amount of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and also have to be able to drag a 165 pound weight for 32 feet (!) There was also the Polygraph test, the Department Interview, the Medical and Psychological Evaluation before you get to the Academy.

 Not my car...

   So today, I am a bit sad that I won't be riding along in that big black and white car and turn the siren on. And a bit disappointed that I won't be able to demand that everyone call me "Officer Cahn." But as far as the Glock is concerned, I know if I'm itching to shoot one I can always call Matt (of Number 17: Fire a Gun fame) and meet him at the gun range! 

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! 

  
 

Number 15: Run a 5K

   Jews don't run. Don't know where I heard it but it makes sense to me, since I'm Jewish and I don't run. There are a lot of things Jews do well but I don't remember ever having heard of a famous Jewish runner. I googled "Jewish Runners" so that I could really speak with authority. Because I love to speak with authority (be right.) Turns out I was wrong. Just like there is J Date, there is an organization called J Runners.

   In spite of my feelings about running, I started training for the 5K a couple of months ago. And yes, if you've never run anything before, you actually do train for a 5K even though it's just about 3 miles. My friend John, of Burgers & Sisters fame, had offered to run it with me and found the race itself, in Playa Del Rey. I started by walking or jogging the Silverlake reservoir, sometimes with Maya, sometimes with Wei-ning, and sometimes alone. 

                  
                                     A few of the albums on my 80's playlist

    When I run alone, I listen to 80's music and let my mind go wherever it wants to. All those thoughts that I keep in check for the rest of the day (so I can be productive and happy) can roam freely; hopes, dreams, fantasies, and sometimes an evil thought works its way in. If I'm with Maya or Wei-ning, it's more of a good catch-up session then an actual workout. 

Me and Wei-ning on graduation day last month

   July 18th, which once seemed so far away, finally rolled around and I got up early, put my running shoes on and headed to Playa Del Rey with Wei-ning, Nate and John. Wei-ning is a close friend and an extraordinary writer, and she's been my saving grace at the AFI. For those of you who were with me through "the split," you know that it happened the week before I started the AFI, so there was some personal unraveling the first few months of school. Wei-ning was there for all of it; listening, being sweet, kind and offering sound advice. We also had the good fortune of being in the same writing workshop both years so we're incredibly familiar with each other's writing which makes for really good, constructive critique. 

 Nate "Show-off" Crocker, finishing in 6th place!!!

   Nate Crocker is another AFI screenwriting fellow, and I'm really impressed with his writing, which is way beyond his years. He wrote a great original TV pilot about boxers this past semester, which helped me not look entirely stupid when I started my training for Boxing Match a few weeks ago, incidentally at the boxing gym Nate also frequents, Fortune Gym. He is an all around athlete; runner, swimmer, boxer and I had a feeling he was going to put us all to shame. At least Wei-ning and I, since John has already completed various half-marathons and most recently, the LA marathon. Stay tuned for a biographical essay on John in next week's blog.

The organizers jumped the gun on my age...

   We got there, quickly checked in and got our numbers. Then the race started and Nate took off because he's a serious competitor. I needed to go to the bathroom right that very second, so I did. John and Wei-ning thought I was kidding at first, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. Of course, as I took off towards the bathrooms, people laughed at me, cheekily pointing out that I was going in the wrong direction, but Wei-ning and John waited patiently. So we got a late start, meaning we were actually the last people starting. 

   It quickly became clear that everyone served some sort of purpose on this beautiful day. Nate, who passed us by a couple of times was the carrot. Dressed in orange, he inspired me to keep going. Wei-ning, who had been sure she would be walking most of the way, quietly ran without whining once. So how could I? After all, this was my race... 

   John was the champion of positive energy and optimism, irritatingly so at times. Seriously though, he could have run ahead, but stayed back with us and kept me running with his positive reinforcements. After I told him I had hit my wall, about five minutes into the race, he enthusiastically declared "look we're already at 1 mile!" He also negotiated harshly with me when I wanted to slow down or power walk, telling me I could only do it until the next cone. 

  I won't lie to you. The race was HARD for me. Really HARD. What I thought was going to be easy was not, and quite tolling for my body it turns out. I had all my excuses ready to go; the blister, the asthma, my age....I only used the short legs one. "My legs are shorter than yours so I'm doing more work..." I said to John who rolled his eyes. Finally Wei-ning tapped into her evil side and said, "See that fat lady? You gonna let her beat you?" and off I went. 

   The Finish Line, which once had seemed so far away, all of a sudden appeared and I felt elated, happy, energized and proud. I sped up. John ran ahead to get the photo of me crossing it, and it was such an incredible feeling. My time? 38 minutes and 2 seconds, so certainly not medal worthy or ground breaking. But shave off a couple of minutes for my potty run...and yeah...it's only slightly better. 

   A minute later I got a little teary eyed. The thing about me and crying is that I cry more when I'm happy or moved, then when I'm upset. And I know, 5K isn't a lot. But it was a lot for me and my short legs. I accomplished something today. Something I honestly didn't ever picture myself doing. And I learned something about myself, as with so many of these challenges...that my strong will and stubborn mind takes over where my athletic ability falls short. And that if there is something that I really want to do, I can do it.     

   As long as I have good friends to cheer and support and train and run with. So thanks to my friends John, Wei-ning and Nate for today! 

Number 13: Skydive

    This was one of many things my friend Cliff Olin put on the list, so it was only fair that we did it together. Cliff is a founding member of Burgers & Sisters which is the highlight of my week; truffle burgers on Friday nights with Cliff, John Kazlauskas, Brian Studler and myself at Umami on Hollywood. John's boyfriend Michael Hundgen comes too...and he's the one who named our group so cleverly (after the show we all met on.) 

 A regular day at B&S: Cliff is distracted and I'm over it

    But back to Cliff who is savant smart, impatient and hilariously dramatic. He is a feast of character and creativity and at the same time can act like a 12-year-old, which makes him a great hang. I interviewed him for the Brothers and Sisters blog and it turned out to be pretty funny. One of the things he added to my list was Make a Baby which originally was "Make a Baby and Don't Abort it." I opted to keep the second part out since that would insinuate that I had made babies before and aborted them. Not that there's anything wrong with abortion. Well, you get the point.

    A Danish friend, Mikkel, recommended Lake Perris and so that's where we headed. Cliff raised some issues about having a man on his back (of course he would) but I promised him that with all the protective clothing, he would be safe.

    In preparation, we had both put our affairs in order by emailing our wills to the rest of our Burgers & Sisters group. Cliff willed his heart (to me,) his mind (Calista,) his parking space at ABC (N/A,) and his Dad (Todd.) I willed my Golden Girls DVD Collection (Kazlauskas,) hair products (Cinquemani,) booze (Studler,) and my spanky pants (Todd). Neither of us had slept very well the night before, so we were giggly and sleepy but excited. 

     

 Emergency Contacts

    I don't know which was funnier; that Cliff listed Ron Rifkin as his emergency contact, phone number and all, or that when I said I wanted to list Sally Field, Cliff did a perfect impersonation of her getting the notification call; "WHO died? I'm sorry but I have no idea who that is..."

Harnessed and ready!

    Then we met our instructors. I had Kenneth, a tall and very cute Danish guy who reminded me of Roy Jenkins, my favorite Groundlings teacher, who I have always had a crush on. The most important thing - other than how delightful he was - was that I felt safe and taken care of. Besides, it's never a bad idea to be strapped to a strapping young Dane, and not just because we could speak to each other without anyone else understanding. We put on overalls and harnesses and got on the plane which was old and rickety and made me feel like I was in the RAF during World War II. 

My eyes are closed...I'm already dreaming of Kenneth

    I don't know how to express or explain what came next...because you really have to experience it. Kenneth and I threw ourselves out of the plane and for a few seconds I was lost and confused and scared and dislocated. Then I took a deep breath and relaxed and I just naturally started laughing. I couldn't stop. It was so fun and funny...the feeling, the experience. He yelled "PULL" and I didn't, so he did and that was a good thing. Until the parachute opened, it was crazy and chaotic and windy and loud and fantastic. Then once it opened, there was a calm and a stillness and an incredible view. Peace and quiet in my mind. And again, being strapped to Kenneth wasn't awful either. As we landed, I saw Cliff on the ground going nuts with excitement. We both couldn't believe we actually did it! 

    We got to the car and started to drive back to LA and I fell asleep almost right away. All my energy was zapped and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. I have no idea how Cliff stayed awake behind the wheel...  

    When I woke up we were almost at our next stop, Philippe, in downtown LA. We walked in, starved and stupid. I say stupid because our brains clearly weren't operating at full capacity. Probably not even half. I couldn't say macaroni salad no matter how hard I tried so I ordered coleslaw. Three French Double Dip sandwiches, coleslaw, four lemonades and a banana cream pie later we were starting to get some energy back. Just enough to get back to Cliff's where we both collapsed on the couch for a nap, not quite believing we had just thrown caution to the wind and ourselves out of a plane at 12,000 feet. 

    What an AWESOME day....mange tak til Mikkel og Kenneth...but most of all, THANK YOU, Cliff "Cooch" Olin!