Why Yes, I Am In the New York Times ...

Thank you for asking. When the Gray Lady calls, you pick up the phone ...

Yes, But Will It Help My Split Ends?

Escape from Hollywood

Tonight I went out with Natalie, the funny, smart and ethereal beauty I am lucky enough to call one of my best friends. I got to Citizen Smith in Hollywood before she and her BF did. A lot earlier. So it was basically me, clutching a glass of wine, propped up against a concrete pillar, people watching. To pass the time, I made up a game, "Who's over 15?" There weren't that many. The other game was, "Where Does She Keep Her Organs?" And of course the classic,"Who Forgot Her Pants?" (answer: all of them).

Nat and C finally showed up. Which was good, because I had already prepared a text for her announcing that I just wasn't into it and sucking down the last of my wine. Happy to see her. Happy to see him.

Happy to be home now, eating a lasagne.

Day of Reckoning

There are several times a year when we take inventory. New Year's, for sure, to think about what didn't work the past year and what we'd like to manifest for the days to come. Birthdays, to reflect on where we've been and what we've learned. And of course, tax time. Where the hell did it all go?

Over the past few days I've been gathering numbers for my accountant, who has quite cleverly moved to some cheap plot of land in Texas or Utah or Colorado, I don't know, some state where they have cowboys. Yes, I had to plow through a lot of numbers. But I've come up with several realizations, that don't necessarily fall into a mathematical mindset.

1. I work harder than almost anyone I know. Karen and Rachel, my lifelong friends who are, respectively, an English professor and ER doc, probably best me on this. Elperks, a second AD in many movies and television shows you've seen and loved, pulls those looooooong days and nights. Amanda goes around the world to grab images that will change lives. OK. Maybe I don't work harder. But I do work a lot. Most of my waking hours.

2. I give a lot of presents and contribute to many charities. I hadn't realized that. $20 here and $100 there -- I'd imagine that it adds up after a while, and hopefully does some good.

3. I could probably do a couple of my own mani-pedis during the year.

4. I'm rethinking the cleverness of real estate. There are a lot of added costs that I won't see an ROI for, say, 15 years. What if I don't live that long? I think I was frigging CRAZY to do a kitchen remodel, frankly. But whatever. It's nice and there's no turning back now.

5. It would be nice to spend a calendar year lost on an island, trading coconuts and massages and English lessons for food and sunblock. No cash. Just services and goods. In fact, I think I'm going to pitch that.

6. My dog LuLuBelle? She's practically free except for the organic kibble she gets twice a day, and the occaisonal benign tumor removal. She's been the most stable element in my life for 12 years, and will be for 100 more. She is what I count on the most. There is no box for her on any IRS form.

When Geeks Get Mad

Police: Man killed friend with sword after chess game in
Alameda

An evening that started with two friends playing chess and drinking beers
ended with one man stabbed to death and another booked on murder charges
Tuesday, Alameda police said.

Kelly Scott Kjersem, a 40-year-old Alameda man, arrived earlier in the evening at 1220 Park Avenue with a 12-pack of beer, police Lt. Bill Scott said.

Kjersem was visiting the home of his friend, Joseph W. Groom, 62, to drink and play chess. The two men played and drank for some time, and later a female friend of Groom's arrived and began cooking dinner for the two men.

While she was in the kitchen, she heard an argument break out between the two men, Scott said. She didn't know what it was about, but found the two men had started wrestling.

Groom stopped and retreated to his bedroom, Scott said. When he returned, he was brandishing a sword more than 2 feet long. Police said the sword was made in Pakistan.

... couldn't they just had a grudge match with Star Trek trivia or something?

A Harbinger

Today has begun poorly. The tomato slice from my bagel slid off and plopped into my tea. I should just go home now, cut losses, and sleep.

John Updike puts everything so beautifully here, in this poem, which sums up why you need to make absolutely sure that the people in your life know you love them, so that when it all goes "poof," they will know, without question, that you left this earth with a piece of them in your heart. Because really, the petty jealousies, the misguided outrages, the inferred insults -- they just don't really matter.

Perfection wasted

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market -
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it; no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.