Saturday, June 25, 2016

Bad Luck To Say Good Luck

Our first day of rehearsals for "Brushes" went so well, the SJG is knocking on wood, saying kina hora poo poo poo and dancing a Broadway-style hora, all at the same time. So much activity so early the morning. I'm already exhausted. Oh, and here's a question. Why does everyone keep telling me to break a leg? Ouch. I'd rather not, if it's all that same. I know, I know. There are many theories on the break a leg thing. My guess: it started with a Yiddish saying and wound up in the German theater and ever since, it's been bad luck to say good luck. But if it's okay by you, instead of breaking a leg, I'll just kick myself. In all the excitement, I forgot to take a single photo of our first day of rehearsals. Which means I have no visible proof that any of this is actually happening. I could be making the whole thing up just to compensate for some deep-seated issue I can't quite identify till my next shrink comes along. So you'll just have to trust me. I would never lie to you, intentionally. That would be wrong.

Friday, June 24, 2016

I Hear You Knocking But You Can't Come In

Cathy, here only three hours, already overstaying her welcome. 

So far, I've locked her outside in the backyard - excuse me, dead-bolted her - to the point where she had to call me on the cellphone and say, "Uh, let me in." And when I shut off the AC last night, she dissed me on Travelocity. On a happy note, I'm slowly converting this Cafeteria Catholic to the ways of my people, starting with a blintz souffle. She's already given me a fairly positive review on Yelp. "Light, fluffy and appropriately delicate for the discriminating Kansas palate. Would've preferred homemade jam. Where I come from, we frown on store-bought."

Thursday, June 23, 2016

The Travelin' Kansan

The updates started early this morning, along with the photo I will not post, for fear of retribution:
"Well, I've been up since 4 and spilled coffee on myself in the car."
My reply: "Oy vey. I can Shout it out for you."
A few minutes later, the next update, more alarming than the last:
"I can't get the top of my Smart Water bottle open."
My reply: "Oh, dear God! Ask a tall, dark and handsome stranger for help. This is an emergency."
Then, 30 minutes later, this:
"Just figured it out. Only took me a half hour. I'm on the aisle with the tiniest person in the middle seat. Ba-bye."
My reply: "Perfect. I knew you could do it. Safe travels!"

And so, she's on her way. Cathy Hamilton is officially flying in from Kansas for our big weekend of rehearsals and the staged reading of the show we wrote together -- "Brushes: A Comedy of Hairs." It's my turn to host her after she's hosted me more times than she probably wants to remember. To welcome her to sunny, hot, sweaty Sherman Oaks, I'm making her, what else, a blintz soufflé. But shush, don't tell her. It's a surprise.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Gee How Lucky Can You Get?

At the Ivy: John, the lovely and talented Robin Dearden, and
someone who wandered into the restaurant and said,
"Mind if I join you?"

It's true. When it comes to my brother John, I'm lucky. We've been partners in silliness since we were kids, always looking for ways to crack each other up, whether we were playing hide and seek in department stores, or dining in his old station wagon in the parking lot of Jack in the Box. So much fun and laughter. So many shared interests. So many memories. It's true. I couldn't ask for a kinder, more caring and hilarious brother. He's with me in good times and bad, always there, no matter the occasion. It's true. We keep each other going through all the craziness. How lucky am I? So lucky, it's ridiculous. Happy, happy birthday, John. It's true. You're still and will always be older than me.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Emotional Weather Report

Today's Emotional Weather Report, brought to you by the Short Jewish Gal of Sherman Oaks:  Early morning self-indulgence. Overheated thinking in the afternoon. Evening cool down with a chance of light kvetching.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Father's Day Reflections

Nice hot people

"It's freakin' hot."
"Who made this superior blintz soufflé?"
"You."
"Hottest Father's Day Ever."
"Isn't the garden lovely?"
"Yes, John."
"Best Blintz Soufflé Ever."
"Amy's Apple Fritters trump your blintz soufflé."
"How dare you."
"How dare you mention you know who."
"Who?"
"You know who."
"It was completely intentional."
"How about that gazebo?"
"Best Gazebo Ever."
"If I perish in the heat, it was pretty nice knowing you, more or less."
"Ditto."
"Except for that time you bit my elbow."
"I never bit your elbow."
"Oh, yes you did. You were a baby. You were crawling. You saw my elbow, and you went in for a nibble. Please, don't make me relive it."
"Your elbow needed some kosher salt, as I recall."
"Hurtful."
"It's freakin' hot."
"Let's go inside."
"You go inside. I'll stay outside and suffer."
"You're so good at that."
"It's a gift."

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Light On His Feet

If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again
(Luther Vandross)

Happy Father's Day, Daddy B.
Wish you were here.