Party On!

They say that postal carriers will brave rain, sleet, snow, and dark of night to deliver the mail. I just did that and more to deliver myself to a surprise party in Virginia last Sunday. One of the people dearest to me turned 80 years old. His beautiful wife gave him a fabulous surprise Sunday brunch at his favorite restaurant. It was an event that dozens of friends and family kept secret for many months despite the fact that many of us are over 50 and can't remember what we had for breakfast, much less remember to lie. You have to be really smart to be a good liar and sadly many of us tripped over our tongues a few times in recent weeks and had to think fast to cover up. Luckily, we made it through and he was speechless when he saw the smiling faces of the sixty people who traveled in the biggest snow of the year to be there. It was an amazing experience and I was honored to attend.

As so often happens with my crazy brain, I started thinking about birthdays. I think they are very exciting but a lot of people don't. I hate it when someone says that their birthday is "just another day". Are you kidding me? That's like saying that the Taj Mahal is just another building. Getting to be another year older should be one of the biggest days of a person's year. The alternative is being dead. I am not planning on doing dead for a long time.

I personally have my black belt in the art of the BIRTHDAY. You know how some people celebrate their birthday for a whole week? I celebrate for an entire month with courteous reminders to my near and dear weeks beforehand as to how many shopping days are left. I was born under the sign of Leo, so the minute the Zodiac goes into my sign on July 23rd, it is officially my birthday until we go into Virgo on August 22nd. My birthday is a big deal to me and so are the birthdays of the people that I care about.

Did you know that more people are born in August than any other month? And more birthdays fall on 0ctober 5th than any other day. February is the slowest month for birthdays. If your birthday is on May 22, then you have the distinction of coming into this world on the slowest day for births.

Do you know why we put candles on a birthday cake? You will know in a minute and if you are ever on Jeopardy! you will be ready if this comes up. The Greeks started the tradition of putting candles on a cake to honor the goddess of the moon, Artemis. The glow of the candles replicated the lunar glow. Pretty cool, huh?

I am especially fond of milestone birthdays which are 13, 16, 21,30,40,50 and 60. After sixty, the milestones come every 5 years—65,70, 75,80 and so on—according to the greeting card people. It makes sense since life becomes more of a craps shoot when you get up there in age. I'm all for it! Birthdays should be fabulous and if yours aren't, you need to make them so.

This article is dedicated to my darling Robert Kamel (yes, you say it just like the animal). You are such a star and you have proven that being kind, helping others, having integrity and a big heart, being a good father, husband and friend plus eating right and going to the gym 3-4 times a week pays off. Did I mention that you are also ridiculously handsome?

Damn, you are too young to be 80!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Heartstrings

Usually, saying funny things is second nature to me, but not today. I have taken the death of Robin Williams pretty hard. My friend Laine posted this on Facebook and I think her sentiments are perfect. “I feel like I have lost a family member”. When famous people die, I think we all think about what they have added to the world and feel sorry for their families. But for me, this has been a tough year.

When Maya Angelou passed away, I was saddened because I really love her. She gave me so much through her writing. I took comfort in the fact that she lived a long, rich life and worked until her body just gave out. To me she is one of the greatest philosophers of all time. I quote her often and find constant strength in her words.

She is sitting on my shoulder when I write. I am in no way comparing what I write to what Maya has written... that would be like comparing Shakespeare to the guy who writes blurbs for inside fortune cookies. But she set me free a long time ago, to say what was on my mind, to be proud to be a woman with a voice, and to be kind. She also didn’t trust people who didn’t know how to laugh. But the best thing about Maya was the insightful way she viewed life. She gave the world so much. She gave me unmeasurable amounts of wisdom that are now a part of who I am.

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”. “I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles 3 things. A rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.” - MAYA ANGELOU

Losing James Garner last month had a different kind of sadness for me. My daddy loved him. Watching the Rockford Files as a family was a big deal. My dad always said that James Garner was a man’s man and my dad was one too, so he would know. For anyone who saw his last acclaimed piece of work, The Notebook, Garner’s portrayal of a man in love with his ailing Alzheimer’s stricken wife was heart wrenching and beautiful. If you didn’t know, James Garner was married to the same woman for 58 years in real life. He also marched with Martin Luther King in the Jobs and Freedom March in 1963, when his acting career was in full swing and he had a lot to lose. And if you aren’t convinced that he cared about his country and its people, James Garner fought on the front lines in Korea, was wounded twice and was awarded two Purple Hearts. A man’s man and a woman’s man all rolled into one. His passing made me miss my father so much more.

And now Robin Williams is gone. From the very first time I saw him on Happy Days, I was in love. His wack-a-doo quirkiness as Mork was intoxicating. Robin was an incredibly funny stand-up comedian, but he gave something to acting that it had never seen before. Because Robin was such a genius ad libber, his prepared dialogue in his movie scripts was often abandoned because what came out of his mind and then his mouth was so much better. Brilliant doesn’t even begin to describe this man. He was a giver. He was one of the brains behind Comic Relief. The out pouring of love and heartfelt sentiments from the world prove what he meant to so many of us.

I was lucky enough to see him perform twice. About 20 years ago I was at the Improv in Hollywood and he stopped by to do an impromptu set. He was hilarious and adorable. But the best was when I went out to wait for my car at the valet; he was waiting, too. There were a dozen people there so I didn’t have to worry about making conversation, but it was exciting to be so close to someone I idolized. The second time was when I saw him perform live at a fundraiser a few years ago. He was on stage for over an hour and my face hurt from laughing for days afterwards. It was fabulous. From what I know, people always depended on him to help raise money for worthy causes.

It is hard not to think about how he left this world. He wasn’t almost 90 like Maya and James. He was in tremendous pain, emotionally. I have no idea what depression feels like, but I know what it looks like. I have a daughter who suffers every day from either being depressed, anxious or not liking the feeling of being on mood elevating drugs. She is working hard to overcome it, but it is extremely hard. She was the one I heard from first when the news of Robin was announced.

It is my hope that in his death, there will be a new awareness and understanding from people who don’t comprehend how overpowering the sadness can be for the people who struggle with mental illness. I hope great strides are made in his name and in his memory. For now, I am clinging to remembering him for being a comedic genius, stellar actor and unselfish humanitarian. I don’t have to say much because the tributes to him as a talent and a man are pouring in from all over the world.

Forgive me for not being funny today. I am just not feeling it. If you are still reading, thank you for sticking this out with me. I am going to Las Vegas on a buying trip. The big garment shows are there next week. When I come back, I shall be filled with humorous tales about Sin City. It’s the greatest people watching place in the world. And, lucky me, I get to go to a trade show on my birthday. I guess there is an age when your birthday is not a big deal, but I haven’t reached it yet. Have a great week.

Fair Game

My adorable grandson turned 6 last week. This is a pretty big birthday for a kid. He is still a little boy, but not for long. He hasn’t lost his front teeth yet, so he still has that baby boy innocence. I know it is only a short time before he shoots up like a weed and is all BOY. Before I can adjust to the rough and tumble years to come, I need to make sure we celebrate the end of his sweet-little-boy period that I have grown to love.

I decided that it would be a great idea to make an especially big deal of his birthday this year. You see, I now have a 16-month-old granddaughter, who at times takes the spotlight away from her cousin. I adore them both and I really felt that commemorating being 6 was the thing to do. Although I am really good at planning parties and creating events to remember, I was running on empty when it came to thinking up something fabulous for my little guy’s birthday. I raised a gaggle of girls and am an official “girlie girl” myself, so even though I have made great strides in grandmothering a boy, I didn’t have the foggiest notion what to do for his birthday. With girls, it’s so easy. You get them a poofy pink dress and a plastic tiara, buy them dolls, stuffed animals and candy and they are in birthday heaven. Boys are way harder to figure out and it doesn’t get any clearer when they grow up, I would like to add.

I have a wonderful relationship with my grandson and I love to have him on weekends, just me and him. It didn’t take me long to realize that little boys are just big boys that are not ripe yet. When my grandson was about 2 ½ and could talk, I learned real fast that what little men like is good home cooking, having the latest toys to play with and watching TV on the couch until they fall asleep on my lap as I stroke their hair.

Somebody was watching over me and I got a random email from one of my credit card companies that told of an upcoming event at our county fair. The MONSTER TRUCK Spectacular was happening on the same weekend as my grandson’s 6th birthday. He loves trucks! When I take him to buy a toy, it’s always some kind of truck. He never seemed to be interested in anything but “twucks”. Damn, I hated it when he learned to pronounce his R’s a few months ago. Childhood is so fleeting...

Not only could I take him to the fair for the first time, but we would top off the day in our grandstand seats seeing life-sized trucks with gigantic tires flip, fly, and do wheelies in dirt. I got so excited and bought tickets for the family. I couldn’t wait to take him on the carnival rides and buy him cotton candy, but not in that order. MONSTER TRUCKS... this was a brilliant stroke of luck. What fun!

So we "kidnapped" him from school early last Friday and headed for the county fair. It was the last weekend of the fair and it was jam-packed with families and daters and a whole lot of idiots. I held his little hand for dear life and my sister was my back up as we made our way through the crowds. His excitement when we finally reached the FUN ZONE turned quickly to horror: there was nothing that wasn’t death defying. What happened to the circus train ride and the cute little caterpillar roller coaster for kids and the boats that went around in a circular pool of water with a bell kids could ring? When I was a child, I used to do all the kiddie rides and then get all my courage up to finally go on the Tilt-a-Whirl with my dad. I was game to go on anything that my grandson wanted to try but at that moment he was trying not to cry. Rides with calibrated neon lights flashing had names like Cliff Hanger, Dive Bomber, Turbo Drop and the Screaming Swing loomed all around us. Since my name is not Fifi Knieval, I found the FUN ZONE to be not even slightly fun. I told my little man that he wasn’t quite tall enough for the rides this year and suggested we move on to the carnival games. We spent a lot of money trying to win stupid stuffed toys that nobody really wanted but isn’t that part of the fun of the fair?

Finally it was time for the show. He still had no idea what was going on. The look on his face when the monster trucks roared onto the field was worth everything. He could not believe what he was watching! These crazy trucks screeched around the track and sped over ramps so they could fly through the air. One guy even drives backwards ONLY. Although I have never been to an event like this and would probably not admit to it ever, I liked it way better than I thought I would. Watching those giant trucks with wheels the size of the moon careen around corners and take flight off of piles of rubbish was really exciting. The crowd was into it big time. The hooting and hollering at all the antics on the track was worth the price of admission. At the very end of the show, one of the trucks went off the ramp and did a complete 360 flip, landed and bounced 10 feet up. If I didn’t know better, I would think my sister was giving these drivers driving lessons. Ha Ha! She will read this and roll her eyes, but if working at LoveFifi doesn’t work out for her, she could have a brilliant future in the monster truck business. She already knows the basics.

My grandson had the very best time, but he is only 6 and it was late. He was tired. As we headed out towards the exit, he wanted something to eat. I tried to entice him into the deep fried watermelon on a stick or a bacon wrapped dill pickle, but he just wanted a cup of gelato.

We were almost out when he spotted a blow up airplane on a stick and a light up plastic saber that glowed in the dark. He looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes and asked if he could choose one. I told him “NO” and then smiled and told him he must get both. It’s his birthday! That’s what grandmothers do. Deal with it. I didn’t even wince when I handed over $20 dollars for 2 toys with a life expectancy of 24 hours. All I could do was be grateful to be alive and know that this child loves me almost as much as I love him.

Happy Birthday, Xavier.

Party Animal

I am one of those crazy people who love when my birthday comes around. I almost always have a party or go somewhere special. I make a big deal of it because I am very happy to be alive and well.

I honestly don't understand people who are content with letting their birthday just be another day. Let me be very clear... I love to celebrate other people's birthdays, too. I just think birthdays are wonderful fun.

So I am planning a really great event this year. I am having one of those huge milestone birthdays in about a week, so I thought I would do it up right. Just about everyone I care about will be there with the exception of some people who live very far away. They will be there in my heart. I really hope to be stupid-rich someday so I can have everyone I love attend my next big one. Crap! If only I had played the Power Ball last night. The pot was $400 million. Somebody won it and it could have been me.

I think it is so much fun to spoil the ones who mean the most. I am having this affair catered so no one, including myself, has to cook. Since the party is in the afternoon, I am doing all appetizers. The caterer emailed me a list of choices. Aren’t my friends and family going to be excited to be dining on such yummies as “smoked almond stuffed dates wrapped in bacon with chipotle brown sugar drizzle”. Will I ever be able to serve them Doritos and bean dip again?

My parties always have a theme. I have asked my guests to wear only black and white. I have no idea what I will wear, but I did have a brief fantasy about appearing in shocking pink and being the only one who was different. It seemed a little too flashy so I abandoned the idea. Black and white are much more slimming anyway. My sister is constantly reminding me that I am not Beyonce, Angelina Jolie or Queen Elizabeth and to reel in my diva-ness. I try, but it’s not easy being me.

I tried to get some entertainment for this shindig, but it seems that there is not much available for grown ups. All the “talent” readily available is more suited for children of drunken bachelors. If I thought my guests would appreciate having their faces painted or jumping on a moon bouncer, I have lots of choices. I did consider the moon bounce idea proceeded by tequila shooters, but rethought the danger and the vomit aspects and decided NO.

If I had wanted to see scantily clad beauties parading around my party, that would have been easy, too. But let’s face it, I can do that at work. While I was actually typing this article, the leader of a group from the agency I contacted called me to talk about the entertainment. I was clear about the type of music I like when I submitted the order and I had my doubts about this group from the beginning of the conversation. He worked hard to convince me that their ensemble could sing many styles. I wanted a R&B kind of group. Try as he could, this man just couldn’t convince me that a barbershop quartet could deliver Motown. No group is THAT versatile.

I have been so busy with LoveFifi, I didn’t start the planning of this party until a few days ago. Trying to throw it all together and make it completely divine isn’t an easy task, but I will do it.

And in case you were wondering do I plan to have birthday celebrations in the years to come? For as long as I have birthdays, my darlings. If I can figure out a way to have parties even after I take my dirt nap, I will “party on” forever. Would you expect any less of me?

The "S" Word

Remember when you were in high school and being a SENIOR was nearly god-like status? Seniors were the coolest, most privileged, and most admired students on campus. If you were an underclass person, your “cool quotient” went up significantly if you hung out or dated someone in the senior class. Being a senior had so many perks. Senior trips, senior rings, senior prom, and, of course, graduation and all the parties and hoopla that went with it. Yes, being a senior was a big deal.

Then you go to college and start the process all over again on a grander scale. You graduate and become an official grown up. You embark on your career and if you remain on a success path, you may become a senior partner, senior officer, senior account executive, or, even, a senior vice-president along the way. The magic of becoming a senior anything is very prestigious.

And then you turn 50. Just as you start getting used to the idea, strange letters start arriving a few months before your birthday. The first thing that comes in the mail is your letter from AARP... The American Association of Retired Persons. It kind of stuns you because most people approaching the big 5-0 have completely bought into 50 being the new 40. Then we get this invitation to join a group that offers “tools and services to help people 50 and over get the most out of life”. I was doing fine until I got their damn letter. Even though the couple they pictured on their brochure looked like Mark Harmon and Jamie Lee Curtis, I wasn’t fooled. They were talking about old people.

Then the Social Security Administration sends you a recap of your 3+ decades of work history and your benefits if you should decide to retire at 62 or 66. There’s that “retirement” word again! Why are they sending me this stuff when I am only 50, still working and feeling the same as I did when I was 35?

It wasn’t until I got my first issue of the AARP magazine that I truly understood what was going on. As I turned the pages, I kept seeing the same word over and over again. SENIOR. There were articles about senior housing, senior health, budgeting for seniors, senior travel and, even, senior sex. Oh my!

What happened to the magic and charisma that went with being a senior before your 50th birthday? Gone! Vanished! POOF! You turn 50 and the word “senior” turns ugly.

You can ignore all of this for a few years, but then 55 happens. Then the moment arrives when you are faced with the lure of the “Senior Discount”. You’re ordering a Breakfast Slam at Denny’s and notice that you get a pretty big savings if you are a senior 55+. At first, I pretended that this discount didn’t really matter. It certainly didn’t mean enough to me to order a Senior Slam out loud. But then you start noticing it all over the place. Rental cars, hotels, and movie theaters all offer discounts to seniors. When you are 55, you blow off a lot of the offers because it’s for 60 year olds and up. You make a point to announcing to the waitress or whoever that you don’t qualify for the special senior price. It feels so good. The airlines require you to be 65, so I have loads of time before I can use that.

The first time you admit to being a senior to get the discount is a life changing experience. I was at Dairy Queen with a group of friends and their kids. We all wanted big extravagant sundaes. I bit the bullet, ordered six ice cream confections and they let me use my 55+ discount for the whole order. Not only were my friends impressed, the guy behind the counter made me show him my driver’s license because he couldn’t believe I was that old. For me, the whole experience was like the first time I had sex, only better. A cute young man didn’t think I looked like a geezer and I had a big yummy Pecan Mudslide. Being a senior became almost blissful again. I think I just invented Senior-licious. You people over 50 people can thank me.