THE SUPERFICIALS

I hate being a cliche, but this weekend I embodied one of the feminine worst: When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. For me it was window shopping, but shopping nonetheless; I spent part of both Saturday and Sunday in malls. Bought nothing, I am proud to claim! It was raining, friends were available, money not, so what else but leisurely mall strolls and handling fine fabrics practically 'til they're no longer sellable? 'Twas raining like a bitch, if you'll excuse the ugly word, and warm, product-laden stores were so ... nice.

(I did buy a few See's chocolates. Forgot about that.)

At one point Joni--my age--led me into her absolute favorite store,"Forever 21." Sure, you may think she's too old for that store, but Joni's unlike anyone in our age category. Migod, the girl can still get away with wearing miniskirts and short, ruffled shirts! (Former model and yoga instructor, by way of explanation.) Anyway, with a burst of teen fashions in vivid spring colors gaily beckoning to us, Joni and I entered the store and I immediately noticed everyone there was at least 20 years younger. But management was playing great rock'n'roll, and for about 15 minutes I remembered being 16 and having nothing more to think about than the very clothing item I was desperate to find. Back then, usually jeans and a certain pair of boots or sandals were the couture of choice. Now, still jeans. Shoes, sometimes; but more often than not I'll choose bare feet or slippers.

As the rock'n'roll played I suddenly had this flash of what I could be in another life: a rock star with closets of flashy clothes and money to burn. So I patiently stood alongside Joni as she fingered flimsy crepe see-through camisoles in aqua and magenta, making cooing sounds, and imagined how utterly ludicrous it would be if I chose to wear something like that, and it hit me: What the hell am I doing here? Then I concentrated on Joni's face. She was . . . elated. There was nothing else she could be doing that pleased her more, unless it was selecting one of those blouses in every color and buying them without a second thought. Woman, I silently shouted, get a hold of yourself! I was actually talking to myself, not my friend. Isn't being in a store like this and knowing it's an everyday pleasure, age irrelevant, what being American is all about? Well, hell yes!

So the brief guilt I felt for going to the mall two days in a row made about as much impact on my sensibility as filling my gas tank--idiotically pricey, but what's my alternative? For like it or not, a good part of me even outdoes Joni's store. I fight it, but underneath this aging body is a creature who's "Forever 16." I'm in the band, honey, and we sing, (to the tune of "My Generation." Apologies to THE WHO:)

People try to put us down
Just because we get around
Living free and loving to spend . . .
Hope this style will never end!

CELEBRITYVILLE

Okay, hold your breath; don't leave just yet -- I have something quasi-exciting to report, since I was able to attend a press trip to the set of Steven Spielberg's upcoming blockbuster, "War of the Worlds". In so doing I discovered that one of my favorite highways around here (Rt. 126) was flooded out during the Big Rains and so the acres of orange groves shedding such quintessential California ambience were looking a little ratty around the edges, and both sides of the highway were packed with streams of dried mud.

But I really want to tell you that Tom Cruise is just so cute and so nice! Everyone says so! For about 20 minutes, he and Steven graced a group of reporters with their stellar presence, talking oh-so-articulately about the film, but not giving anything away. (Well, the aliens have tentacles...but from what producer Kathleen Kennedy told us, they're unlike any tentacles we've ever seen before. Ooooh!)

I was not aggressive enough to get any questions in. But all the more pro-active of the crew elicited answers to everything I wanted to know. You could tell the two men are simply great pals and are having a lot of fun -- unlike the extras we saw, who were directed to keep slogging back and forth under fake rain during the refugee sequence we watched being filmed. Cruise, Dakota Fanning and another actor poked along in their van.

In case you're wondering? These two top-flight celebs are just people. So happens they're people who fell right into exactly what they were born to do.

LET ME VENT!
When Don gets peeved about something he has no compunctions about "letting all hang out" with me. I don't mind being a sounding board, but sometimes emotions run so high that I feel I'm the target. when I cower, he rushes to assure me that I am not the target. It's a personality thing, and let's just say he vents with emphasis! I, on the other hand, tend to sluff off my worst moods by whining (that's the word Don uses) or complaining or shopping or taking Buckwheat for a walk.
Today is one of those days, specifically because I didn't sleep well. I have some peeves and since I did take B. on a very nice walk on a local trail but feel hardly less peeved, I will list some major gripes. Getting off my chest:
1. Can't clean. My house always seems messy.
2. Dishes. There are always dirty dishes!
3. My veins are showing through my hands--what's that about??
4. UFOs: Goddammit, let's have the truth already!!
5. I can't eat a decent Mexican meal without getting heartburn.
6. My hair is like limp fur.
7. A woman I know died recently and I want to--but can't--know where she is.
8. Credit card debt!
8. I don't see my grandkids enough.
9. My son never calls.
10. I haven't been on an airplane since before 9/11.

There. I feel a little better. These gripes are so petty, I could wither in embarrassment. Except, perhaps for Numero Quatro. But that's a story for another time -- or another blog.