Lucia Frangione

A tale of two cities runs through my head as my car refuses to turn over on Main and fifteenth tonight. Anita is visiting and I am so delighted to see her! But poor little Mini the Blue. I hope there isn’t much wrong with her, for her sake and for mine. I won’t be able to keep her if she costs me too much to fix. I would have a hard time justifying to my family that I wish to repair my eleven year old Mini Cooper simply because she pleases me aesthetically and I am in love with…

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I pull off the band-aid from my arm. I have given blood today, B+ being one of the rarer types. Was it too soon after my operation? Maybe I gave too much. I slid into a hot dizzy nausea when they removed the needle. It kept me sideways in a bed with a cockeyed swarthy doctor calmly ordering, “kick your legs, kick your legs” while a skittish nurse threw long wet white stripes of cloth and ice water over my neck and wrists. What-?! What is she doing?! I gasp, alarmed at the wet soggy shock of cold. I want…

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A raccoon, sitting fatly on her matronly haunches, plucks tulip bulbs out of my planter with the delicacy of a fine French lady. She pops them into her mouth with succulent glee as though they were escargot tucked into a round silver server. First the white one, then the purple, then the orange. I wonder if they taste differently? “Hm, an early peach parrot imported from Holland, crisp and light. Hm, a late black swan, a hint of bitterness, satisfying crunch.” I don’t see her do this, but who else would leave the pot so tidy? Seeing the careful circular…

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Okay, I have to save this one before I forget it…serve in wedges so you can eat a wedge before your guests arrive and they will never know! INGREDIENTS: 3-5 rashers of bacon, 1 apple, 3 green onions with whites 1/2 cup butter 2/3 cup brown sugar 2 eggs 1 cup buttermilk 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1 cup cornmeal 1 cup all-purpose flour 1/2 teaspoon salt Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (175 degrees C). In a 12″ skillet, saute: 3-5 slices of bacon, cut into small chunks of delight once it starts giving off some grease, add: 1 apple,…

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I stand in front of a Chagall in Ms G’s bedroom, “All my nudes are in here”, she says with a sincere and nearly shy smile. In the living room, she obliges me and quickly points out originals and lithos of Picasso, Matisse, Miro…an Andy Warhol litho of Mick Jagger signed by Mick Jagger…and quite a few other remarkable pieces of art I am too ill informed to understand their worth. I only know they look fantastic and their beauty moves me to tears. Of all of them, I am  transfixed by the erotic Chagall and return to the bedroom…

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The crescent moon smiles in the sky so giddy and wide, it must have had too much champagne. Venus twinkles like the moon’s diamond earring…she’s lost the other one. Oh, it’ll be somewhere in the galaxy. Unless the vacuum sucks it up. Yeah, this gal is kind of upside down and sideways and not really representing Islam tonight. But she fits the San Francisco skyline just fine. I pass an old Yeye on the corner of Irving and 9th. He is playing jingle bells on the Erhu over and over and over again. Does he wonder why he isn’t getting…

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I was out with skinny friends tonight who simply forget to eat. So, only one meal today for Lucia. But, there were snacks at rehearsals so I ate a lot, a LOT of crackers and cheese. Now I’m home, polishing off a bag of raw arugula in an effort to create a balanced meal. I wash it down with some Gran Marnier because I’m sure to have a stomach ache anyway. I kick up my feet in my little San Fran apartment and smile: it’s been a great day. We had rehearsals tonight and it was a fun reunion with…

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I walk along the glorious blue Ceanothus in Golden Gate park in that gorgeous Bay light that makes any woman in San Francisco feel like a star. Normally I would be giddily browsing the shops on Fillmore, the Haight, Union Square and Soma…I’m a girl who loves my cocktail dresses and shoes…but this trip I am avoiding temptation and sticking to the parks. JP cast me in his latest film and when I ask him, “What is scheduled for today?” He smiles, “For you, a day off.” What a gracious and smart director. I pass the Victorian carousel, the rose garden,…

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I have to admit, I usually ace my titles. They are just never a problem for me. I usually know my title when I write up my one pager. But this time I have struggled for years to come up with one. Here is what it used to be called – followed by the comments I got from the dramaturge, my agent or the artistic director I was speaking to at the time: Sanctuary – too religious sounding and also the title of a sci-fi tv show Haven – also the title of a sci-fi tv show Big Moon –…

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Bleak fragile fiddleheads and big fluttery farfalle. Nora and I swing our grocery bags as we wander down to our house, making up new meanings for BFF. I am impressed with her Italian word. The offer we considered putting on a house up the street gets out bid by a hundred thousand dollars and we are relieved: we have no intentions of being that stupid. Some poor family is either stuck for a home or they got caught in the frenzy or they didn’t wander around the house with a man who builds houses to know the wiring was shot,…

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