Hollywood stars are not going to use this secret trick

Yesterday was my birthday. I realize this morning that 59 is old. When there's leftover pie, you might as well eat some for breakfast. You may not get another chance.

Not that I am going to go completely crazy, but this is a time to loosen the rules a little. It occurs to me I am never going to look like Hugh Jackman, and that's okay. While I'm sure Mr. Jackman is an affable and decent fellow, and very talented, a big part of his job is looking good for a living. Thus he sacrifices, and he has an army of people to advise him about what he eats, wears and how much and how often he exercises.

I woke up at five this morning to write. There's nothing particularly virtuous about it; it was just that I'd slept long enough and there was nothing I wanted to do more than get started in my study.

A more disciplined man would start the day with a 3-mile run or a grapefruit, both of which would improve my chances of getting into last year's pants. Though I'll take some time for physical activity later today, it isn't my first priority at this point in my life, and I'm not going to be slavish or self-sacrificial about it.

I asked for a birthday pie, and Vicki is so kind and sweet that she made one, marionberry, my favorite, and it might have been her first. The filling was soupy, but you could spoon it over the crust and it was delicious.

I'm having a wedge for breakfast, and if Hugh Jackman is in the neighborhood, he can run over and have some too.