rose bowl

His father says it all the time.

Anthony Frias II will suffer a setback, like those scary months when the UCLA running back was stuck in transfer portal limbo, unsure if his college career was over, and he’ll hear those familiar words.

It’s part of the movie.

He’ll strain in anonymity, police repeatedly coming to the door of his home at 2:30 a.m. because neighbors kept complaining about the sound of weights slamming onto the floor of the garage after another sweaty deadlift, and here comes his father’s favorite phrase again.

UCLA running back Anthony Frias II’s family gathers for a photo in front of the Rose Bowl before cheering for him and the Bruins.

(The Frias family)

It’s part of the movie.

Then there’s moments like last weekend, when something happens that makes this whole improbable journey feel like it’s just getting started, like there’s so much left to do and so many people to inspire for the kid from a tiny town in the San Joaquin Valley who once had no college scholarship offers.

Having been made a bigger part of the offensive game plan against Maryland, Frias bolted for his first career touchdown run. Later, with the Bruins needing to reach field-goal range in the game’s final moments, he chugged ahead for 35 yards, dragging defenders with him to set up the winning score.

When Frias emerged from the tunnel inside the Rose Bowl afterward to reconnect with his family, having starred inside the stadium where he once stood as a teenager with a sign proclaiming that he would play there one day, it was only a matter of time before he heard that refrain once more.

“Every time something happens, he mentions it,” the namesake son said of his father, “and it gives me a little bit more belief each time that he’s right.”

For many years, the genre of Anthony Frias II’s story seemed uncertain.

Would it be a hero’s tale? A drama about unfulfilled dreams?

The only sure thing was the conviction of the boy and his father who believed their journey would take them well beyond the confines of Le Grand, Calif., population 1,592.

Little Anthony wanted to play football so badly growing up that after suffering a hairline fracture in his knee that was supposed to sideline him for the rest of the season, he made his own rehabilitation plan.

He was only 9.

Setting his alarm for 5:30 in the morning, he’d wake his father and they would go for a 1½-mile run to a relative’s home for workouts before running back. With his team on the verge of its championship game, Anthony needed a doctor’s clearance to return ahead of schedule.

One morning, he took a crumpled piece of paper to his mom in bed. When she awoke unexpectedly, he ran away nervously. Sabrina Frias looked at the paper, which outlined his recovery and mentioned that he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Anthony Frias II was in high school when he stood in front of the Rose Bowl while holding up a sign that read, “One day I will play here!” and featured the Stanford logo. He realized his dream of playing in the Rose Bowl, although it was for UCLA.

(The Frias family)

Anthony left his fate in his mother’s hands, asking her to make a choice — circle the “Yes” he had written alongside a happy face or the “No” alongside a sad face.

Her heart breaking at the thought of denying her son, she circled “Yes.” Anthony went on to score every point in his team’s 20-19 victory.

By the time he was 13, Anthony had modeled his playing style after Christian McCaffrey, the dynamic Stanford running back who was making a strong push for the Heisman Trophy. That made the Christmas present he received that year — tickets to see Stanford play Iowa in the Rose Bowl — an all-time favorite.

Before the game, Anthony’s father painted a giant red “S” on his son’s bare chest. Together, they made a sign that Anthony held above his head while standing outside the stadium. It read, “One day I will play here!”

Looking back, Anthony said the sign was mostly his father’s idea.

“He just knew,” Anthony said, “that I was gonna be so special.”

Few shared that belief when Anthony was coming out of high school.

Starring for Turlock High, which was not known for producing high-level college prospects, wasn’t enough to draw interest beyond a few Division II schools. What was the recruiters’ biggest hang up?

“When they looked at him,” Anthony’s father said of someone who now stands 5-foot-10 and weighs 225 pounds, “he wasn’t the guy they wanted.”

Enrolling at Modesto Junior College, Anthony quickly rose from fourth-stringer to featured tailback during the 2021 season, topping 100 yards rushing three times and leading all California junior college players with 17 rushing touchdowns.

It was enough to earn him a scholarship offer at Kansas State.

Kansas State running back Anthony Frias II catches the ball during a game against Tulane on Sept. 17, 2022, in Manhattan, Kan.

(Colin E Braley / Associated Press)

Buried on the depth chart, he redshirted during his first season with the Wildcats. The next season, playing mostly on special teams, Anthony rarely got more than a carry or two in any game. As confident as he was in his ability, it was impossible to keep out the doubt.

He forged ahead, bolstered by his religious faith and conversations with the father who also happened to be his therapist and best friend, telling him not to worry, that things would eventually pay off.

“You know, we talk it through, I’m there for him all the time,” the elder Frias said. “I’ve been there through the tears, I’ve been there through the needing to hold my son, through the questioning, ‘What more can I do, dad?’ But he never faltered, never quit.”

He did seek a new football home.

Kansas State running back Anthony Frias II carries the ball while running into the Central Florida defense on Sept. 23, 2023, in Manhattan, Kan.

(Travis Heying / Associated Press)

Before Kansas State played its bowl game at the end of the 2023 season, Frias entered the transfer portal. Then he waited. And waited. Months went by without a new offer to play elsewhere.

“Nobody was coming, nobody was calling, there was a moment where we were just like, ‘Man, what are we going to do?’” Anthony’s father said. “We just prayed and had faith, like it’s going to work out, don’t worry.”

Sure enough, the new coaching staff at Arizona, which had pursued Anthony when it was at San José State, offered a spot as a preferred walk-on. That meant Anthony was going to have to take out student loans and pay for his own apartment in Tucson.

About a week before he was scheduled to move in, Anthony received a call from Marcus Thomas, UCLA’s running backs coach. How would you like to become a Bruin? Anthony told him that he’d need to be more than a preferred walk-on because otherwise he was just going to go to Arizona.

Less than five minutes later, UCLA offensive coordinator Eric Bieniemy called. The team agreed to cover his tuition and living expenses through name, image and likeness funds, even though he wouldn’t be on scholarship.

Done.

When Anthony giddily walked into the Rose Bowl for the first time as a player, during a practice before the 2024 season opener, he FaceTimed his parents, even going over to the seat where he and his father had watched that Rose Bowl game.

“That,” Anthony said, “was like the first full-circle moment that I had.”

Anthony’s first season as a Bruin largely mirrored his final season as a Wildcat. There was a lot of special teams work and only a few carries before an expanded role in the season finale against Fresno State.

Entering what’s likely to be his final college season, the redshirt senior earned a scholarship but no guarantee of emerging from the shadows.

As usual, his father wore his son’s No. 22 jersey last weekend when he settled into his seat in the family section inside the Rose Bowl, never imagining the name on the back would be one of the most talked about inside the stadium.

When Anthony took a handoff early in the second quarter, cutting one way and then the other before breaking a tackle on the way to a 55-yard touchdown run, his every movement was accompanied by his father’s voice in the stands.

“I’m like, ‘Oh, oh dang, oh dang!’ ” the elder Frias said. “And then I stand up, like, ‘Oh!’ and I see that [defender] chase him and I’m like, ‘Come on, Ant, turn it up!’ and then he beats the guy out to score the touchdown and I just went crazy.”

With fellow running backs Anthony Woods and Jaivian Thomas later sidelined by injuries, Anthony Frias got a few more carries. His last one, on the game’s final offensive play, captured the essence of someone who refused to quit.

Running away from one defender who tried to grab him by the shoulders, he spun away from another before finally getting dragged down at the five-yard line to set up the winning field goal on the next play.

“Just all the pain, all the suffering, all the longing, all the workouts, all the late nights, all the no-love, no-opportunity, that run signified the release of that,” his father said. “And when he came out of there, he let out his roar. He was like, ‘I won’t be denied any more.’ ”

In one game and only four carries, Anthony had piled up 97 rushing yards — exceeding the 91 yards he had tallied in the three previous seasons combined.

“He made the most of the situation,” UCLA interim coach Tim Skipper said. “He made critical plays — I mean, we’re not just talking he got some first down or something, he made critical, impact, explosive plays that changed that game and for that to happen for him, it couldn’t have happened to a better person.”

Later, emerging from the tunnel leading to the same spot outside the Rose Bowl where he had held that sign over his head almost a decade earlier, Anthony flashed a smile that his father had never seen before when he reached a jubilant throng of family and friends.

“It just was all the years of the grinding and the behind-the-scenes stuff that I’ve been going through,” Anthony said, “and you know, getting opportunities here and there doing different things and showing that I could do more.”

Everyone shouting his name, waiting their turn for a hug, the only thing missing was a climactic score and rolling credits.

You know what his father would say about that.

Historians looking back at UCLA’s 2025 football season will peg the Penn State game as the Bruins’ first victory.

In ways both large and small, they will be wrong.

When Tim Skipper first took over the team a month ago, he placed a new opponent on the schedule: the locker room. The interim coach showed players pictures of how it should look, including the lockers and the surrounding floor.

They scrubbed the place and it’s been spotless ever since. Sort of like the Bruins’ play starting with that Penn State game.

“I think a clean locker room makes you a lot happier,” Skipper explained this week. “It shows team discipline and it shows you can win off the field, so now you can go ahead and get on the field.”

Skipper’s other primary motivational device — besides his highly transmissible energy — has been slogans. He started by telling his players to strain, to give everything they had in the pursuit of winning. After the Bruins beat Penn State, he asked players whether they were one-hit wonders. Now, his players having established they know what it takes to win following a smackdown of Michigan State, he’s asking them to maintain their approach.

At their Sunday meeting, the Bruins saw their new mantra — the standard is the standard — on a big screen.

“We have identified a style of play that we want to be, and it’s our job now to keep the standard the standard, you know, play with that fanatical effort, play with fundamentals, being smart, you know, all those things we just have to continue to do,” Skipper said. “But it’s not like something that’s just going to show up on Saturday. You have to practice about it. You have to work on it and not just talk about it.”

Can the Bruins keep it up after two consecutive victories? Here are five things to watch Saturday afternoon at the Rose Bowl when UCLA (2-4 overall, 2-1 Big Ten) faces Maryland (4-2, 1-2):

Looking out from his office at St. Francis High School, interim athletic director Todd Wolfson can see the St. Francis football field, the La Cañada football field and the Rose Bowl.

“I can sit in my office and see all in one,” he said.

He might want to create a lottery to sell off his view on Friday night, because St. Francis is hosting Muir, La Cañada is hosting Crescenta Valley and UCLA is playing New Mexico at the Rose Bowl.

The high school fields are separated by 300 feet. The schools share a driveway, which will become an Uber drop-off spot on Friday night.

St. Francis is planning to use nearby Flintridge Prep and St. Bede middle school for parking. La Cañada is planning to use its softball and baseball fields for extra parking.

“It’s going to be Carmageddon,” Wolfson said.

All four high school teams are local, so that should produce great attendance and a party atmosphere.

Wolfson advises, “Come early and watch warmups.”

Kickoff is 7 p.m. for all three games.

Expect traffic reporters on the radio to be busy.

If Wolfson didn’t have supervision duties, he’d probably be kicking back in his office drinking Perrier and enjoying the scene.

Noel Gallagher scanned the audience at the Rose Bowl on Saturday night and pointed down at a fan in the front row. “Young lady, what’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head to try to catch the answer. “I can’t really hear you, but this next song is for you.” As he spoke, a camera found a woman wearing an Oasis T-shirt openly weeping — openly sobbing — and sent her image to the giant video screens flanking the stage. “She’s been in tears all night, this girl,” Gallagher added, “which I hope is not a review of the f— gig.”

Not far from it, in fact: Since launching its reunion tour in early July, Oasis — the swaggering British rock band formed in the early 1990s by Gallagher on guitar and his younger brother Liam on lead vocals — has been traveling the world inspiring great outpourings of emotion wherever it goes. On social media, memes have proliferated equating the catharsis to be had at an Oasis concert to a form of therapy; more than one observer has suggested that gathering with tens of thousands of people to sing along with the Gallaghers’ songs might turn out to be the cure for the male loneliness epidemic.

Along with the blockbuster ticket sales and the pop-up merch stores, this nightly purification ritual has positioned Oasis Live ’25 — the band’s first run of shows in more than a decade and a half — as this year’s version of Taylor Swift’s Eras tour. Which of course some tour was destined to be: At a moment of encroaching technological alienation, humans are naturally searching out opportunities for real-world connection (which is one reason why thousands paid money last month to sit in a movie theater and watch Netflix’s “KPop Demon Hunters” for the second — or fifth, or 12th — time with other humans).

Oasis performs Saturday night at the Rose Bowl.

(Kevin Winter / Getty Images)

Yet I’m not sure I’d have called that it would be an old rock group with three guitarists that would get it done, never mind this old rock group in particular: The first of two dates at the Rose Bowl, Saturday’s sold-out show came 31 years after Oasis almost broke up for the first time following a chaotic 1994 gig at the Whisky a Go Go where the famously combative Gallaghers — having mistaken crystal meth for cocaine, as the story goes — nearly came to blows; Oasis’ long-promised breakup finally took in 2009, after which the brothers spent years trading savage insults in the press (and anywhere else they could do it).

How exactly Noel, now 58, and Liam, 52, managed to come back together hasn’t yet been told; one suspects that sufficiently humongous bags of cash had something to do with it. On the road, the Gallaghers are accompanied by Oasis’ original guitarist, Paul Arthurs (known delightfully as Bonehead), along with Gem Archer on guitar, Andy Bell on bass, Joey Waronker on drums and Christian Madden on keyboards. At the Rose Bowl, celebrities in attendance included Paul McCartney, Leonardo DiCaprio, Billie Eilish, Metallica’s James Hetfield, Laufey and MGK — a varied list of names that tells you something about the broad appeal of classic Oasis songs like “Wonderwall,” “Roll With It,” “Some Might Say,” “Champagne Supernova” and “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” the last of which was the tune Noel dedicated to the woman shedding tears of joy in the front row.

Liam Gallagher, left, and Noel Gallagher at the Rose Bowl.

(Kevin Winter / Getty Images)

The songs indeed were the thing on Saturday. Oasis sounded great, with those three guitars snarling and shimmering over sturdy grooves that mapped a middle ground among punk, glam and late-Beatles balladry; Liam’s voice was somehow both brawny and sweet as he reached for the high notes with a kind of taunting effortlessness. And the brothers engaged in a bit of lovable stage business, as when Liam — looking superb as always in his signature shades and anorak — balanced a tambourine on his head and offered gnomic shout-outs to Woody Woodpecker and to the sword swallowers in the audience.

But this was the least showy pop show I’ve seen in years; Oasis’ comeback is as much about the crowd as it is about the band — as much about the people singing along with the music as it is about the people making it. Song after song took the imperative mood: “Acquiesce,” “Bring It On Down,” “Fade Away,” “Stand By Me,” “Cast No Shadow,” “Slide Away” — each a command happily obeyed until the next one was issued forth, each abstract enough in its emotional specifics to satisfy whatever need it might meet. (“Someday you will find me / Caught beneath the landslide / In a Champagne supernova in the sky” still makes gloriously little sense.)

Because they’d done so much to bring the audience together, you couldn’t help by the end of the concert to long for a glimpse of a little brotherly love between the Gallaghers. They obliged during the finale, Liam circling Noel then clapping him on the back as the last chords of “Champagne Supernova” rang out and fireworks filled the sky with smoky light. It wasn’t much, and it was more than enough.

The most densely packed section inside the Rose Bowl on Saturday was filled with fans wearing the colors of the visiting team.

Swathed in red and white, they crammed into one corner of the century-old stadium for what amounted to a nightlong celebration.

Fans cheering for the home team were more subdued and scattered throughout a stadium that seemed about one-third full, outnumbered by empty seats, visiting fans and those massive blue-and-gold tarps covering most of each end zone. Deliberately or not, Fox cameras inside the stadium showed those watching from home only wide shots filled with graphics that obscured the paltry crowd.

By late in the third quarter, the only suspense remaining in UCLA’s 43-10 blowout loss to Utah was waiting for the announced attendance. Reporters in the press box were given a figure of 35,032, which seemed inflated given so many empty seats below them.

It was.

The scan count, a tally of people actually inside the facility, was 27,785, according to athletic officials.

Creative accounting is the norm in college football given there are no standardized practices for attendance reporting. The Big Ten and other conferences leave it up to individual schools to devise their own formulas.

UCLA defines its announced attendance as tickets distributed — including freebies — plus non-ticketed and credentialed individuals such as players, coaches, staff, vendors, cheerleaders, band members, performers and even media. Across town, USC’s announced attendance includes only tickets distributed, according to an athletic department spokesperson, which was 62,841 for the season opener against Missouri State.

In recent seasons, UCLA’s announced attendance was sometimes more than double the scan count, according to figures obtained by The Times through a public records request.

For UCLA’s home opener against Bowling Green on a sweltering September day in 2022, the announced attendance was 27,143, a record low for the team since moving to the Rose Bowl before the 1982 season.

The actual attendance was much lower. UCLA’s scan count, which represented people who entered the stadium (including the aforementioned non-ticketed and credentialed individuals) was 12,383 — 14,760 fewer than the announced attendance. The scan count for the next game, against Alabama State, was just a smidgen higher at 14,093.

Those longing for an on-campus stadium could quip that UCLA might as well hold some games at Drake Stadium given the track facility holds 11,700 and could probably accommodate several thousand more with temporary bleachers placed opposite the permanent grandstands.

Empty seats aren’t just a game day buzzkill given their correlation to lost revenue.

“Since we are now in the era of NIL and revenue sharing, where cash is king,” said David Carter, an adjunct professor of sports business at USC, “every school hoping to play competitive big-time football needs to generate as much revenue and excitement around its program as possible. But since empty seats don’t buy beer or foam fingers, let alone merchandise and parking, any and all other forms of revenue are needed to offset these chronic game day losses in revenue.”

Declining revenue is especially troublesome at a school whose athletic department has run in the red for six consecutive fiscal years. The Bruins brought in $11.6 million in football ticket revenue during the most recent fiscal year, down nearly half from the $20 million they generated in 2014 when the team averaged a record 76,650 fans at the Rose Bowl under coach Jim Mora. But one athletic official said the school in 2025 could come close to matching the $5.5 million it generated in season ticket revenue a year ago.

Low attendance is a deepening concern. UCLA’s five worst home season-attendance figures since moving to the Rose Bowl in 1982 have come over the last five seasons not interrupted by COVID-19, including 46,805 last season. That figure ranked 16th among the 18 Big Ten Conference teams, ahead of only Maryland and Northwestern, which was playing at a temporary lakeside stadium seating just 12,023.

Recent attendance numbers remind some longtime observers of the small crowds for UCLA games in the late 1970s at the Coliseum, which was part of the reason for the team’s move to Pasadena. During their final decade of calling the Coliseum home, the Bruins topped 50,000 fans only six times for games not involving rival USC.

“Now, disappointingly, it would appear that the same attendance challenges that UCLA football faced at the Coliseum in the 1970s are repeating themselves at the Rose Bowl,” said John Sandbrook, a former UCLA assistant chancellor under chancellor Chuck Young and one of the primary power brokers in the school’s switch to the Rose Bowl.

Attendance woes are hardly confined to UCLA. Sixty-one of 134 Football Bowl Subdivision teams experienced a year-over-year decline in attendance last season, according to D1ticker.com.

UCLA faces several unique challenges, particularly early each season. Its stadium resides 26 miles from campus and students don’t start classes until late September. Other explanations for low turnouts have included late start times such as the 8 p.m. kickoff against Utah, lackluster nonconference opponents and triple-digit heat for some September games.

Quarterback Nico Iamaleava said he appreciated those who did show up Saturday, including a throng of friends and family from his hometown Long Beach.

“Fan base came out and showed their support, man,” Iamaleava said. “You know, it felt great going out there and playing in front of them. Obviously, we got to do our part and, you know, get them a win and make them enjoy the game.”

On some occasions, UCLA’s attendance figures have closely reflected the number of people in the stadium, including high-interest games such as Colorado coach Deion Sanders’ appearance in 2023. For that game, the announced attendance (71,343) only slightly exceeded the scan count (68,615).

The rivalry game also gets fans to show up. The announced attendance of 59,473 last season for USC’s 19-13 victory at the Rose Bowl wasn’t far off from the scan count of 51,588.

See all those empty seats? There were fewer than 13,000 fans in attendance to see quarterback Dorian Thompson-Robinson, right, and wide receiver Titus Mokiao-Atimalala celebrate a touchdown against Bowling Green in 2022.

(Mark J. Terrill / Associated Press)

Still, as traditions go, creative accounting might predate the eight-clap. Similar to fudging practices known to be widespread at other schools, UCLA officials have been known to embellish attendance figures, sometimes rounding far enough past the next thousand not to strain credulity, according to two people familiar with operations who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the matter.

Additionally, according to a former university administrator who observed the practice, a member of the athletic department staff would show a slip of paper with a suggested attendance figure for basketball games at Pauley Pavilion in the 1960s and 1970s to athletic director J.D. Morgan, who would either nod or take a pen and change the number to one more to his liking. That practice continued under subsequent athletic director Peter Dalis, the administrator said.

While declining to comment for this story, current athletic administrators have acknowledged the challenge of drawing fans in an increasingly crowded sports landscape that now includes two local NFL teams. Among other ventures, UCLA has created a new fan zone outside the stadium that can be enjoyed without purchasing a ticket and will hold a concert on the north side of the stadium the day of the Penn State game early next month.

While there’s no promotion like winning, as the saying goes, there also may be no salvaging the situation for the Bruins’ next home game. UCLA will face New Mexico on Sept. 12 for a Friday evening kickoff that will force fans to fight weekday traffic to see their favorite team face an opponent from the Mountain West Conference.

Brave souls who look around and hear the announced attendance might experience inflation on the rise once more.

Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, Marlee Matlin always looked forward to Sundays.

It was her father’s only day off, so her family made a weekly tradition of meeting up with close friends for breakfast at a local deli. Afterward, she and her family of five would do a season-friendly activity — apple picking in the fall or a Chicago Cubs game during the summer, perhaps — before wrapping up with a finale event they called “takeout Sundays.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

“Sundays were always my favorite day because I knew that we’d all be together,” says Matlin, who became the first deaf actor to win an Oscar in 1987 at the tender age of 21. During our Zoom call, she communicated via an interpreter.

Throughout her career, the “Coda” star has been vocal about her battles with addiction and sexual abuse, but fans are getting an even more intimate look into her life via her latest project, “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore,” which is showing in select theaters nationwide and will be available on demand on August 22. When she was approached to do a documentary, Matlin says it was a no-brainer for her to have her longtime friend and fellow deaf actor, Shoshannah Stern, direct it.

“What better way to have two deaf women who have similar shared life experiences to tell my story?” Matlin says. In the 1980s, she convinced lawmakers to add closed captioning to television programming.

The veteran actor and activist has been a self proclaimed “California girl” for nearly 40 years, but says that she will always be a “Chicago girl at heart.” (The skyline of the neighborhood she grew up in, Morton Grove, is proudly tattooed on her forearm.) These days, she’s enjoying empty-nester life with her husband Kevin Grandalski. Her ideal Sunday in L.A. involves visiting the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures, getting her steps in at the Rose Bowl, having a slice of pizza in Eagle Rock and spending quality time with her 14-month-old granddaughter.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

6 a.m.: Take care of my pets

If I had the choice, I would probably wake up at 8 a.m., but because I have a cat, it’s 6 a.m. I also have a dog who needs to be taken out on a walk. Like a fool, he barks at every other dog that we encounter, and I have apologize to each dog owner.

Then I have to have to have breakfast. I’m a breakfast person. I don’t skip it. I love my oatmeal with a little bit of brown sugar and blueberries. If I’m in the mood, I’ll make some turkey bacon and make sure it’s extra crispy, and I drink my Red Bull sugar free. I know I’m going to get a lot of flack because I drink a Red Bull in the morning, but that’s what I drink. I like my drink, and it’s as simple as that. I don’t drink coffee. I wish I did, but I don’t like the taste.

After I’ve gotten breakfast out of the way, I have to make my bed. I can’t even leave the house with an unmade bed. I have to make the bed immediately, and my husband knows that very well.

10 a.m.: Go shopping for new threads

I might go to Rose Bowl either for the flea market, which is open once a month, or for a walk. Before I had foot surgery, I would always go and walk around the Rose Bowl at least twice for a total of six miles. I love power walking.

Afterward, I would go to a couple of boutiques that I like. I’m a big supporter of small local businesses, so I would stop by Tuck in Pasadena and Everson Clare in La Cañada Flintridge. They are both female-owned, and they care about their customers a great deal. Both of them are very good friends of mine. They both work so hard to get their stores opened. I watched them from their inception to where they are today. They have different clothing styles that seem to fit me well. Then there are some stores that I’ll go to in Studio City. You can find me at Sephora, Nordstrom or HomeGoods.

2 p.m.: Pick a favorite L.A. activity

If we’re in the mood to be active, we’ll go to Descanso Gardens or to a Dodgers game. We recently went to Shot of Art, and it’s so fun. It’s similar to paintball. You create art on a canvas as it spins. I just got reelected as the governor of the Academy Museum, so I’ll make sure to go there. Being governor and a member of the Academy, they have been nothing but so supportive of my community and many other underrepresented communities as well. Everyone who has a love for film or history [and] how films are made should go to the museum. Even if you [do] not, you’ll be surprised.

4 p.m.: Quality time with my granddaughter

Then I’ll come back home to spend time with my granddaughter, who is 14 months old. We’ll have playtime at the house. She’s always exploring. She loves the cat. She runs after her, and I’m always the one having to run after the baby. So there’s the three of us running around: cat, baby, then me. I’ll take her to the park, which is down the street. Just being with her is the most important thing. We are just in awe of watching her grow, exploring the world and watching what she learns. That’s the perfect Sunday for me.

6 p.m.: Enjoy an early dinner

I love to cook on Sundays and have an early dinner. I have a whole raft of cookbooks and recipes that I’ve printed out. I’ll just take that big stack and search through it. I’m not somebody who does a whole lot of research. I just pick one and then go for it. I love to barbecue, and I love to bake desserts. I have a sweet tooth. I set up a candy bar — like a bar for candy — in my house. It’s dangerous to have a candy bar. Wait until my granddaughter grows old enough to realize what the candy bar is actually about.

But if I don’t feel like cooking, we might go to Casa Bianca. It’s a pizza shop in Eagle Rock. The pizzas, the mozarella sticks and the salads are fantastic. The chicken piccata is great, and the people who own it are just wonderful people and so welcoming.

8 p.m.: Backgammon before bed

I’ll spend time with my husband after dinner, and we’ll clean up. Then I’d check my phone to see what’s coming up for the week. Depending on what’s going on, I’ll get in touch with the kids and play backgammon on my phone — just spend time winding the day down. And I’ll take an evening walk. Before I close shop, I have to take the dog out once more. I go to bed early. I’m usually in bed by 9:30 p.m.