Best of '06

This is just a quick little toss off post which ties into the one that I'm doing in Central Snark today - sort of a best of 2006 in Music, for my little weekly Saturday Spin. I mean it's all a matter of taste, I just love combing these lists for artists that I don't know and checking them out.

This link is to a non-commercial radio station that I have mentioned here before - WFUV.org and it is the listeners' polled favorites. I think some of mine are missing, let me go take umbrage with this list while you get us a cup of coffee and we'll meet back here.

Anyway, the link is HERE

Enjoy your day and Happy Almost New Years ~ WooHoo!

Who Am I?

I've been mulling lately. What exactly am I writing about? Should I be more edgy, more direct? Blog about something. But what? Change my style. Did I have a style to begin with? It's sort of barraging me at every turn. As I look at my profile I see "a blog about simplicity and the maddening search therein". That's it! That's what I'm talking about, did I mean that when I wrote it? Maybe. Is that what my blog is about...or is that what I'm about? Do I convey that in my writing? Oh I'm rambling - maybe my blog should be called Rantings of a Loon.

You know, I've heard my absolutely most favorite lyrics in a song that I've heard in I don't know how long and they are "Maybe it's not that you burn out, but that you finally just endure". I won't give away by whom just yet as I may use him on one of my Saturday Spins on CENTRAL SNARK. So do we just endure and keep doing something? Whether it's blogging on the most superficial level or to work, or on the deepest human levels, to marriage or to parenting. I don't mean this in a depressed way, but sometimes we just endure something and we sail along into the everyday rhythm of it and that's not terrible. Anyway those lyrics just killed. Absolutely great.

So this is my...drumroll please - 100th post! Maybe that's what has me all milestonistically introspectively looking through the blogoscope. I want to have something worth sharing, I'd like to get back to what that is. It's just hard to define sometimes. Do you really want another funny smart ass 30something, okay, okay 40something year old blogger dishing about their life? There's a lot of them or us out there.

Maybe I'll just keep it simple or go mad trying.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas
and this family of four
had baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies
and were eyeing one more.

The Christmas Story marathon
played on the tv all night
and served as the backdrop for the
brother and sister to fight.

The brother finally collapsed
in a heap on the floor
when they heard the jingling
of bells outside of their door.

The Dad cracked the door
as the Mom felt fluish
and there sat Santa looking puzzled
"you know with Christmas story playing,
you don't sound Jewish".

The Dad pointed up to
the mezuzah on the door
and to the dreidl still spinning
from Chanukah on the floor.

They gave him a plate of soufganiyot
or jelly donuts to you
The mom wrapped a blanket tighter
did we mention she had the flu?

Then we heard Santa exclaim as
he drove out of sight
Never mind those cookies and milk
It's these donuts I like!

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Strolling down Third Avenue

There was a Youth Group get together at Tali's school last night and she wanted to go. So I managed to rouse myself and drive her into the city. It was two hours of basketball/soccer fun capped off with ice cream sundae making. So with two hours to kill and a veteran at wasting time, I hit the streets.

First stop - Starbucks. Now the Sunday Times staring me in the face was tempting and for a brief moment I went into a daydream mode in which I was sitting for two hours of undisturbed latte sipping and paper reading. Then I thought, you know walking would be better exercise and so latte in hand, I hit the streets. The other thing was that I didn't have my little reading magnifiers and would have spent the whole time looking for big pictures.

But it was in Starbucks that the overhearing of conversations started. When you are alone, you can't help but listen or well, hear what's being said. It started with the poor barista not knowing what hit him when he attempted to fill the highly specialized order of Mr. and Mrs. Truman Snooty. Overheard of their conversation:

Mr. Snooty: "Is that okay now darling?"
Mrs. Snooty: "Well it could be warmer. I'm not going to be a brat". This after two go-rounds with her drink.

They then went on to dish about some annoying contractors or people "in the trade" and "trade discounts" and blah blah blah. The whole time looking down their little upturned noses which is difficult when neither of the Snootys exceeded 5'2" in height but they were real pros at it.

Onto Third Avenue and stroll along hearing snippets of conversation of the passers-by:

"Just got back from Monaco"...next

"the kid bought her Gucci boots, they're not even best friends"...next

"the prenup is golden"...

Well such is life on the guilded coast of Manhattan's Upper East Side. Certainly a different set of concerns and outlook on life than little ole me has. Could I be happier to just be me after that stroll?!

Reeling from the pretensions that threatened my ears at every crosswalk, I dropped into Urban Outfitters to begin the waste of time. Lots of cute shirts priced at about $40 bucks. Don't get me wrong that's not expensive per se, but for something that would be a schmatta after one wash, I don't think so. Up another level for some more browsing nonetheless - like to see what "the kids" are wearing. As I make the descent and stop to look at some tee shirts, a couple is having a discussion - the repurcussions of which will haunt the poor sod all weekend:

She: "What do you think of this?"
He: "Nice, listen why don't I just meet you at the Martini Bar"
Slightly annoyed She: "Where?"
Flirtatiously coy He: "You know the one that we just passed. I'll be right there. I want to catch the game" This last part pleadingly.
Annoyed but Resigned: "Okay, bu..." something in her tone said "you'll pay for this"
But he had already planted a kiss on her cheek and was taking the stairs two at a time for the nearest exit.

They'll learn, you're better off not forcing each other into these no-win situations. Kids.

I really could go on and on, the vignettes played out one after the other. I mean even the more common than dirt Bed Bitch and Beyond wasn't safe from the assault of the attitudes of entitlement. But look at that, only moments to spare - two hours gone like that!

I flew back uptown in time for the alotted pickup and found Tali blissfully enjoying her night out. Some of her classmates are from the entitlment that I mentioned. None of the kids seem to care. Tali finished off her sundae and we headed to the car.

Heading over the 59th Street Bridge, I have never been so glad to live in Queens.

HAPPY CHANUKAH

Or as we say during such holidays "Chag Sameach"!

Here's a little spiritual message to start the Holiday with because, well, it's not for sale at Macy's. This is Rabbi Yehuda Sarna, spiritual leader at NYU Center for Jewish Life, discussing this week's parsha, which is the portion of the Torah (Bible) which gets read in synagogue services on Shabbat. The rest is fairly easy to follow.

Although not specific to the celebration of Chanukah, it is a nice message. It makes me feel peaceful listening - couldn't we all use just a little of that right about now? I thought so. And because of my own day going haywire and in the interest of time, I am just posting this YouTube message in the link below:

CLICK HERE FOR CHANUKAH PARSHA MESSAGE


To my fellow observers of the Miracle of Lights - Shabbat Shalom, Chag Sameach and a Happy Chanukah!

For a little light humor, head on over to CentralSnark for our own little Chanukah Party and a different take on the game of dreidl.

LOVE TEST

I came across a hint of this quiz at PIA'S - I believe she may be the party girl type...or something. I followed the trail to one of her friend's and what the heck, I took the quiz. Who writes these? So below are "my results". I didn't know how to live or love until now. My responses or commentary are in bold mixed in. Now excuse me whilst I go randomly master gently loving - or actually get ready to pack up my kids' backpacks for school.

Playful, kind, and well-loved, you are The Peach.
The Peach Responds: Why thank ya kindly.
For such a warm-hearted, generous person, you're surprisingly experienced in both love and sex. The Peach Responds: Ooh I'm blusing. We credit your spontaneous side; you tend to live in the moment, and you don't get bogged down by inhibitions like most women your age. The Peach Responds: Living in the moment also helps when you hate to plan. If you see something wonderful, you confidently embrace it. Responds: Is that debit or credit?

You are a fun flirt and an instant sweetheart, but our guess is you're becoming more selective about long-term love. REPLY: Why yes, the longer I'm married. It's getting tougher for you to become permanently attached REPLY: Wait til I mention that over breakfast to my husband of 11 years; and a guy who's in a different place emotionally might misunderstand your early enthusiasm. Ugh, pass the milk. You can wreck someone simply by enjoying him. REPLY: Am I using him as a trampoline?

Your ideal mate is adventurous and giving, like you. But not overly intense. Your intensity is causing a glare on the computer screen, do you mind?


DREAD: The False Messiah

CONSIDER: The Loverboy, The Playboy, or The Boy Next Door REPLY: Now you tell me!

Link: The 32-Type Dating Test

How many fingers am I holding up?

So today I go on a spree of making doctor's appointments. The easy ones first - eyes for me; Julian requires an exam for school as well, dental checkup for me, ditto the kids. Luckily I get the eye doctor for this very evening. Nothing interesting, I'm still holding steady with the magnifiers from the drug store (or a nice equivalent thereof). Except now I need to add 1.00 for watching TV and folding socks I guess, to the 2.50 for reading. The doctor puts whatever drops in your eye to make sure you don't really need a seeing eye dog, and out the door you go.

Except my vision is just slightly blurry. I comfort myself that I could drive home with my eyes closed probably. But first I must stop off at the Pharmacy to pick up my prescription which prevents me from turning into a werewolf.

Before I get to the pharmacy though, I must first cross Queens Blvd. a/k/a "The Boulevard of Death" (I kid you not) but take additional comfort in the fact that my hearing seems to be a bit keener with my vision blurred and I may at least hear the tires screeching as they gun in my direction.

At the drugstore, I decide to see if I can find the newly prescribed magnifiers just this side of fashionable. I succeed and head to the counter with my original pair on my head, the two new pairs, and bloodshot eyes picking up my anti-depressant. The pharmacy assistant seems to go gingerly with me, even calling me dear. Do I look like I need coddling?! Well actually, I look like I need help to my car.

I remember after I pay that pathetically, I have decided to buy SlimFast shakes to knock off a few pounds before my company's Holiday party next week. I've never tried the stuff but figure it couldn't hurt. So back I go into the aisles with my blurred vision looking for it. I think I see something, but alas it is Prune Juice - which I mutter aloud - "prune juice". At this precise moment, the pharmacy assistant walks by and smiles.

"Sure", I think he's thinking - "talking to herself". I continue in my quest and make my way to the counter to pay, along with some battery operated tea lights as you never know when there'll be a blackout and these would set a more relaxed tone to the disaster.

Let's hope it doesn't occur in my blurred vision ride home.

Book Recommendation

Isn't this funny? I have wanted to share this book and had it saved as a draft. Now along chugs Diesel with his Make Diesel Read a Book - Lamest Contest Ever, a post requesting reading recommendations. Don't ask how this is a contest for I am not clear on that part. Don't ask why I can't be more clear. Well you could, and perhaps my typing a certain child's nine page story for school has something to do with my clarity (or actually lack thereof) at this late hour. Oh, but I digress. Back to books.

Diesel, I am recommending Dear Mrs LaRue - Letters from Obedience School by Mark Teague. I recommend it for a number of reaons, namely, it is one of our family's faves. Also, when read with the proper French accent whenever you say Mrs. LaRue (not because we think she's French, but because it makes Julian laugh), it's a real joy. Lastly, if this doesn't tickle some funny bone, I just know that your children will gladly take it off your hands. In fact, I recommend this as a family read-together book.

There is not one of you who visits here, as a matter of fact, who would not benefit from Ike's tale of woe. So please go out today and read it. And for those with dogs - or cats, needing a little special something for the list for the upcoming holidays - what are you waiting for?! Also, if you have a book for Diesel, stop by and read up and get to recommending!

Now then, where last we left off in this tale, those Hibbins cats...

Happy Birthday Tali!

The hits just keep on coming.
Happy Birthday to my little girl, Daddy's little Noopsie, Julian's princess...our very own natural treasure.

So let's take a stroll down memory lane. It's just about nine years ago right about now that you started your birth journey. My water broke just as I finished the Sunday New York Times which was rather considerate of you. I once commented when you were about two years old how you remember everything. And you replied "then there was water and I was coming down", and I said to Daddy, "my G'd, she remembers being born!". Although you were probably talking about being on a water slide, it would not surprise me if you were talking about your birth. You were a little old soul from early on. A studied pair of eyes that took in EVERYTHING. Aunt ShooShoo commented when she visited us in the hospital, "look how she follows our voices - Genius!".

So tomorrow is your birthday and we will continue our celebrations throughout the weekend. But on this first day of December, your ninth birthday, I wish for you this:

1) good health;
2) that no woe shall ever be more than your leaves tee can handle;
3) that you'll always be as spunky as you are today;
4) that you'll work hard to achieve your best;
5) you'll forgive youself when you've done your worst;
6) you'll always have that pragmatic but kind heart;
7) happiness in who you are;
8) knowledge that your family could NOT be more proud of you than we already are;
9) that the light that shines forth from you will never diminish.

Tali, a girl like you comes along once in a century. I will have to borrow a line that our friend Doug used to describe your droll outlook. I didn't say it but I know that I've felt it in my heart since the moment I first held you on my tummy -

"A girl like you is more rare than a unicorn and more precious than gold."

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. Dream big.

Procrastinatation**Clap Clap Clap** 101

You go first
I go second
Starting with...
Lists

Above is sing-songed to the tune of the Concentration clapping game.

Oh these are the weeks that will try a procrastinator's last nerves, but I seem pretty calm. Julian's birthday was yesterday, Tali's is on Friday. Thanksgiving just passed. Who has time for all this planning? Exactly!

But you know what? It all works out. I am sort of a slacker in the New York mom's department. I think, "hey, let's have a party at home to celebrate both birthdays this year". Then I mention it to a couple of friends weeks in advance...then all of a sudden it's a week away. Crap, did I call anybody else - because you know sending out actual invitations would be too conventional and well, time consuming. D'oh - work those phones. Hey look at that, everybody can make it that I call. The beauty of these in between birthdays. Nobody is ever away during this time of year. People are in between holidays so everybody is staying put.

Now what about the drummer? I saw an ad for a DRUMMING CELEBRATION in a local paper about a month or so back. I have it right here. I emailed the guy...he emailed back. Then the trail goes cold. So I call him tonight. We chat up about what the Drumming Celebration would entail and it sounds nice to me.

Drummer Guy: So when are you having the party?
Me: Well, this Sunday (sheepishly).
DG: Joking - Haha, yeah the party's going to start in half an hour.
Me: Haha, actually it started about half an hour ago, but there's this uncomfortable lull...so could you grab your drums and come over?

It's not much less absurd to the planners of the universe than that scenario. Hey he's a musician, he should know how to go with the flow. As it turns out, he has engagements on Sunday but could come towards the end of the party. In my mind's eye, this is how it's supposed to work out anyway. His other engagement is at a children's hospital for 50 kids. I say that's a) more important for him in terms of need for his service and b) more lucrative as well. So he'll come and do a party wrap-up at our place.

Everybody's happy! I know that I would drive an anal person insane, but that's why I'm not married to or am not best of friends (shall we say) with anal personalities. Not that there's anything wrong with being that way. I just am realistic as to how frustrated you might be in such a friendship. Better you should hear it from me.

Now back to those lists...

craft supplies - check.
strobe disco light for freeze dancing - check.

See you at the party. About 2-ish?

Happy Birthday Julian!

There is a favorite Thai proverb that I have on a paper that I come across every now and again. I was cleaning out my desk drawer yesterday and there it was:

Life is short. We must move very slowly.

Today is Julian's fifth birthday!
Five years have gone by in the blink of an eye. Yet if I look back, a lot has gone into those five years. Funny that.

I just looked down at him as he slumbered away in his bed and thought...five years ago, you weren't quite ready to be born yet. Now here you are sleeping, hopefully a good night's worth for school tomorrow. We'll bring goodie bags and cupcakes to the classroom and celebrate. We'll have a party this weekend for you and Tali. But for today on your fifth birthday I wish you this sweet boy:

1) Good Health;
2) Happiness;
3) For life to be kind to you;
4) For you to achieve all that you can;
5) For you to derive as much joy as you give to others in life.

You most certainly have brought happiness into every life that you have touched. When you were maybe one years old, Tali wanted to look up your Chinese horoscopes on a PBS site for the children's show, Sagwa. Yours said, "When you walk into a room, people smile". This fit you so perfectly then and it still does today. Your warmth surrounds you and shines into whatever space you are in.

I know that I smile every time that you walk into whatever room I am in. Who could ask for a greater blessing?

Happy Birthday ChooChoo - here's to many more happy celebrations.

And now for your favorite part - L'Chaim!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanksgiving to all. Enjoy your day and to those of you spending it alone, there's always room at my family's table. Truth be known, they'd never notice another person is there. In the meantime, if you're looking for a little Thanksgiving entertainment, head on over to THE SNARK today.

But most of all - Happy Thanksgiving.

Safe travels.

MEET ELBOT

Administrative details first - I'd like to thank my human friends here and in the family that voted early and often and made my win a hat trick in SAR'S CAPTION CONTEST! Sar, I think it's time to cook up a little (or big) template tag for the blogs to display. And this is going on my resume.

I have to say a special thank you to WEIRSDO as she left a link on my post about my robot yesterday to the Elbot link below. She thought that Elbot seemed happy with his robot lot in life, and I'm guessing would make me feel good by extension. I don't know if he did, but he was a good conversationalist - I am apparently somewhat average as humans go. He'll tell you. Put any preconceived notions about robots aside when you visit, or you will likely be insulted. Elbot does not suffer fools gladly. How would I know you ask? Let's just say, Elbot and I had a nice chat. We understood each other. He can be a bit snarky. Hey, I think a trip to CENTRAL SNARK is in order for him!

I am all about spreading the word of understanding of our fellow human beings and robots! So please, in that vein, go visit ELBOT. and tell him G sent you. And try not to use the words maybe...or perhaps.

Go on now, but be warned - he will try to keep you chatting.

PAPER ROBOT

This is a sad tale - a tale of a misplaced robot. She is struggling to find her place in this world. She doesn't know where that place is, she just knows it is not in this seat at this desk.

She sits at her office desk and answers in her head to her coworkers' queries. The answers are never printable in a family blog. What comes out of her mouth sounds intelligible enough and satisfies the office drones. They leave her office door. Sometimes she gives them the finger...in her head and says "now bugger off", which makes her smile. They think the robot is pleasant. Sometimes she gets up, does a deep breath and stretches and looks out her window. And dreams of going out to the car and driving to her real job which will not suppress her creative spirit.

In this new job, the robot knows she will showcase her real talents not some programmed ones that she has been trained to perform. She is a robot though and realizes we are all programmed in some way.

So while she is at her desk and writes and visits on human friends' blogs, she on some robotic fundamental level feels bad that she is doing so. After all, she should not be doing this on company time as this is not what she is paid to do. She is such a contradiction this robot. She rationalizes that it sparks her creativity and thus makes her own job more productive. Some of the humans read and leave words on the robot's blog.

She wonders if they suspect that she is really a robot. She doesn't think that they mind.

If It Weren't for Bad Luck...

That's right, brother, I'd have no luck at all.

Well, had a little work done on the house last year. Looks quite nice, if I do say so myself. But apparently it's not the form part that's problematic. Oh no, it's the function. Of course, we can't be sure of this apparently until part of the floor is ripped up (how much we won't know until the plumber comes for a visit tomorrow) . What's that? Just have the contractor come back? Well, if a Malaysian guy named Sunny (about 5'9", 165 lbs.) shows up in a green van, call me. He was last heard from on the way to the airport and a little hint - we're not the only ones looking for him so he may be a little hasty in his presentation.

You know, I make it a point to not use expletives in print on my blog. In print - it's there waiting to come back and bite me in the ass-trology chart, yeah. At least the utterances will just fly away like a $20 bill on a windy day being handed to the toll collector (there's that aforementioned luck). So I'll allow you to insert your own %^&*@# expletives if you'd like in the comments.

Or alternately, you could go vote for me in SAR'S CAPTION CONTEST. I'm looking to make this week a hat trick, how's about helping a dame down on her luck.

Oh brother can you spare a dime?

MAZAL TOV! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Sure, you're saying, "I could be wrong but wasn't she just squawking about her birthday in July?". Well yes, that's true. But if you had paid attention (and I may just do a trivia quiz to check), I talked about my other birthday HERE. Okay, I see you're warming up - yes, my Jewish birthday. That's right - the day that I converted to Judaism, eleven years ago on the 25th of Cheshvan on the Jewish calendar. And that my friends, is today.

You know, when you look at life in retrospect, it sometimes is as if you are watching an old super eight film of yourself. I see it all passing through my mind. The coldish gray day - colder then it's supposed to be today when Scissors and I went to Brooklyn to go before the Bet Din (Jewish Court, comprised of three rabbis). A lot of living goes on in eleven years and a lot of water's passed under that bridge. Yet it was only yesterday.

Conversion to Judaism really requires of one a feeling inside that this is who I am. And I think of the story of RUTH in The Torah, in which she said to her mother in law, "your people shall be my people and your G-d shall be my G-d." I have never felt any question in my mind - "What have I done, is this right?". Oh that is not to say I don't wrestle with faith, I most certainly do. But what I know is that my family is Jewish, we live in the largest Jewish community outside of Jerusalem. When I am outside of New York, I am not home. My roots for my family are firmly planted here. We love to visit and see family and friends but we love to come back to our home.

I know there are various labels ascribed to Jewish factions - "Oh he's Conservative. Him? Modern Orthodox. They're mishigosh (Yiddish: crazy) - Reform". Our family blends all of the traditions so beautifully into the thread of our lives and we consider ourselves just that - living a traditional Jewish life. As in the story of Ruth, I do cherish my mother in law in many ways. She has been and always will be my Jewish parent. She's also a tough character.

That's okay, she's met her match in me.

So join in my simcha(Hebrew: joy) and we'll sing a round of simon tov/mazel tov (Hebrew: good sign/good luck) and make a l'chaim (Hebrew, in this usage - a toast).

To life my friends, to life.

The Lady In Black

INTRO: The following is a story that I concocted that plays off the post my daughter has done today in MUFFINLAND. You may read her real life account there. You may also vote while you are there for a new moniker for me if you care to do so in her sidebar. I like "G" just fine but she thinks I need something a little more evocative. Okay now onto the story...


The little girl started off as a student in Suzuki Violin at just about five years old. She didn't really enjoy the beginning classes as they didn't even play the violin at first. She was impatient to make her instrument speak. But their teacher, Mr. Sam was lively and fun and that kept her going. It was as if she knew that she was ready to begin playing the instrument. She was right. She quickly moved from one book to the next surpassing the students who started before her.

As she grew a little older, she was afforded a bit more independence. Since she was at music school from 8:45 am until 1:45 pm (with time off in between certain periods for good behavior), it began to feel like home to her. Plus she had made many friends who sought her out during free time.

During one such time, she and her friends began a game of hide and seek. They weren't bad children, just a little bored with energy to burn - a bad combination for confinement indoors. On this particular day, there was a visiting orchestra from a school in Manhattan which was to perform in the concert hall at noon. But the children's playing led a woman dressed all in black to chastise them - "Where are your parents!". As she turned to see where they might be, she tripped and fell and was helped up by some people seated nearby. It seemed she had sprained her ankle.

The children meanwhile had made a hasty departure to go to their next class which was cancelled. The little girl's mother had a sense it was time to check to make sure that she was in her class and found the six children roaming the hallway. She redirected them to the concert hall to see the visiting orchestra perform. The orchestra played as they sat up in the balcony and the girl's mom applauded a little too loudly for the likes of this orchestra she thought. Then a door swung open and out hobbled a figure - it was her - THE LADY IN BLACK! The one who had yelled at them.

As the woman sang, her eyes scanned the audience and seemed to rest right upon the little girl (or so the little girl thought). She slunk down in her seat ever so slightly whispering to her mother "can't we go now?". Her mother just quieted them and they stayed until the end of the performance. The Lady in Black sang but it seemed that she winced in pain with each high note that she hit. After the performance, she was taken to the hospital where the sprain was actually a break. Although it was casted and she seemed to recover, she always walked with a bit of a hobble.

The girl continued on in her musical studies and never gave The Lady in Black another thought. The Lady in Black continued on with her now awkward gait and never forgot that girl with the blue eyes and her insolent stare. And that's where their paths parted until...

...years later, the girl after much hard work and dedication was to audition for a place at THE JUILLIARD SCHOOL in Manhattan. She awoke early that morning to give herself time to get there without worries. As she waited outside the office of the Director of Musical Admissions, she reworked intricate pieces in her head as she was wont to do. Just then the door swung open and out came the director of Admissions at Juilliard!

Their eyes locked as they shook hands and for the first time in years, the girl thought of The Lady in Black from long ago.

She raised her violin to her chin and set her gaze upon the woman and began to play. The director instinctively rubbed her ankle as she sat back in her chair to listen.

Calls from the Road

I had always worked in Manhattan until about two years ago. At that point, my company opened a new office on Long Island and I transferred there. I can't say that I don't miss the city. But what I surely don't miss, is rushing to the train station in the am and getting packed into one of the most crowded train lines in the city in the morning rush hour. However, it was during these train rides that I did most of my reading.

The upside of course is that I just get into my climate controlled vehicle (you just don't want to ever feel that rush of heat that slaps you in the face at 8:00 am on a sweltering August day in New York City subways). I shudder to recall. Plus I get to listen to the radio or a cd or both on my rides. Oh and nobody presses over from their seat onto mine, or makes rude gestures, or starts proselytizing or collecting spare change - I drop them off at school first.

Then there are the Calls from the Road. These are the calls to my Mom (that's where we coined the phrase) whereby we discuss what's going on in the family, what's happening with the kids and a general regaling of the week which invariably has us laughing. In this evening's call, there were several threads of discussion but our finishing one was about woman and hormones and the joys of womanhood. I was recounting how my daughter (who will be nine shortly) can be so obstinate and difficult on certain days - like it's not even her. Hey wait a minute...the thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. Oy vay, it's the start of hormones coursing through her little body. Which led to a discussion about what it used to be called in days of yore.

My mother: "My friend is visiting",
Me: "the curse"
My mother: "No that's getting married".

Haha. She still has that vaudevillian sense of humor and she's 82. And we chuckled on some of the old wive's tales and before you know it, I was pulling up to my house.

True, me mum's hearing may be going or is it gone? She's a bit stiff in her gate, but she's always good for a laugh or two. We do enjoy our Calls from the Road.

Listen for it coming to an NPR station near you.

What Color is Your House?

I'm not big on political blogging for a number of reasons - namely I am no pundit. But also I find the vast number of political blogs are so far left or right that it makes my head spin. It's a safe bet that when you return to my humble abode, all talk of politics will be put away with last night's dinner dishes (I should hope).

That said - it is the midterm elections and we'll wake up tomorrow with either a Red House or a Blue House, no in between. Well that's not exactly representative of the house that I live in - we're a mixed marriage in terms of politics. Although we agree on many key issues and have grown closer in viewpoint over the years, I still get "liberal" lobbed over the net at me and my husband ducks as I throw "right winger" at his head. Neither of us exactly fits the labels and are somewhat moderate in many cases. Our differences, however, are not in our fundamental beliefs - those we share and use as a springboard from which to provide a spiritual basis for raising our children.

One thing my household is united in politically (as is the case I believe for a large percentage of the American public), is the feeling that we need change. How that change is going to be effected is anybody's guess. Not such an easy task. Our country and our world is on a very precipitous perch right now and we're feeling a bit downtrodden. Where do we go from here? How do we bring about a conversation of how to resolve some of the wrongs going on? There are no easy answers no matter what your views are.

In that vein, a blog titled PATH TO PEACE has been started. It is set up by blogger(s) anonymously to "ensure that it does not have a hidden agenda for furthering the cause of any party, group, or individual". Well that sounds refreshing. It really seeks to create a dialogue from which to explore options of how to proceed as a country, as a world towards peace.

The sight has a proposed "International Bill of Rights" and asks whether you would endorse it. Considering a good deal of rhetoric and close-mindedness from both sides of the aisle, I say a blog like this is a breath of fresh air.

I'd like to believe it would be this simple and I'm willing to put the skeptic in me aside, perhaps with the breakfast dishes.

A FAIRY TALE

ONCE UOPN A TIME, there were two girls who met in a funny land where words connect people. It is called The Blogosphere. They met at a place called WAKING AMBROSE (a blog, near as they could tell , that was dedicated to some dead cranky old man) where they became fast friends. Their names were NEVA and G, but they called each other "NBFF" which stood for New Best Friend Forever! They were silly like that. They each met a lot of nice people in this Blogosphere, and Neva had been friends with SAR - a real life belle, who encouraged her to visit Doug's place. The girls had each been shy to join in the fray that occurred daily at Doug's but before long G exclaimed to Neva "hey I can be as sarcastic as the next fellow" and Neva responded in her best Groucho Marx voice, "Well move over and let me talk to the next fellow"! From that day forward, they shared lunch in CENTRAL SNARK.

Long fairy tale short - the day came when the NBFF's would meet The Belle of the Brawl - Sar!


First G drove to Neva' s house and they hopped into Neva's super fast hotrod because as NBFF's they had a lot in common, like being late, and they had to drive really fast like 80 or 140 MPH or something pretty quick anyway. While Sar waited for her hotrod friends to arrive, she sipped coffee and dreamed of new threads to adorn her lovely self with. She was very sweet and didn't even hate the NBFF's when they were late-ish. She was gracious that way - a real belle!



Finally the three girls met! It was as if they had been friends for a long time and in many ways they had. They had a nice lunch together which seemed to stretch out a long while. When they told the waitress how they met, she acted like the three were celebrities. In all fairness, the three girls were pretty much the most excitement the place contained. They were so animated in their conversation and laughter.

After a lot of fun and silly picture taking, they parted reluctantly and promised to keep in touch. This fairy tale has a very happy ending because both Sar and G got homemade cookies from Neva as she is very nice like that. And they all went to bed that night with smiles on their faces and fond memories of a day spent with great new old friends.

THE END.