Knit One, Purl Two, Then Wait 2 Years.....

I knit. I am not a knitter. Rather, I am someone who knits. I know this because I have boxes and bags and baskets full of never used yarn. I have every possible knitting tool, even ones I have no idea how to use. I have projects that I have started and never finished in special knitting project bags. I have books about knitting and have bought patterns that I have never used, but they are all neatly placed in a fancy knitting notebook. See? This is why I am someone who knits. So, as someone who knits, I recently picked up a project I started 2 years ago for a friend's baby. Now that her child is a toddler, I couldn't possibly give her the project. Perfect excuse never to finish it, right? No sir-ree. I decided that now that I have a baby I would pull it out and finish it. And, luckily it's just the right color: blue. It's a blanket knit in a super soft chenille with a "fur" trim. The body of the blanket is really quite easy - it's garter stitch which is knitting every row. The trim however, proved to be more challenging. Another hazard of being someone who knits is that I never read the whole pattern before I start. I just like to dive right in. So, when I finished the blanket I panicked. The pattern instructed me to crochet the trim. Uh, I'm someone who knits, not someone who crochets. So, I did the most logical thing. I called my Mother and asked her to teach me how to crochet. Except when she came to teach me how to crochet, I just couldn't get the hang of it, which I was able to determine by never touching the crochet hook. I stood over her for almost an hour while she "showed" me how to do it. And, by that time she was almost done with it. So, out of the goodness of my heart and in the spirit of strengthening the mother-daughter bond, I decided to let her finish the trim. And, damn if she didn't do a bang up job. I could have taken all the credit and stolen all the glory. But I didn't. I came clean in this blog here. So, my son now has a blanket made for him by his mother & grandmother. And, for those of you wondering if I ever got my friend a baby gift. I did. She is also someone who knits so I gave her a gift certificate to a knitting store. Misery loves company.

TGIF

What is it about Fridays? When I was working I looked forward to Fridays, along with the rest of my colleagues. It was the excitement, joy, relief of having 2 days off from work. I would have thought that Fridays would have a whole new meaning for me since I am not on a traditional work schedule. But I have found that I feel exactly the same way about them as I did before. It means CityCrab has 2 days off from work so he can help me with my job. He is an extra set of hands to hold CityBaby while I make a bottle, find some clean clothes, take a shower (a luxury these days) or run out to the dry cleaner. I have found that I look forward to Fridays with the same elation as before. I also feel like I can get through anything on a Friday because, it is Friday. I am thinking about instituting casual Fridays at home. This means instead of my usual post-pregnancy outfit of yoga pants and t-shirt, I'm going to downshift to sweats and an old t-shirt. And I am going to dress CityBaby in jeans. I'm going to put those denim overalls he got to good use. I might even give him every other Friday off in celebration of summer but not until his 90 day trial period is over.

The Next Food Network Star

It should come as no surprise that I have been spending a lot of time watching TV. I really try not to since I am convinced that it will somehow affect CityBaby's intellectual development. But I figure when I am feeding him it's not like either of us can do anything else so, inevitably the TV is on. And it is usually tuned in to the Food Network . Why? Because regardless of what is on, I can always watch the Food Network. There is always something that grabs my attention. I have noticed lately that while I am feeding him, CityBaby will turn eyes only towards the TV to watch what is on. I have also noticed that the Food Challenges bore him, Rachael Ray is intriguing to him but he can't quite put his finger on it (he must get this from his mother) and Ingrid Hoffman just outright amuses him. I shared this with CityCrab who announced that he would be more than happy if we were cultivating the Next Food Network star. This way we could be assured that we would always have our own chef, something we have long desired.

A Day Late and A Dollar Short

I have heard this saying and I am not sure of it's origin, And, until very recently, I didn't really know what it meant. But now I do. It seems as though I am always a day late and a dollar short lately. Take for example voicemail on my home phone. I'm calling people back whom I have already talked to. Or the large list of thank you notes I have to write. Not to mention the pile of written thank you notes sitting on my desk unstamped. Or the bills stacked up along side them. And all the unread magazines & books collecting dust throughout my house. I don't think the largest memo pad in the world could help me out of this mess. So, for now I'll just get really comfortable being late and saving up my dollars. Gotta cut this short and tend to my screaming baby......

What Is My Mom Quotient?

Now that I am 2.5 weeks into this Mom gig, I was doing a self-assessment the other day. I do come from the corporate world and it's not like I ordered a 360 or anything. I was trying to determine how I rate on the Mom scale. I spent my whole pregnancy reading. Reading about the pregnancy, what to eat, what not to eat, what to avoid, how to sleep, etc. I spent half of my doctor's appts asking ridiculous questions. Thankfully, my physician indulged me. The other half of my pregnancy I spent reading about raising a child. Early development, age appropriate toys, breastfeeding, stimulation, how to write the preschool essay..... And then, BAM, one day your water breaks and you have a baby. A crying, sometimes whaling, baby. And just like the SATs all over again, everything I read and heard flies out the window. I actually took notes on a legal pad in the hospital. That's right - when the lactation consultant told me how to breastfeed I had to interrupt her to tell her to slow down so I could write it all down. So what kind of mother does this make me? I can tell you this: after all the reading I did and preparing myself for how to effectively raise this child, I have pretty much broken every rule. Breastfeeding? We had to supplement with formula in the hospital due to a health issue and we fed CityBaby right from the bottle. Pacifier in the first weeks? Yep - cranky, crying CityBaby gets that thing shoved in his mouth when he just looks like he is going to cry (and it works!) Then I realized, there are no rules. I feed him 4oz every 4 hours and you know what? It works. He sleeps in between, he's happy when he's awake, I read & sing to him and at 2.5 weeks old he sleeps 6 hours a night. So, I must be doing something right. Back to my quotient. On the popular vote, I would likely score low but I am going to give myself high marks. I've made up my own rules.

Generations

I've been doing a lot of thinking about generations lately. My son's bris or ceremonial circumcision (more on this later) took place yesterday. As usual, my father made us pose for all kinds of pictures. Me & my mother, me & my brother, my brother, mother & me, our spouses, our kids, our dry cleaner....you get the idea. Then he requested a generation photo and I realized on my mother's side, we have 4 generations alive. My grandmother, Mama Ruth, as everyone calls her, my mother, me & now, my son. It's amazing to think that we currently span 90 years. And, for the record, I know Mama Ruth would be absolutely appalled that I just told everyone her age, especially after all that plastic surgery to preserve herself, but I think I can get away with this. After all, she is 90 years old - she thinks a computer is a fancy calculator. So, why are generations so important? For me, it is a constant reminder of the journey my family has taken, it is entertaining to hear Mama Ruth tell stories about the history of our family and how they made their way in this country and it is special to know that my son will someday hear these stories. We have been making an effort to record Mama Ruth, this is a personal goal of my husband's as family factotum, so that someday we'll be able to enjoy her stories again and again. And, it is my hope that we will always have 4 generations alive. I'm pretty optimistic since it's apparent that we have good genes. As a tribute, here's a photo of Mama Ruth.

A New Journey

Nine days ago, I entered motherhood for the first time. I am referring to it as my new job although it will just be added to all my current jobs but take first priority. I have been preparing myself for this role for the past 9 months. In fact, I think I have prepared myself for the worst. I had heard all the horror stories and just assumed that I would have war stories of my own that were just as bad to share. The last week has been trying. I didn't have the easiest of deliveries and both my baby and I encountered some minor complications. Then there's the insurance incident where I was momentarily being kicked out of the hospital. But through it all there has been this sense of calm. I know not every day will be good and I'll probably never sleep through the night again. I know that I'll always worry whether I am with him or not and that I'll cry just as hard when I drop him off for college as I did when he entered this world. But, when I hold him and comfort him from crying or listen to him coo, I have a sense of peace. And, so my new journey begins.

What I Learned in Loehmann's Dressing Room

I was recently in a conversation with other some women talking about being women. What differentiates us from men, other than our physical makeup. How we act. How we bond. How we treat each other, even if we are strangers. And, I decided that just about everything I have learned with respect to this, I learned in Loehmann's dressing room. For those of you unfamiliar with Loehmann's, I am not sure I can do it justice. It is the mecca of discount fashion. For some, it is a way of life. It is somewhat of a landmark and in ancient times, I imagine, it was used to provide directions. For example, "Golden Palace has the best chinese food." "Where is Golden Palace?" "You know, in the Loehmann's shopping center." Or, the more familiar, "Who cuts your hair?" "Leonard Golino at LG Salon." "Where is that?" "You know across from Loehmann's on 7th Avenue." "Oh, right."



I can't say I ever remember my first time in Loehmann's. It's almost as though I have been going there my whole life. I ventured there with my mother, my aunt and both grandmothers. And the minute I walk in to any Loehmann's, it is like coming home. Accessories right up from, shoes near the register, clothes racks spread throughout and the hallowed "Back Room" in, where else, the back. Who can forget the chairs upfront, littered with day old newspapers and crowded with the husbands (and wallets) of the women wandering around the racks. And, of course, the dressing room.



No man would survive this place. It is an open room, lined with mirrors, hooks along the walls with a long banquette down the middle. What you see is a mass of undergarments and flesh and women parading themselves, runway style, asking "how does this look?, "what do you think?". At first glance, yo think all these women know each other but, alas, they are strangers. Being in the dressing teaches you humility - you have to have no shame. You are at your most vulnerable - you undress in full sight of other women, all in the name of a bargain, and a good bargain at that. You learn to stand up for yourself. When someone claims your Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress as her own, you let her know it was on your hook. I've actually seen 2 women go at it over a heavily beaded navy gown, stripped down to their skivvies. This place is a war zone. As a young girl, I was a runner. My grandmother would instruct me to locate the St. John jacket, in red, in a 6 (the 8 was a bit too big). Or, the Gottex bathing suit in a 10. As I grew older, I jumped in and became one of them. Finding most of the dresses I wore through my early teens to Bat Mitzvahs there. And, then finally, as an adult I found countless pieces of career wear, sweaters, jackets and shoes.



I, sadly, no longer live in a city with a Loehmann's. But I have always kept the lessons I learned there with me. Humility, pride, vulnerability and the most important lesson of all, it's all worth it for a good bargain.

A Dog's Life

I'v worked from home for about 6 weeks now and I can finally answer the question, "what do my dogs do all day?" Sleep. They literally sleep. On their bed, snuggled together together. In the past, CityCrab and I have pondered this question. Our assessment was that as soon as we leave, they scour the kitchen floor for anything that may have inadvertently dropped during breakfast. Then make their way over the the garbage can (this is good sniffing, after all). Then maybe chill out for a bit. But then the party starts. Let's have a party and throw the cushions off the couch, then take every toy out of the box, play with it and drop it in the most remote corner of the house. Then, let's jump on the window sills, lick the windows and look outside. Then just as the party is winding is down, let's eat dirt out of the potted plants in the den. Why not? It is a party, after all.

How did we come to this conclusion? Dry spots of saliva on the kitchen floor, wet nose prints on the garbage can, toys everywhere, couch cushions on the floor, foot prints on the window sills and tongue marks on the windows. Our buck wild imaginations allowed us to create a day at the fun park for them.

So, now that I'm home? Nothing. They lay around all day. Occasionally, they'll move from one bed to another or perch themselves on the couch. Which, in our dog's oasis of a house, is allowed. I'm almost disappointed when I come down the stairs and witness them practically comatose.

So, I've decided when I come back, I want to come back as my own dog.

Secular Sabbath

Yesterday's New York Times Style Section featured a very interesting article titled . Mark Bittman, a chef who incidentally lives in my hometown (I never pass up the opportunity to name drop), wrote about the concept of a Secular Sabbath . The idea here is that you choose a day or weekend where you disconnect from all media. Phone, internet, blackberry, TV, etc. It's a hearkening back to the day when people actually took a Sabbath. It's important to note that there are many people who observe a religious Sabbath like this today.

So, this got me thinking. What if there was one day a week I disconnected? I could maybe do it on Sat or Sun. My work precludes me from doing it during the week. But the weekend is when I like to catch up on my blogging and my friend's blogs and check Facebook and help my single girlfriends screen men on match & jdate? That's a good deed right there. But then I thought about not having to log on and get sucked into work or inane gossip that sadly makes up a lot of my leisure time. So, yesterday afternoon I tried a mini Sabbath. Around 3pm, I had this incredible urge to log on to my laptop. Like a junkie, I always promise myself just a few emails and I'll log off. But it never ends there. It turns into 3 hours of checking email and then I am sucked back into work, 15 hours too soon. I resisted however and sat down with the rest of the paper. (There was also a very enlightening article in the magazine that I might blog about soon.) I proposed a Secular Sabbath to CityCrab who had the same initial reaction I did. But we decided to try it once, sometime in the future. When it's convenient.

My Own Writer's Strike

I've been on a writer's strike of my own the last 6 weeks. I would like to tell you that all the time I spent walking in the picket line outside my house resulted in a substantial raise and residuals for all that online content. But I am here to tell you that my the last 6 weeks were comprised of moving, unpacking, settling in, putting away dishes and linens, finding places to stash the voluminous stuff we have collected and coordinating cable, furniture delivery, housekeepers and all varieties of workmen. As I mentioned in a previous post, moving is no fun. And, on top of that, it's not something that has a definite end. I'm sure I'll still feel like I'm moving in another 6 weeks. But the good news is that now that I realized my own writer's strike was a figment of my imagination, I am back to blogging.

Moving Day

Tomorrow is Moving Day. Hard to believe it's finally here. It feels like we've been packing for weeks. I've watched every one of my possessions be wrapped and put in a box. It's hard to believe in just a few days I'll be reversing that process. Moving always gives me hope that I'll organize, everything will be neat for a while - my linens will be perfectly lined up and my towels will look like the display at Restoration Hardware. But alas chaos wins out. In fact, I suspect I'll be in chaos for the next few days. Expect another entry when the chaos calms and I land on the other side.

On The Move

I despise moving. And everything about it. Packing, wrapping, organizing, cleaning, living among boxes and junk for weeks. But, I love moving on. New space, chance to organize and have everything in it's place. Right now, I am on the cusp of a move. I am also on the cusp of an anxiety attack to match it. I have known for quite some time that I would be moving yet I elected not to pack one thing or even think about it. I've been scouring Craig's List for cheap or free moving boxes. I'm trying to find that tape gun I pilfered from a job several years ago. I am thinking about how I am going to wrap all those wedding presents so they don't break. I have also enlisted CityCrab to help. He's been living in our new city for a few months now but we have developed a plan where we'll spend the holidays together....packing.

Consistency

As a blog author, I also read a lot of blogs. One of the most common subjects I find is the issue of consistency. People write about how they pledged to write for some many weeks, months, years. They write about why they take time off, what they’ve been doing, where they’ve been. There’s a lot of apologies and excuses. I am not casting stones especially since I have been a member of all categories above. I’ve been inconsistent and I find that when I write, I write a bunch. In fact, this is the last of 4 entries I am getting ready to publish. This month marks over a year for me so I made it to my 1 year goal. And, I’ll continue to write. I’ll also continue to make excuses and be inconsistent and apologize from time to time. Hopefully, you’ll continue to read.

Chanukah, Hanukah, Hanukkah

Since I received more than one question on this year, I thought I would address it. What’s the deal with the spelling of this holiday? Truth is, I have no idea. But, I have a few theories of my own. Firstly, Chanukah is a Hebrew word. The Hebrew alphabet is not a one for one for the English alphabet so really there’s no checks and balances on this one. Two Ks? Sure, why not. A “CH” versus an “H”? It’s really in how you choose to pronounce it. Secondly, I think it’s a personal preference. For example, my mother has always used the Chanukah spelling. So, that’s what I feel comfortable with. So whether you go heavy with
your pronunciation, throw in an extra K or H, we still get gifts for 8 days.

The Miracle of Chanukah

Long story short, after successfully driving the Syrians out of The Temple in Jerusalem, the Macabees wanted to clean it up for their own use. As a tribute to their victory they wanted to light the candelabra. They were only able to find a tiny a drop of oil. But, miraculously, that oil lasted for 8 nights and thus we have Chanukah. I’ve always felt that Chanukah lent itself to some mathematical miracle of its own. For example, in Jewish day schools instead of the “a bus leaves Chicago going 75mph and a bus leaves New York going 85 mph….” question do they ask “you have an 8 candle menorah and every night you light a candle for the night plus a leader candle……” Having celebrated Chanukah for 30 something years now I know that in order to fulfill the celebration you need 44 candles. Every year, I rummage through my cabinets, closets and storage bins to find juts enough candles. Sometimes they all match, other times I have some beeswax, some smooth. Always different colors. But, alas, I always find 44. And, so the miracle of Chanukah, continues.

The Miracle of Chanukah

Long story short, after successfully driving the Syrians out of The Temple in Jerusalem, the Macabees wanted to clean it up for their own use. As a tribute to their victory they wanted to light the candelabra. They were only able to find a tiny a drop of oil. But, miraculously, that oil lasted for 8 nights and thus we have Chanukah. I’ve always felt that Chanukah lent itself to some mathematical miracle of its own. For example, in Jewish day schools instead of the “a bus leaves Chicago going 75mph and a bus leaves New York going 85 mph….” question do they ask “you have an 8 candle menorah and every night you light a candle for the night plus a leader candle……” Having celebrated Chanukah for 30 something years now I know that in order to fulfill the celebration you need 44 candles. Every year, I rummage through my cabinets, closets and storage bins to find juts enough candles. Sometimes they all match, other times I have some beeswax, some smooth. Always different colors. But, alas, I always find 44. And, so the miracle of Chanukah, continues.

Stung

When you see The Police perform twice within 3 months you’ve officially been Stung. We traveled abroad in Sept and caught The Police at Twickenham Rugby Stadium (just outside London). Then the week we returned home, we found out that they would be playing in our current town of Charlotte. So, we snagged tickets and went. Good news is that CityCrab conceded that his Sting desire has been satiated for quite some time. Whew! Just when I thought we were going to have out quit our jobs and follow them around in The Police bus.

Paris

Our primary goal is Paris was to sight see and eat. I've got lots of eating notes. Sightseeing not so much.

Here's a rundown of our eating experiences:

Angelina - we had been told my many people to check this out and it happened to be right around the corner from our hotel Rue de Rivoli. Tourist trap? yes. But if you know the language, they are quite nice. I did and was able to navigate my way at the front counter completely in French. Although one morning I ended up with some kind of pear pastry that I had not intended to order. But, like the Soup Nazi, it's best to order, pay and move on. Ask no questions.


I had done extensive research on restaurants in Paris. I researched and cross referenced from all sources. CityCrab left this completely in my hands and as we rode the Eurostar to Paris, I thought I was set on where we would eat. But, we ended making some game time decisions that worked in our favor.

First night, we went to Le Severo. It was a last minute decision. We didn't make a reservation, we schlepped over the 14 arrondisement and we found a small slice of heaven waiting for us. It is located on the corner with windows lining both walls. There's maybe 10 tables inside and when we entered (around 9pm) there was one long table filled with what looked like university students, drinking, smoking, eating, laughing - living carefree Parisian life. We were met by a man in a white butcher's coat. I got the sense that he did not speak English (I was right). I pulled out my best high school French (Merci, Monsieur Betts) and proceeded to have a complete conversation with him. His name is Guillaume and he's the owner. At his recommendation, we dined on goat cheese & fresh greens, steak frites (prepared 2 ways), sauteed mushrooms and a carafe of house red wine. Delicious. I didn't even crave ketchup for the frites. Then Guillaume did something that endeared me to him. He sat down at our booth, gave me a locals restaurant book and told us where to eat. He instructed me that when I got back to the hotel, I need to ask the concierge to make a reservation at these restaurants tonight and to tell them that Guillaume sent me. I double cheek kissed him on the way.

The next night didn't start until quite late. Our second day in Paris started early and we didn't end our sightseeing portion until 7pm or so. When we got back to the hotel, we made a reservation at Chez Denise. We were scheduled to eat at Bistro Paul Bert since we had heard great things about it but decided, again last minute, not to. At about 10pm we walked into Chez Denise. It is located in Les Halles section (essentially the meat packing district of Paris). You would have thought it was 8pm. The place was packed, the tables were so close you couldn't tell where one group ended and another began. We immediately felt rejuvenated. I could also tell we were the only Americans in there. I love a good find like this. We started with foie gras. At the waiter's recommendation, I had the beef kebab (a special) and CityCrab ordered the marinated steak. When we asked for frites, he gave us "bien sur" which is French for "of course, what do you think we wouldn't serve you frites!" This was all accompanied by a couple of carafes of house red. We made conversation with the table next to us. At first in French (I love when people think we're locals) then in English when the French got too hard to understand (or I got too drunk.) Our tablemates lived in Paris but originally from Martinique. We tumbled out of there close to 12 then walked all the way home. Another great find.

Uh-oh. I've done it. I've put you to sleep with my slideshow.

Our last night, we ate at L'Absinthe. A recommendation from some friends. Located in a small square not too far from our hotel. Had much more of an American feel to it. All the waitstaff spoke English and we were seated in between Americans. Food was good. Something different from the steak frites we had had the previous 2 nights. With all that Paris has to offer, not sure I would go back. Michel Rostang, is wellknown chef(a Parisian Mario Batali of sorts) and has a couple of restaurants in Paris, each run by one of his daughters. I would likely try another one of his places next time.

London

I don't want this to become the blog equivalent of the dreaded slide show so I only going to include highlights. Same goes for Paris.

We were fortunate to have 2 of the best guides you could have: our friends who are London locals. Both born & bred. The best host is the one who is willing to partake in sightseeing in their own town. I can honestly say that while living in New York I was a bad host. I hardly ever went above 42nd Street and encouraged visitors to see the Statue of Liberty & Empire State Building and to call when they were done. I think my attitude has since changed.

Buckingham Palace - this was one of the highlights of the trip. In August & September, they open the state rooms here while the queen is summering at Balmoral. We had access to the mews (horse stables, garages for cars & carriages) and public rooms inside the palace. Very cool. Audio tour is free (a nice perk since they charge you everywhere for it in the States) and you really feel immersed in the lives of the royals family. They also have an extensive art collection throughout the residence. If you visit in late summer, I highly recommend this.

Tate Modern - We are big art fans and while I think you can get art overload especially when all the artists start to look the same and you can point out works you've seen in New York, Chicago & Florence but the Tate delivered in a very unique way. The collection here are very unique and provocative. In addition, they have a lot of interactive exhibits. They are currently undergoing a renovation a la MOMA and have clear glass panels exposing it. The Tate is housed in an old factory building along The Thames. The building itself is an exhibit. Free admission and a gift shop to rival the new one at MOMA.

Being Locals - Since we were accompanied by our friends we did a lot of local stuff. For example, we took the 11 bus throughout the city since it is one of the best ways to see everything. Why pay for the double decker when your oyster card can get you the same for only a few quid? We partook in watching rugby accompanied by ciders (first time I tried - really enjoyed it, much better than beer.) We went for a curry at Le Taj in Battersea, tea at The Berkley (a wonderful experience), they even hosted dinner at their flat serving a traditional British meal which was absolutely delicious. This really made the trip.

Eating - I would be remiss if I didn't mention at least one meal out. We ate at Eight Over Eight, an asian inspired restaurant located on Kings Road. Food was great. It's an extensive menu of small plates of all kinds of delicious concoctions. Gow Gee (like dumplings), miso cod, wagy beef (Kobe to us Americans), chili salt squid, sweet potato curry...I think we tried just about everything on the menu. Highly recommend it.