Miracle

Anyone who reads this blog or knows me, knows about Lulu. She is our 3 1/2 year old English Bulldog. And she is a terror. We adopted her when CityCrab was insistent that Reuben needed a friend. I was against it and yet from the moment this little terror showed up at our door I have grown to love her. She is our Marley. On more than one occasion, CityCrab has suggested getting rid of her. Explaining that we will find her a good home, and a family who loves her, blah, blah, blah. Through crocodile tears, I madly pleaded to keep her and retorted that everyone in her life has dumped her on the side of the road, do you want to be the same???? She is extremely sweet and lovable and is it easy to tell she has suffered some kind of abuse in her life because she yearns for attention & love. She is a horrible snorer and has some bathroom confusion (is hardwood grass? this always confuses me.....) Well, a few weeks ago we returned from a weekend away to a vomit fest. She pretty much threw up for 3 days straight. On the third day, I called CityCrab at work and told him he had to come home, get her and bring her to the vet. I felt so badly. She ended up spending 3 days in the hospital (cha-ching, cha-ching). We received a call from our vet on the last day of her visit with a list of medications and instructions. We reconciled that the end was near and that we would take her home for 1 night, be together then make the decision the next day. We prepared our friends and family, we took tons of pictures & video. We tried to explain the whole thing to our 9 month old CityBaby We were gripped with fear & sadness. We diligently administered fluids & various medications and promised that we would do everything we could to save her. The first few days, she was tired and lazy. Then she slowly rebounded. I received a call yesterday from the vet after some bloodwork earlier this week. Her numbers are no worse than before and in some cases have improved. She has survived a collapsed lung and worms (both of which she had the day we adopted her), a bout with pneumonia and, even though she has kidney disease, she seems to have avoided it, for now. We know that this disease will eventually kill her. We also know that the time she has spent with us has been the best in her life. We have given her love, comfort, and most importantly, unlimited tennis balls. So, this is a living tribute to her. I'm sure one day I will be writing the other kind but for now it's a celebration.

Busted!

I got busted. Well, I did have an accomplice but I was the ringleader. About 2 weeks ago, I sent CityCrab off with CityBaby to get him some shoes. For a 9 month old, he's got some big old feet. The challenge we have is that we have a hard time getting the shoes on his feet. So, CityCrab comes back with size 6 navy blue Converse Chucks. Super cute. But size 6? CityCrab swears he tried them on in the store with a sock. These things were boats. In fact, as soon as I put him on the ground, CityBaby walked right out of them. We participate in collaborative parenting in our house, which consists of me, CityCrab & our nanny. She is our go to source for opinions and advice. So, one morning in the nursery we engaged in a conversation about the shoes. I was pointing the obvious (to me) that the shoes were huge. The nanny, riding the neutral line, kind of agreed with me. CityCrab stood firm. CityCrab then went downstairs on his way out the door while we continued to discuss the shoes. I can't remember verbatim but I might have said something like, "These are ridiculous, right? And now I have to go back to the store and return them. Ugh." But I can't be sure. Just as I was finishing up my rant, from downstairs came a resounding, "I can hear you..." Damn baby monitor! Ooops. The nanny and I collapsed into laughter. Note to self: turn off baby monitor before engaging in defamatory conversation. Much easier than having to abstain from defamatory conversation at all.

Oh The Guilt

I am plagued with guilt. What else is new? Today, a friend of mine and fellow blogger, mentioned that she had not seen any new posts lately. And the guilt hit me. Like a ton of bricks. I haven't written in over a month. But let me tell ya, there has been lots going on. Sometimes I'll make a note to myself to or start a post in my drafts just so I can keep up. So, look for more posts very soon.

Aloft

Last week, while traveling, I had the opportunity to stay at Starwood's new brand hotel, Aloft. I have 2 disclosures to make: I am an ex-employee of Starwood and I am a hotel snob (as a result of having been an employee at Starwood.) Being a hotel snob is easy when you work for a hotel company. You are staying at the best hotels for very little money. Being a hotel snob when you are not an employee of a hotel company is miserable. But it's not so bad in an economy like this. So, I found myself at Aloft, a vision of W hotels (as the tagline goes.) The hotel is brand new so you can't go wrong there. The decor is Ikea-esque. The bed is on a platform (no box spring) which I thought would be a problem but proved to be quite comfortable. There was no closet and everything was stored in cubbies - coffee machine, magazines, fancy teas, etc. The bathroom consisted of a large glass shower and toilet with a pocket door covered in mirror on one side. There was a flatscreen in the bedroom area and long bench to throw all your stuff (I actually liked this since I tend to have a lot of stuff.) The icing on the cake? Bliss products . The cherry on top? Dispensers in the shower carrying both shampoo/conditioner (which I can't use due to the snarl of hair I have but I appreciated the effort) and body wash. Next time I stay there, which will be again, I am absolutely bringing empty containers to load up on body wash. I'm a hotel snob with a weakness for free product.

Sign of the Times

I know we're in the worst housing crisis in history, a recession and our economy sucks. I work in finance, I get it. I can see it everywhere. Stores are less busy at peak times, foreclosure signs are popping up (even on beach front property) and everyone is offering "buy one, get one free." But it was never more apparent to me when I started leafing through the magazines that arrive at my door everyday and noticed the change in paper stock. I do have a bit of a magazine problem and as such, have become a bit of an aficionado. So, of course, the dullness of the paper shocked me right away. I felt betrayed, as though I had been handed a second-hand newspaper. (This is another issue I have. I don't like anyone to read the Sunday Times before me. It is worth every penny for me to have mine own brand new copy. A used copy makes me feel dirty.) The colors didn't pop, the words looked blurry and made me want to give up magazine reading altogether. Is this what we've been driven been to? In addition to all the money we've been swindled out of, we've also been robbed of the ability to picture ourselves in this season's fashions or to actually feel as though I am seated at the table between Diane & Barry? It was enough to make me take to my bed. But then, Vanity Fair showed up. I knew Graydon and team wouldn't let me down. And, sure enough, they didn't. I've recovered. I'm back. The economy, however, is not.

Hit and Run

I am starting out this post with the words my family members always say when they call very early in the morning: No one died. (That's the kind of family I have - ever optimistic.) This morning we had a hit and run. Not me, not the baby. Lulu. Yep, the birthday girl. Usually, when I let the dogs out in the morning they run across the street and go to the bathroom. This morning a car came by. Usually, I can distract them with a cookie and they run right to me. Well, this morning Lulu saw the car and decided to go after it. Now, let me explain something about her. She is not afraid of anything and laughs in the face of danger. I signal the car to slow down, it does and Lulu decides to pick up the pace and runs towards the front tire. The car is going about 7 MPH when she hits and gets repelled back. The car picks up and keeps going and Lulu rebounds herself and gallops back across the street to get her cookie. Reuben is staring at her with his "what is wrong with you? Seriously?" face. And I can't help but laugh. She is totally fine and the event was so unbelievable that I was laughing when I told CityCrab about it. Of course, his face went white when I started the story which just proves that I know he loves her despite their contentious relationship. And did she learn her lesson? Of course not. This afternoon when I let her out she went right over to the car and sniffed the tailpipe. I'm thinking about getting her on Fear Factor - the canine version.

Happy Birthday, Lulu

Today is Lulu's 3rd birthday. It's amazing that we've had her a little over 2 years. Even more amazing is that we still have her. Lulu is our Marley and we've vocalized getting rid of her several times. We adopted her and slowly found out why the family was so willing to give her away. But all the things that enraged us quickly became all the things we love about her. She's quirky, she snores and she coughs like she's had one too many Marlboros. She loves the ball and will do anything you want at the promise of getting one. She drives Reuben crazy but deep down inside he loves her. She's a great watch dog and her bark is way bigger than her bite. She gives good kisses and is an expert cuddler. Plus, she's sweet and gentle especially with CityBaby. So, in celebration of you, Lulu, let's put a candle in a frosty paw, sing happy birthday and party.

Award Show Fever

I have the fever. I get it every year. From the very first celebrity who hits the carpet for the Golden Globes, all the way to the credit roll for the Oscars. This week they announced the nominations and I realized I hadn't seen one movie. So, I decided I either a) need to make friends with a member of the Academy, real quick or b)get a job at Blockbuster, where I can get paid to watch movies all day. Since neither are realistic, I guess instead of the movies, I'll be forced to dish about what people are wearing. Shocking.

The Human Stain

Before I had a baby, I was clean. My house was clean. My car was clean. Even my dogs were clean. Now that I have a baby, a "spitter" no less, my life is stained.
The other day before I ran out of the house, I did a quick buzz by the mirror then did a double take when I saw a huge Galapagos Island stain down the front of my shirt. So, I smelled the shirt to make it was clean. Sure enough it was. I was tagged. As I walk through my house, I have constant reminders of the little person living in my 3rd bedroom. There's a splotch of peas on the rug in the hallway. And over there by the laundry room is where the chicken and squash dinner made its home. The guest room comforter was the scene of the formula hit & run. I thought at the time it would be safe to hang out in there since it had been almost 3 hours since eating. I heard it only gets worse once they start to potty train. The only one this is good news for is Lulu, since she has occasionally been known to leave her mark on the rug. Now, we'll have to stand over the stain, CSI-like, trying to determine its composition to decide whether we should reprimand Lulu or call it cute because it came from our first-born. But the fact of the matter is I wouldn't change my stained life for anything.

My Martha Stewart Moment

I am not really crafty. I don't own a glue gun and I don't make things. I see things and think "I could make that" but I never do. However, every year for the holidays I try to channel Martha. CityCrab always says that a homemade gift means more than anything you can buy. And it's nicer than cash. CityCrab's family has a huge annual Chanukah celebration. There are about 30 people in his immediate family so it really turns into a gathering. Every year, I try to bring something I made. A few years back, I made chocolate dipped pretzel sticks. This is the easiest thing I have ever done. Melt the chocolate, dip the pretzel and then dip it in sprinkles or crushed m&ms and done. These were a hit but you can't show up every year with the same thing. That almost borders on showing you don't care. As most of you know I have a 6 month old baby so that definitely cramps my style (and time) a bit. I thought about doing something with apples since I have bushels from my mother. But apples are so not a "treat." So, I thought I would do a little Martha channeling. I conjured up my most creative thoughts from deep inside. I even watched Whatever for inspiration. Nothing. Then I went to the grocery store and saw that cookie dough was on sale. Perfect! I bought logs of cookie dough. I bought frosting in a jar and sprinkles and colored sugar crystals. I was ready to go to town. Well, the first batch of cookies came out very crispy. So those went to the garbage men to say "thank you for picking up after us all year," because nothing says happy holidays like burned cookies. The next batch was better. The decorating was actually fun. I dumped the whole thing of frosting in a zip lock bag, snipped the end and went to work. I made Jewish stars and dreidels. Then I made dots and lines. I even tried a multi-colored plaid (didn't work). I had frosting in my hair and frosting all over the counter. Reuben & Lulu were stationed right at my feet for the frosting and cookie crumbs that fell off the counter. Lucky for me they make a great clean-up committee. It was fun. The final outcome a success. My house a mess. Martha Stewart would have been appalled. Oh well.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match

I fancy myself a bit of a matchmaker. I am no Yenta. But I like to make matches where I see fit. CityCrab is often a party to this. For example, we attended a birthday party of a friend. Met a very nice guy there. Talked to him for about 20 minutes. Weeks pass and we have a friend coming to town. We decide to call this guy, out of the blue, and see if he's interested in meeting our friend for a drink. Volia! A date. CityCrab and I have had one successful match. Success is defined as a match that leads to marriage. Although, we can hardly take credit for it since we didn't premeditate the introduction, it just kinda happened. As an amateur matchmaker, you must always be aware of who is single, who is looking, what their stats are and always have people in mind. Afterall, it's not as though you can actually write this stuff down. It has happened this way for centuries in many cultures. And, there are those today who continue the tradition. You know who you are. So, if you know of anyone...call me!

The Matzah Ball

The Jewish people have many traditions. Some religious, some cultural. Two of these traditions occur on Christmas, oddly enough. One is Chinese food and movies on Christmas day. For whatever reason, these are the only 2 establishments open on Christmas. And, it is pretty much universal, whether you are in New York, California, Florida or anywhere in between, where I heard a rumor that Jews live. The other tradition is The Matzah Ball. I am not sure where this originated but I have to think it's the brainchild of some Jewish club promoter. This event occurs on Christmas Eve and is an opportunity for Jews to descend on a drinking establishment for revelry and good cheer. This, however, is not universal and occurs in mnay varieties. For example, in larger cities like NY, Chicago & Atlanta, these events are comonly for singles. A Jewish mtoher's dream that you will attend and meet the spouse of your dreams, become engaged on the following Christmas Eve and be married by Passover. In smaller cities, like Charleston, SC where I live, it casts a wider net. There are singles and married couples and divorcees and people in their 20s and people in their 50s. In these small cities, there are not enough of any one group to make up a contingency for a matzah ball, so we like to throw it all together. A mixed matzah ball, if you will. So, Wednesday night CityCrab and I attended the Matzah Ball. It was a chance to catch up with friends, see people who live elsewhere but make it home for the holidays and do a little amateur matchmaking.

yourbabycanread.com

So, I finally got around to calling the number to see what this was all about. And, I was informed that my baby can read. For $79.99. What happened to the $14.95 deal? Let me back up. Last night, we had a small Chanukah party and Mama Ruth asked me if I called the number. CityCrab shoots me a raised eyebrow which I ignore and nonchalantly answer back, "not yet." One thing about Mama Ruth, for a 90 year old brain, she doesn't forget a thing. So, this morning I tear apart my desk looking for the scrap of paper that has the number on it. I find it and call where I am greeted by a very chipper fellow who immediately asks my name & zip code. He confirms the spelling of my name and my city, making it sound much more alluring than it is (his chipper voice again). He then told me that since I was calling I "must have a baby I care about." Ping! BS meter on! I played right into it and said that since I do have a baby I care about, I didn't have a lot of time to chat. Did he have a website? Of course, he did: yourbabycanread.com. So, I went directly there just dying to see what it had to say. Well, this was not just any program, it is the premier early language development system created by a Dr. Robert Titzer (seriously? Titzer?). And it has been featured on Montel. Uh, I thought that show was cancelled with Sally Jessy Raphael? So, now I'm in a bit of a pickle. How do I call Mama Ruth and tell her she's been duped? I suppose I just pick up the phone and tell her it's $79.95. That should cure it.

The Talking 6 Month Old

This is from the files of the "I can't believe this is my life." Earlier today the phone rings. It's Mama Ruth. I know it's her, because she does this thing where she is already talking by the time you pick up the phone so you catch in her mid-sentence. This is what I catch: "...5 o'clock this morning on channel 32, they have something that I want to buy. I will pay for it but I need your permission." She wants to buy the Monster1200 steam cleaner CityCrab is obsessed with? She wants to buy the Ron Popeil Rotisserie? (Did she forget one of her friends gave it to us as wedding present? Of course she did.) Oh no. She saw a "thing", as she so eloquently called it, that teaches children to talk. This is how she explains it: "The girl on the TV points to a yellow circle and the child says 'yellow'. It's created by a doctor. A Dr. Tisch-something, Jewish, I imagine. It's $14.95." So, at this point I know that she is up at 5:30am, watching infomercials (which just screams inheritance depletion) and that she thinks a $14.95 thing created by a Jewish doctor, natch, can teach CityBaby to talk. When I ask what it is called, she says she has no idea but she gives me a phone number. And, because I have a sense of humor, I jot it down. Now I have to call it and see what this thing is all about. Stay tuned....

Chanukah

Last year's Chanukah post explained the Miracle of Chanukah as the ability to somehow always find 44 candles for the menorah. This year's miracle will be my ability to actually pull it off. Last year was a time of innocence when my biggest problem problem was finding enough candles. This year, I've got a whole new set of issues. I am not very organized. At all. And anyone who knows me, knows this. Having just moved 10 months ago means that I cannot find anything I need. For example, earlier this week I tried to find last year's leftover cards to send holiday greetings. Guess I won't be sending any this year. (Consider this a public plea for forgiveness.) I also tried to find our menorahs. We have 2: one from my grandmother and one CityCrab gave me. If I don't get on it, this year we'll be blowing out birthday candles instead of lighting Chanukah ones. I was talking with a friend earlier today who suggested I go to Target for chocolate gelt. I was encouraged until she said that I would really need to root around in there since it was kinda picked over. Well, this year it's real gelt for everyone! The one thing I did get was presents. And, not only did I buy presents for CityBaby, I hid them....FROM A 6 MONTH OLD! See, I am not all air up there. But the good news is that this year I am sharing the holiday with CityCrab and my friends and family who live close by, and starting a new tradition with CityBaby. So, we may not have candles but miracles still abound.

Having The Vision

I think I need a vision board. I've been reading a lot about them lately and hearing about them on blogs, from friends even from Oprah (whom I think may have invented it, like everything else). I am not exactly sure if they work. Although, I can see why they would work. A constant reminder of where you are going. Like the GPS that tells you take a right in 2 miles. I often write notes to myself and stick them in all kinds of places so I don't forget to take the stroller out of the car or call the doctor to renew my prescription. I know that the new year always brings out the list of resolutions that typically last a few weeks (at least for me). But maybe if I have a constant reminder I'll stay fosused. I'm going to invest in a glue stick and see where it takes me. How's that for vision?

The Big Apple

Last week my mother showed up at my door with a box of apples. A big box of apples. Family friends sent them 2 boxes this year and she didn't know what to do with them so she gave them to me. Who doesn't love holiday apples? I have since discovered that it is nearly impossible for 2 people to eat that many apples. But I am doing my darnedest to disprove that theory. So, for the past week we have been eating apple crisp and apple oatmeal. Apples with cheese and apples with peanut butter. Even Reuben & Lulu were able to get in on the gig since apples are a vet-approved food. CityBaby is getting homemade apple sauce. And, at my sister in law's suggestion I am going to attempt an apple cake. I am appled out.

Kabbalah

I should start this post by saying that I am going to reveal some controversial ideas here and I am treading on new territory since I hardly ever speak about religion or politics. I consider myself a fairly religious person. I embrace my Jewish identity, I observe Jewish holidays and being Jewish is a large part of who I am, certainly from a cultural perspective. I don't claim to understand it all and I am not a scholar. However, I think Kabbalah is for amateurs. I suppose the most annoying part about it is that people like Madonnna have made it into something I don't think it is. It's crazy to me that Madonna can strap a red string on her wrist, start a trend and show up at Rosh Hashanah services with Demi & Ashton. What about the guilt, what about the birthing hips? You can't just believe in the secret Jewish meaning of numbers and become a Jew. I just don't buy it.

Infected

I had my first computer virus this past week. It was a very traumatic experience. Actually, I was embarrassed. I innocently opened my hotmail to, ironically, send a work email. All of a sudden in my work email, I saw the subject line: "Welcome to you online shopping!" I immediately was annoyed by whichever friend send me this crap. Then I saw that I was the sender. And my stomach dropped. Did I realize I had a virus? No. I was wracked with shame because there was a spelling error in the subject line. Then my inbox became flooded with emails from friends asking if I had sent and about my new business (!?!). My stomach dropped some more. I responded, in hindsight a little too defensively, that I would never send that email especially with a spelling error in the subject line and how could you even think I would. I was lashing out with no reason. Textbook vulnerable behavior. Well, I am glad the whole thing is behind me. I don't do contagious very well.

Superstition

My family is superstitious. Not umbrella in the house, death happens in 3s superstitious. Crazy superstitious. It might be cultural (we're Jewish) or it might just be we are crazy. For example, when CityBaby was born Mama Ruth instructed me to take him home from the hospital and rub a pishy diaper on his face. Pishy is apparently Yiddish for urine soaked diaper. When I protested, she instructed me to put a red Kabbalah string around his wrist. For those of you who know me, I think Kabbalah is for amateurs. Here's how the conversation went:

Mama Ruth: Put a red string on his wrist.
Me: It's a choking hazard.
Mama Ruth: Then put it on his ankle.
Me: It's a CHOKING HAZARD!
Mama Ruth: Then put a red ribbon under his crib mattress and on his car seat.
Me: OK, Fine!

Now, I must backup and tell you the extent to which Mama Ruth takes this seriously. She wears a red ribbon on her bra everyday. I remember many moments as a child in the Loehmann's dressing room staring at that thing. If you meet her, she will proudly reveal her bra strap sporting the red ribbon and tell you that she was into it before Madonna. But it goes further than this. When we recently purchased a new car to meet the needs of our expanding family, the first time we picked her up she got in the backseat and threw change on the floor. Later, CityCrab (who is a bit of a neat freak) was in the back picking it up. I had to break the news to him: Don't pick it up. It's a superstition and if you pick it up, she'll just keep throwing it. Same with when you move into a new house. We invited her over the day we moved in. I opened the door to be greeted by her standing there with a broom, a pound of sugar and more change. She instructed me to come outside, close the door and go back in. I obeyed. Why? I had to enter the house with the broom and the sugar. She threw the change on the floor and I had to sweep it into a corner. Why? So, I will always have a life filled with prosperity (change), cleanliness (broom) & healthy (sugar. Sugar? She obviously doesn't know that white sugar kills). It doesn't end there. It seems as though I learn a new superstition everyday. Whenever I share one of CityBaby's acheivements, I have to spit. If I mistakenly walk across someone who is lying on the floor, I have to walk back over them. Did you know they could die? And, don't even ask what you have to do when you put a hat on the bed. In fact, now that I'm about finished with this post, I think I need to rub my own face with a dirty diaper. Luckily, we have a surplus of those around here.