Sleep

I used to think sleep was overrated. I used to stay awake until 4 or 5am, sleep until 11am (or pm) and awake refreshed, looking like a million bucks. That was in my 20s. Then, I had a baby. Then, I had a toddler in a big boy bed. With all the my "insert body here" hurts and I have to pee and I'm scared and I'm thirsty and did you know it may only be 1:30 am but it's time to wake up. Then there was daylight savings. Now, I am lucky if I get a mediocre four to five hours. And I pray that the bags under my eyes look like cosmectic bags and not the Tumi oversized traveler. Zzzzzzzz..............

Advanced Style

I have been desperate for inspiration. Lucky for me, it was thrown my way last week from a friend who turned me on to a blog named Advanced Style. This blog features women of a certain age (ok, women who are 70+) who travel the streets of Manhattan in the utmost of style. I was instructed to check it out, with these parting words: Mama Ruth has got to get on this thing. After perusing the site, I heartily agree. This is right up her alley. So, while her flight plan is not quite Manhattan, she carries herself with the utmost of style. It has often been remarked to me by several women in town that they can't believe a 93 year old wears heels that high and that often. Mama Ruth has very few rules in life but there are a few style tenets she lives by:

1. She is always dressed up. Always. Why? Because you never know.

2. She always wear jewelry. Her standard package consists of 2 necklaces, earrings, a watch, some kind of bracelet and her signature look of one large citrine and one aquamarine pointer finger ring. I mean really, who wears a ring on the pointer finger to begin with, never mind both? I beleive it gives her super powers.

3. She has a story that goes with each piece of jewelry. It typically starts with "Sidney bought me this when we were in..." or the ever popular "I practically paid nothing for it....".

4. Everything comes back around. So keep it. Forever. Or at least for 93 years. In her trove of a closet, you can find the wedding dresses she wore to my mother and aunt's weddings (and she wore two at one wedding), the dresses she wore to all of our bar/bat mitzvahs (again, there were several costume changes), her collection of St. John holiday wear (and by holiday, I mean the High Holy Days), tons of vintage Lilly Pulitzer and numerous lifecycle dresses: weddings, brises, baby namings, etc.

5. Fur is in. Never mind what PETA says. Her mantra goes something like this: anyone who eschews fur has never owned one because they keep you damn warm.

6. She wears slacks, not pants. She also uses the term dungarees. As in, I tried to find a pair of dungarees for CityBaby but don't know his size.

7. Wear lipstick. Pinch your cheeks before you leave the house (it brings the color back to your face). Use handcream regularly. And, stash a few dollars in every purse you own in case you need to run out of the house quickly. You never know when you'll need folding money, for a cab or cup of coffee.

With these simple, seven rules you'll always be prepared for what life has to offer. And, you'll always be in advanced style.

It's been so long since I have blogged that blogger has changed. There's a new interface for publishing, which I am just now fumbling my way around. And, there's a whole new slew of dynamic templates to choose from. While I would consider myself an early adopter with many forms of technology, I abhor change. Getting a new phone is an event that can throw my whole day, month, year! out of whack. I do not like my apple cart to be upset. What a great excuse to blog more often!

Where Have You Been?

I was posed this question this other day from a long time blog reader. Ok, it was a relative. But, in mind, it counts. I have been avoiding the blog for some time (3 months to be exact) and here's why:

1. I've been busy. Summer can be all consuming. I much prefer the school year when there is a set schedule to everything and people seem to be more diligent about keeping a routine. In all honesty, I would love my answer to this question to be "I have been insert huge achievement here." Huge achievement could be replaced with working on my Nobel Peace Prize speech, finishing my novel or studying Mandarin. But really I have just been busy with life.

2. It's been hot. I know, I know. I sound like a complainer. But the truth is that having successive 100+ degree days is exhausting and unmotivating.

3. My garden has been a HUGE disappointment. Last year, if you remember, I blogged almost weekly about my bounty of vegetables. This year, I had exactly one (yes, one) zucchini, Roma tomatoes and a couple of big boys. Really disappointing. Now, I've just got a weed garden. Even my herbs didn't grow. The heat really killed my garden. CityCrab cut off my access to the hose after our water bills reached $200/month. But the good news is that I have read that there's a second growing season here in the South so I am already engineering my Fall garden.

4. Did I mention it has been hot?

5. I've been daydreaming. As the September issues of magazines and Fall clothes catalogs show up in mailbox, I'm distracted. I am dreaming of boots and sweaters and jeans and turtlenecks. I am hopeful I will be wearing all these by Thanksgiving. Or I could be hitting the beach then...who knows?

Now that I am in back to school mode and the while the summer isn't exactly winding down here, I am ready to get back to my routine. And I've got a long list of blogworthy topics so stay tuned.

Mother's Day: An Introspective Review

Author's Note: This post is controversial. Brace yourselves.

I know this post is a bit late but I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I love my mother, I love my mother-in-law ( I do - I got very lucky in that department), I love my grandmother (I do!) and I love being a mother. But Mother's Day? Well, I still believe it is a Hallmark holiday. I am not going to rely on the lame "a mother should be celebrated every day" excuse because, I am not so sure my daily actions deserve a daily (or even weekly) celebration. A friend shared with me that she does not celebrate Mother's Day. And, after some thought, I am not so sure this is a bad idea. Let me explain: for most of us, this day involves a lot of running around. Coordinating between two or even three families, planning some kind of meal or two (since it is always about food) and, as mothers, also trying to celebrate our own day. My Mother's Day, was actually quite nice. CityBaby spent the night out at my parents so they brought him back Sunday morning for a light brunch. Then I lazed around until late afternoon where we headed over to my in-laws for dinner. No complaints, really. But I thought about all mothers who run around that day and then asked myself, what makes that different from the running around these mothers do the other six days of the week? Now do you see it? So, while I not suggesting you ignore your mothers, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, stepmothers or any other mothers you may have...just give it some thought.

How Do Your Weeds Grow?

I have a bit of a weed problem. And I mean this in the most honest, innocent of ways. Let's just address the elephant in the room - this has to do with my garden. Last year, I had this amazing, rich, grown-on-a-farm, $165/yard soil. It was decadent. This year, not so much. It starts with the fact that I cannot tell a weed from a plant. Imagine my excitement when I thought my cucumber plants had sprouted overnight? Now, imagine my disappointment when I was told, they were weeds. How is that weeds can grow overnight and the actually vegetable takes month? It's the gray hair syndrome. You pluck a weed and one grows back immediately in its place. I have diligently been out there every morning, plucking weeds. I hear it's great exercise which, while doing wonders for my daily cardio, is doing nothing for my self-esteem.

Gardener's Choice

I have started my garden. Well, it was started for me. A dirt delivery showed up here on Thursday with four tomato plants right behind it. My father, commonly known as my garden consultant, decided it was time to sow the land, so we did. It's our play-at-home version of a CSA. We planted four tomato plants. Big boy hybrids, to be exact. As you know last year's garden was a lesson in patience. Learned a lot. This year, my approach is less is more. I am sticking to the basics with a few wild cards. Besides the tomatoes, I plan to plant some romas since I love them, they are versatile and I still have some left over from last year in my freezer. Cucumbers, squash and zucchini are also on the list. My wild card? Arugula. I love it and want to try to plant it. My lettuce didn't grow last year, at all. But I think if I concentrate on the arugula I can get it to at least give me one crop. I am starting with all plants this year, no seeds. I need all the help I can get. And with less types of plants, I think I'll yield a better crop. I also started my herbs, too. Basil, parsley, rosemary, oregano and cilantro. My wild card there is mint. Great for tea, tzatiki and mojitos. A girl has got to have options. Now, off to find the perfect boots. Either these or these. It's all about the accessories, right?

Spring Has...Sprang

One thing I have learned living in Charleston is that if you blink, you miss spring. We go from 32 degrees right to mid-80s. OK, I am using hyperbole to prove a point. There are 2 weeks of enjoyable, tolerable, beautiful spring weather. But I must have blinked too fast because, here we are in summer. I haven't blogged in about 6 weeks, so here is a recap of how I spent the late winter, spring and early summer. Um, I really can't tell ya. There was some travel in there. I vaguely remember Atlanta. And, I had a great visit with a great friend. And, there's been all the usual stuff like schlepping and working. Passover was in there where I hosted 24 people and was up to my elbows in matzah. I also did some annual spring cleaning that usually coincides with Passover. And now my thoughts turn to summer and beach weekends and frizzy hair from humidity and AC and sunscreen. So long Spring.

Luck O' The Irish

I am not Irish. And, I don't believe in luck. In fact, I am often the one responding to a comment about luck by explaining that it's for a million other reasons why something happened. Maybe it's also why I have a complex relationship with Kabbalah. Anyway, I have a shamrock plant. I know. Mysteriously, it is the only plant I can take care of and it seems to thrive regardless of where we live and what I do or don't do, like water it. I believe this because it is a special shamrock plant. Legend has it that crazy Aunt Sally, on my father's side (and trust me, I know crazy and she was capital C crazy), smuggled this back from a trip to Ireland in the 60s. I'm willing to bet that's not all she smuggled back across international waters. Anyway, she brought this plant back home to New Jersey and nourished it. And when it got too big she gave everyone in her family clippings. She brought some to my grandmother, her sister, in Connecticut. She took some to California to their other sister. And, their 4th sister in Florida got some, too. I have fond childhood memories of my grandfather showing me how the leaves closed up at night and opened again in the morning sun. Eventually, my mother took a clipping and grew it in the kitchen of my childhood home. And, when it got unruly she would clip it back and repot the clippings until she had pots and pots of it growing. Then, when my brother and I grew up, she gave us each a potted plant. Passing on the tradition, I guess. And now it sits on my kitchen counter, thriving as it always has. I often ignore it and only remember to water it when I can see that the dirt is cracked and dry. And sometimes I'll clip (or rip) out the dry leaves. But again, it has to have been brought to my attention to do that. So, I suppose it is apropos that on St. Patrick's Day I play a little tribute to my plant, that started out in Ireland, made it's way to New Jersey and, in addition to sitting in houses all over the country, also sits in mine.

Happy Birthday, Anniversary, Whatever.....

The day after our 8th wedding anniversary, a card shows up in our mailbox. It is addressed to CityCrab only and had familiar writing. It was from Mama Ruth. She is usually good about remembering occasions. By this I mean, she never calls and you may get a card way before or way after the actual date. But there is always a check. Can't fault a woman for that. So, I open the card. (CityCrab and I have a reciprocal mail policy.) It screams Happy Birthday on the front. I open it up to see it is, in fact, a birthday card addressed to CityCrab with a $36 check. (For those of you wondering about the $36, it is double chai. It's a Jewish thing where the letter chai, which means life equates to the number 18 so it's "good luck" to give 18 or multiples of it. More kabbalah crap.) I flip the card over to read the masthead and, true to form, it is a card created by the Alzheimer's Association.

Side bar: Mama Ruth has never in her life bought a card. She is very generous and gives to lots of organizations who in turn send her cards for her generosity. So, you can expect cards from Hadassah, Cancer and Heart societies, Women's League Conservative Judaism (they actually have very nice cards) and Alzheimer's foundation. It's a personality quirk.

I put the card in the mail pile and go about my day. Around 4:30, I hear the phone ring back to back to back. That's the warning call. I don't know who it is but I know something is up. Caller ID reveals it is Mama Ruth sending out her signal. I call her back to find out she had CityCrab's birthday mistakenly written on her calendar (the free one from our local community school), on our anniversary date. I am relieved to find out that all the money she has given to the Alzheimer's association won't need to be used on her. She apologizes. Then she says, "Cash that check and I'll send you the balance." Why? Because nothing says Happy Anniversary like "I'll send you the balance."

Sportsmanlike Conduct

I am not a huge sports fan. I don't understand football. I think golf is boring (even if Tiger is playing) and I will only watch baseball if I am in a stadium with a hot pretzel and spicy mustard. Unless, of course, my alma mater men's basketball team is playing. As an undergraduate at Syracuse, I developed a flavor for college basketball. Back in the 90s, the team was fantastic and every home game was the best entertainment around. Since then I have followed my beloved Orangemen, through the good and bad. There was a championship in the late 90s and early 2000s. And, then there was the year we didn't even get a bid to the tournament. That was also the year I boycotted the tournament in solidarity. I have also become a bit superstitious. We started this season with a bang and as we slumped, I showed my support and pride by placing a picture of CityBaby in his Cuse garb. And, even though the picture is over a year old now, I have not taken it down. I am already making quiet requests to the basketball powers that be that we do not cross Butler's path. I have placed my orders at Manny's for the entire family (luckily we are autumns and orange is in our palette). I appreciate any help out there. So, if you don't have a team or you don't care, think Orange!

Otto thanks you, too!

Stage Mother

Some months ago, we had professional pictures taken of CityBaby. A local photography studio, Signature Photography, was offering a program that a donation to our local children's hospital would provide a studio session in exchange. It is a great cause and the studio is owned by a family friend. The pictures came out amazing. CityBaby was well behaved and compliant considering there were several costume changes. We were thrilled with everything.

Cut to yesterday. We receive a call from the studio. They wanted to know if we could bring CityBaby in for a shoot for some ads for a local campaign they want to run in newspapers, magazines, etc. Um, sure. When you an opportunity lands in your lap, you have to take it. The stars were aligned since it was President's Day and we had a whole day ahead of us.

Now, I would be lying if I didn't tell you that I thought my child was the most beautiful, well-behaved, smartest child in existence. And he gets it all from me, natch. But, realistically, I have never thought he could make it as a runway model and Milan is only on his itinerary as part of an international teen tour one day. Stage mother material, I am not. Yet, here I was taking direction from a photographer on what outfits to bring and what time to be there for a casting call. I hardly recognized myself when I threw a bunch of clothes in a shopping bag and hit the road. And, I pretty much had an out of body experience as I dressed him through three costume changes, combed down his cowlick and stood behind the photographer's lense making bird noises and telling him to laugh.

Maybe stage mother isn't such a stretch afterall.

Curious

Last year, I read about an art exhibit at The Jewish Museum in NYC. It was about Curious George. I was curious but I was also intrigued. Was George Jewish? Upon further investigation, I found out that George's creators, Margret and H. A. Rey were in fact Jewish. Interesting. Cut to one year later. I am downloading lots of Curious George books for CityBaby on my nook. Thanks to advancements in CRM, I am immediately served up all the Curious George books in existence (there are a lot!). One sticks out to me because it does not have the banana yellow cover. It is called Journey That Saved Curious George. It tells the story of how Margret & H.A., 2 Jews living in pre-WWII Germany, met, married, changed their names, traveled throughout Europe ahead of the Nazis with manuscripts and drawings of what would turn into the world of Curious George. A riveting story I recommend for anyone, curious or not.

Nook on the Road

Firstly, I'm happy to report that I am still in love with my Nook. I traveled this weekend and can say our love affair is hot and heavy It was so nice to just throw that slim, light notebook into my bag. My pre-trip ritual usually includes, not only the finding and packing of several books & magazines but, the emotional stress of deciding what kind of book or magazine I'll be in the mood for. I had to snicker when I saw CityCrab furiously rounding up his New Yorkers in an attempt to bring the ones he has yet to read. Usually, I end up with a bag that weighs close to 50lbs but I lightened my load. And, no surprise here, I have gotten over spending money on books again. I'm also over the typos.

Virtual Sadness

As a blogger, I have always made my way around the virtual world. I suppose it's just something bloggers do. We write and research and hunt and peck. I am a genuine person and there are very few people I consider friends. I don't have time or patience to be halfway in. Through the blog world, I have met some truly amazing people. One of these people is Stephanie Green. I am not even sure how I stumbled upon her blog but from the moment I read it, I was hooked. At the time, she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and I followed her story and her journey meeting her friends and family along the way. We never met or even actually talked but we exchanged emails and comments over the course of about 2 years. I even reached out to her when I was headed to Miami with no babysitter for CityBaby because I felt like I knew her. We had a laugh about the fact that both of our dogs were featured in our profiles pics wearing yarmulkes (freaks) and that we had similiar backgrounds. I found out today that after a valiant fight with a horrible disease she passed away at the young age of 35. I am ironically not feeling virtually sad at all. I am feeling actual sadness.

I've had my Nook for over a month now and I can report that I am pleased with it. I like the way it functions and most of my hesitations (battery life and weight) have subsided. My big issue is the quality of the transliterations of the books. Let me explain. Firstly, I am a grammar freak. It's all I can do to keep my mouth shut when someone says "supposeably" or "as long as" instead of "so long as." And, I am always adding "ly" to CityCrab's feeling. "I feel bad." Actually, you feel "badly." Secondly, I feel that a book with a typo should be discounted. Remember, before outlets and TJMaxx were the new retail and your grandparents would buy you a Ralph Lauren polo that had a tiny hole in the back of the collar and it was deal? They would never pay full retail for that shirt (or for anything else but that's another story.) So, why should pay full retail for a book that misspells "dollar" as "dolor." Just one of my many recent finds. My guess is that when they create the ebook version of a book, they run it through some machine that picks up the type. I can't imagine someone sitting there retyping the whole thing. Well, the machine is just not working, at least not for me. I know there's a disclaimer in every book that excuses the publisher from having to be accurate. But imagine how annoying to be distracted from the story by bad grammar. My high school teachers didn't put up with and neither should any of us.

Eat Pray Love

Eat Pray Love and I have a love/hate relationship. I never read the book when it came out. I would pass right by on it on a weekly basis in the NYT's Book Review. Wasn't for me. Then the author was everywhere in the press and TV. Then she was on Oprah and that clinched for me. (You know, everything she touches turns to GOLD!) So, in an attempt to get up to speed quickly, I listened to the audiobook. It is read by the author and there was something about her voice and they way she would pronounce the foreign terms in the perfect accent (a la Alex Trebek). The story however, I felt was contrived. Especially the Eat section. It was almost as though she forced herself to do things so that she could write about them. And, then I learned that she had pitched the concept to a publisher prior to her trip and received an upfront bonus for it. I felt cheated.

I finished the book and started a small obsession with meditation. I downloaded all kinds of apps and guides from iTunes. I tried it. I experienced all the things everyone says they experience. Instead of emptying my thoughts or concentrating, I would make a grocery list or to do list or fall asleep. I was a spiritual failure. Then the movie came out and everywhere I went I saw Julia's wide, toothy grin. I was annoyed. Then the movie became available for rent. Thanks to Netflix I was already paying a monthly fee for unlimited rentals, so I put it on the top of my queue. And, then it showed up in my mailbox one day. I filed it with the rest of the mail and kinda ignored it. Then one day I had a hole in my day. No husband, dog or baby. No laundry or grocery shopping. No nothing. So, I put it in. And watched it. I was completely swept up in it. I thought I could do anything. I thought I could meditate and eat and travel and live in hovels. I thought I was Julia Roberts. And, then I looked in the mirror. Oh, that damn mirror. I felt cheated all over again. And, that's why we have a love hate relationship.

Konflicted No More

And on the 7th night of Chanukah, I took the plunge. Or, rather CityCrab did it for me. I received the Nookcolor. I had done thorough research and while I am a diehard Amazon fan (and will continue to be), I felt the Nook offered everything I wanted at the right price. The color was what really won me over. Or rather, the color at that price point. Sure, the kindle is a little lighter. But I'm making due. I've spent the last few days playing with it and while I have lots to learn about, I am happy to report I am an ereader convert.

December Dilemma

It was inevitable. And it happened today. We were in Target in the return line and I was pleading with CityBaby to stand still and stop fidgeting. I know the Target return line is the last place he wanted to be but it had to be done. I was employing one of my great parenting skills: bribery. I can't recall the exact words but it was something along the lines of: if you stop and behave, I will buy you a toy. Yep, that was it. Exactly. So, the kind woman in the Christmas sweater in front of me turned around and smiled at us and looked down at CityBaby and said, "you must have been a good boy to get a toy." Then it happened in a blink of an eye. It was like the vase that is falling off the table. You see it in slow motion and run to catch it, but you can't get there fast enough to stop it from smashing all over the floor.

"What did you ask Santa for, you good little boy?"

And, there it was. All over the floor, a million pieces of glass.

CityBaby looked up at her, with this quizzical look on his face that quickly turned to a blank stare. Oy. I smiled weakly. One of those "I didn't hear what you said but I am going to act like I did" smiles. Luckily, the next cashier was open and she was called away. I exhaled.

I guess the good thing is that he didn't wish her "Happy Chanukah." Or say "Who's Santa?" or "What is Santa?" or tell her something way worse.

I came home and made a note on a post-it that reads "Discuss Christmas."

Cuppa Tea, Love?

A little known fact about me is that I know how to make a proper cup of tea. I was schooled in this by a British friend. When the weather turns cold and crisp, tea becomes a frequent treat for me.

The water must not be boiled but rather brought up to just before boiling. A good indication is when the kettle starts to emit lots of steam and the water is just starting to bubble. Pour just a little water, a spot, if you will, of water into the tea pot and roll it around so the pot warms. Toss this water. Place loose tea leaves into the pot and pour in the water directly from the kettle. Let it steep 3-5 minutes. Here is the pivotal part: place a small strainer over the cup and pour the tea through the strainer. It'll catch all the loose tea and leave you with a smooth cup of warm tea. You can add milk. I don't. Best enjoyed with biscuits. That's cookies to you neophytes.

A few notes:

I had trouble finding the perfect strainer and was lucky enough to receive one from abroad. The one I use is a Masterclass. It is the perfect size and mesh size. Amazon has a bunch of different types available.

I have been enjoying loose tea for a few years now. I used to visit Urbana in Charlotte. And now get my tea from Earthfare, where it is sold in bulk. I like green, rooibos and black tea.

I never eat biscuits or cookies or biscotti or finger sandwiches with my tea.

My tea set is very traditional. Bodum also makes great pots and cups, too.

And, lastly, if you are looking for an authentic and fun tea experience, should you find yourself in London, visit The Berkley for their Fashionista afternoon tea. It is adorable and the biscuits mimic the latest fashions by the hottest designer. Think edible Alexander McQueen, Zac Posen and Louboutin.

Cheerio!