Blog, Shmog: Today an Interview

People, thank you for joining us today for this very special interview. After the very disappointing US withdrawal from the Paris Accord, I asked both Mother Earth and mr t to join me, over a nice babka (delicious cake) and coffee, to answer just a few questions. I hope you all find this informative and provides you all with the strength you need to take action.

Q: Do you believe in climate change?

A: Mother Earth Are you kidding me? I am one hot momma, schvitzing (sweating my ass off) like the ‘mother of all menopausal hot flashes.’ Mara Lago, you will be the first to enter the drink as my own sweat forces your little southern white house under the Atlantic. And remember mr t, hurricane season, she just started! Nu? I’m just sayin’. Can you please pass me a glass of water. Vey iz mir (Woe is me), I am parched.

A: mr t I would just like to say, America first. That’s all. That’s why you hired me. And I did win. Did you see those crowds at the inauguration? Biggest crowds to date. Very big crowds. I won.

Q: Why on fucking earth would you pull out from an accord (not legally binding) designed to voluntarily make the world a better, stronger, safer and healthier planet for all in the future?

A: Mother Earth It’s obvious this horrible excuse for a man is a shlemiel (someone who is useless, clueless, inept). 

A: mr t Global warming, climate change, whatever you people call it is all a Chinese-inspired hoax, you know, by the Chinese. Not Americans. America first. I won.

Q: How does it feel to be condemned by world leaders near and far?

A: Mother Earth Smart, he isn’t. My wish for him is that may all his teeth should fall out, except for one. And in that one tooth, he should have a toothache! And may that toothache be a preexisting condition. That should be his tsuris (troubles). 

A: mr t They are all just jealous of my business skills and good looks. I know a bad deal and this was a bad deal. Very bad deal. And, since I won, I can do whatever I want to. And I will erase everything that Obama did. Because I’m a racist, and my life and my deep pockets matter most. And I am the best looking of all the world leaders. Best looking by far. And I won.

Q: How can you explain all of the horrible, tragic storms, massive floods, and hottest temperatures on record? 

A: Mother Earth — Du kanst nicht oif meinem fus pishen und mir sagen klass es regen ist. Don’t pee on my foot and tell me it’s raining. Even your first lady-daughter, Ivanka, her nogudnik, gonif (a man of shady character) of a husband, President Jared, and oil maven, Tex-Rex Tillerson wanted you to stay in the deal. I bet they watched from inside, in the air-conditioning, since they were absent at the Rose Garden. 

A: mr t — Everyone knows I am right. This is a big, very big hoax. All of you countries, all 187 of you, got together, just to make the US, which I love so much, economically feeble. Do you see how many syllables are in the word economically? The leaders of the world, they will all come begging to sit at my table and talk to me about a new deal. The art of the deal. It will be the American Accord. We are the best, and I won. Coal is clean. Coal is good. Oil is clean. Oil is good. I speak for Pittsburgh. Boo Paris. I won. The Pittsburgh Accord. 

Q: Is there anything either of you would like to add to the conversation today?

A: Mother Earth — Climate change is not a bubbe-meiseh (old wives tale). It is real and the outcome can be catastrophic. Just remember, no one is as deaf as the one who will not listen. And, let me add, just because you can talk, it doesn’t mean you’re making sense. How many ‘once in a lifetime’ storms will plague our earth before you see what we are doing? 

A: mr t — The deal is not fair. I won. And, I would just like to say, America first. That’s all. That’s why you hired me. And I did win. Did you see those crowds at the inauguration? Biggest crowds to date. Very big crowds. I won.

Well. That was… yes, it was. Thank you, Mother Earth, and mr t for coming today. I must go now and march in a rally for ending gun violence. Never before have I had so many opportunities to show up and support so many causes. Oy vey… (OMG)

Zei gezunt. Be healthy, be well. 

Please.

     

     

A Midsummer Day and Night’s Performance

Big and her buds, preparing before the show.

This past weekend, my kinder (children) participated in our annual tradition, the Dance Recital. All year long, my shana maidelehs (sweet girls) have been studying ballet, and Big has added jazz to her repertoire. My Mrs., she too was central to the studies, as the chief shlepper (hauler, dragger) and nosherie (snack provider) to our mini prima’s.

If you can ever imagine me, at my very happiest space, it’s watching my kinder do what they love, and they do love to dance, in full regalia on stage. Kvelling (beaming with pride) and grinning until my punim (face) hurts, I am. It’s the tahkeh (absolute, certain) truth.

This year, the Wissahickon Dance Academy presented Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The choreography was so beautiful. The talent, remarkable. They really put on an awesome production. After, all of the other forms of dance performed. Jazz, hip-hop, tap, modern — it was naches (the satisfaction gained from life’s gifts) for everyone in the audience.

Last night, I asked my kinder about the show and what A Midsummer Night’s Dream was about. Here is what they said:

Little: It’s about a donkey and an umm, queen and a king. And what was Z in the second show? Oh yeah, the queen’s daughter. And a man who turns into a donkey and fairies and umm, and an umm, wood sprites. ‘Cause that’s what (Big) was, a wood sprite. I liked when the donkey, who was really Jakiel, eats the grass and when he was really funny with the audience.

Big: So there’s a Queen, Titania, and she has a husband and they get in a big fight. Puck comes and, the husband, he asked Puck if he can borrow these magic flowers that if you sprinkle them on someone, the first person they see, they will fall in love with. You have to do it to people only while they are asleep. And so, he umm, he did it on Titania — sprinkled the flower stuff. And then, these actors come out, and Puck grabs one of them and gives him a donkey head. He (the Donkey) scares all the actors away. And then, he accidentally trips over Titania. She wakes up and falls in love with the donkey because of the flower magic. She was supposed to fall in love with her husband, but they had a big fight about their daughter. Then, I know! They both (Titania and the Donkey) go to sleep and then the husband has the magic flower and he sprinkles it on Titania and she wakes up and falls madly in love with him again. Puck comes on and takes the donkey head away, and that is all I know. Ohhh, and the whole thing, it was the Donkey-headed guy’s dream! That’s why he scratched his head at the end.

I asked them, what was the best part of being in the recital?

Big: I just love dancing. I liked the flowers on my costume, and I liked how the bottom was like a tutu, and I liked the wings.

Little:  I really like twirling, twirling a lot.

The littles of the elementary ballet! Too cute, these kinder!

In Act II, my Little, she danced with her elementary ballet class to Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty. Big, she was an orphan in Annie, dancing with her class in jazz 1 to, Hard Knock Life

Big: I loved it. It was fun because I love Annie, I love that song, it is fun to pretend to be orphans and that dance is just fun.

Little: My dance was from sleeping beauty. I don’t know what it was about, but I got to twirl. I liked the roses on my costume and twirling. I liked when (Big) danced with the bucket and slammed it on the floor too.

All in all, I was beaming. And for two shows, a couple of hours each, I actually forgot about the mishegas (craziness) that is happening in our world. Such a simcheh (joyous occasion) I wish for all of you!

Thank you for letting me go on about my kinder today.

       

      

      

      

 

No harm, no fowl

“My work here is never done…”

Spring is here and it’s beautiful dog walking weather. I love being outside with the family, proudly walking our crazy, loud, barking, pulling, misbehaved, and foraging boychik (little boy) and grabbing some extra vitamin D. Something I’ve noticed since Gatsby arrived to rescue our family, we constantly come across what seems to me, to be a gratuitous amount of chicken bones. Legs, wings, breasts, thighs… you name it and Gatsby will find them. One can only begin to understand my love for this furry family member, as I extract his foul, fowl finds from deep within the clenches of his canines. Disgusterous, as the BFG would say.

I would not be surprised at all, to find that our building and the surrounding homes, were built atop what was once, some sort of chicken cemetery. If you just go by the gross numbers of very gross bones per walk, per day — something just doesn’t add up. Storms, wind, digging, and these bones surface.  It’s haunting in a ‘Carol Ann, don’t go near the light’ kind of way. Often we, and by we, I mean Gatsby, finds grilled chicken breasts. There is often an assortment of accompanying sauces. And dare I say it, side dishes. WTF? Has Colonel Sanders gone AWOL? Has Frank Perdue gone cuckoo?

What if there is a chicken serial killer on the loose? And my Gatsby, with a nose for a nice nosh (little something to snack on), can’t help but uncover truth and justice for all. Law and Order: Poultry, live, right here in my neighborhood. The Capon Capers. Benson and Stabler, I need you here at Johnson and Greene, and bring that trained squad of detectives that focus primarily on putrid poultry misconduct.

Keeping my glass half-full, it is possible that we are constantly on the same frigging, filthy path as some unfortunate young travelers, who leave behind banty, barnyard fowl bones and scraps to find their way back home, like Hansel and Gretel. My Gatsby, sweet little man, is probably just doing his best sleuthing in an effort to help these lost kinder (children)?

“I smell chicken…”

It is possible that while wearing my pollyanna, rose-tinted sunglasses, someone is leaving behind the cock-a-doodle-doo trail until we find the magic wishbone? Gatsby’s mania for mystery may be a search the answers to our dreams? My lanky, long-legged, detective dog, is just trying his best to look out for our family. What a good boy!

You see, in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to believe that my neighborhood has gone afoul in dreck (trash, litter). Thankfully, after a year now, I can sternly let out a geshrei (scream) for Gatsby, “Drop it!” and he does. So does everyone else around me… maybe that’s why there are so many bones? Oy vey! (OMG!)

And this Yiddish Proverb, words to live by, if you are Gatsby:

A chicken dinner is best shared by two people. Me and the chicken. A hindl mitog iz bester sherd durkh tsvey mentshn. Mir aun di hindl.

What a good boy!

     

      

     

      

 

Resilience and Observations

Stop and see the beauty in your life… I will do this more

Getting over fighting Beelzebub was tough stuff. Losing, maybe hell, effing yeah a bissel (a little bit) worse. It has already taken up a lot of time, effort, energy and wellness for me, my Mrs., my kinder (kiddo’s) and the wonderful people who were helping me scrimmage. Still, my glass, it stays half-full. If there was an award for, ‘Most Resilient,’ this one would definitely go to me. Knock me down, and I come right back up again. Spunk, integrity, and Energizer Bunny. Pliant, flexible and rebellious. That’s me.

In this latest round of rebound, I am working on being present and mindful. Here are five things that I have noticed in myself

  • Currently, I can go batshit crazy frustrate easily. I’m aware of this and determined not to take it out on others. But, no lie, I have channeled my inner Mohammed Ali, and I punched the roof of my car when driving this week (technically, I was at a red light). Like texting, no punching and driving. Not at all smart. This helps no one. Not my hand, not the car. Not my emotions.

In Yiddish, they say, Bad temper and anger, they shorten the years. Der ka’as un der tsoren farkirtsen di yoren.

So, I must do more tai chi and learn to meditate. Stat! Plus, the anger is just sadness in disguise.

Tai Chi during sunrise, good. Punching roof of the car, bad.
  • Sleep, not so hotsy-totsy. I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Staying asleep — a whole other animal! I get up to pee. I try to make my way back into bed. I have to push aside a Little or a Big, who has usurped my precious, yet small mattress real estate yes they are all in the bed, and I am at the very edge, practically outside the apartment. Reclaim my swatch of the blanket. Find my special neck pillow. By the time I do this, Gatsby, he makes his way over with his waggity tail and kissy, shana punim (face).  I finally try to get my head to the pillow and arrange my neck in good fashion. Don’t you know, now my brain, it begins to churn with thoughts and activity. With this, I am hopeful that this Yiddish Proverb holds true:

Kirtser geshlofen, lenger gelebt. Translated to, The less you sleep, the more you get out of life. 

A nice positive spin on fricking insomnia. Nu? Leave it to Yiddish! Oh, how I love this juicy language!

  • If you (and by you, I, of course, mean me) experience a hot flash while blow-drying your hair as I did today, it feels as though you are sitting in a steam room, grabbing a nice shvitz (sweat), while doing hot yoga (like my Mrs.) inside a convection oven, in August, in Florida. The hair simply will not dry (it re-wets itself from the inside, underneath, out!) I am more than a little concerned — It is quite possible, that me, and me alone — I am responsible for global warming. Forget the cows farting methane.  “THIS GIRL IS ON FIRE” is my anthem! She’s just a girl and she’s on fire… Oy vey! (OMG!) How does Alicia Keyes know so much about me? Nu? PS, this was lovely during winter.

A fool doesn’t age and cold water doesn’t spoil. A nar vert nit elter un kalteh vasser vert nit kalyeh.

Yiddish! Beautiful… a phrase for every life moment!

  • I am slowly reconnecting with the people that I have knowingly detached from —  my own feelings of shame and self-worth caused this silence. And what I have learned this week, a friend is a friend is a friend, as a rose by any other name, would be a rose… If you haven’t heard from me yet, you will. Or if you call, I will answer, and explain the battle that has tied me up.

To fall down, you manage alone but it takes friendly hands to get up. Falen falt men alain, ober oifsuhaiben zikh darf men a hant fun a freind.

Thank you dear friends. ❤

Oh how we have fun with SnapChat. And my Mrs., oh how she laughs!
  • Nothing, and I mean bupkis (nothing) makes me happier than seeing my family happy and hearing their laughter. Those priceless giggles that stem from deep inside, fill my heart with joy and simultaneous calm. I must crack the code on this one, bottle it and imbibe daily. And if I do? I will share the tonic.

Happy mamas, and an easy upbringing. Freylekhe mames, un a gringe hodevaniye. 

So true!

And I continue to move onward! Karma will win in the end. It must! As for resilience, I must figure out the lesson to be learned here. It’s a bit tiring to keep reinventing the wheel.

An ounce of luck is worth more than a pound of gold. Besser a loit mazel aider a funt gold.

      

   

My morning Boy

Umm, hello? Are we going outside, or what?

Shana punim (beautiful face)

Who could say no to this face?

You know there is a Yiddish proverb for Gatsby:

Lozn a hunt aoyf a shtul aun er vet shpringen afn tish.  Allow a dog on a chair and he’ll jump on the table.

 

Dear onabotulinumtoxinA, I really miss you

It’s been some seven months or so since we last, well, hooked- up. You, me, Doc M., the hospital. It was, well, magical! I know you felt it too. You, so helpful, so giving. I miss your touch. That extraordinary effect you have over me.

For those of you not in the know, I’m talking about Botox. Not the ‘wrinkle-relaxer’ to iron-out the multitude of well-earned, effin’ lines that surround my mouth and eyes kind of Botox. Oh no, I’m speaking of the genius who figured out that if you inject actual botulism, a poison, strategically and methodically into the muscles of people like me who suffer chronic pain (cervical dystonia, and occipital neuralgia), it will deaden the pain. Deaden the pain. Three such beautiful words.

May you never experience such pain and troubles. Ir zolt mir nit visn fun ken tzar un tsuris.

Botox, you quiet my nerve signals, as they are effed up not so hotsy-totsy. When they are screaming to my brain, “OUCH, spasm, contract, OUCH,” your prickly approach allows my body to function, to feel like me. With you, I like me. Without you in my life, the pain gets so unbearable, that the contents of my body empty completely.  Yes, both north and south partner up on this exercise in exhaustive depletion. This, in turn, causes dehydration, additional spasms, contractions, and OUCHES! Not the big-O I am seeking.

onabotulinumtoxinA, Botox, your injectables, make me closer to fine. You complete me. The biggest problem in our relationship — what most people fight over, gelt (money). The dreaded pharma co-pay. You see, your precious vials, while worth every cent my love, cost $1200. Since insurance makes us ‘go dutch,’ our chance encounters run $600 USD.  Together, we need Dr. M. and his wise, slow hands. The best neurologist a tier 3 kind of practice according to insurance, even though he is in my effing network in the city of brotherly love unites us. The ambiance of our darkened medical suite, the cost of the tincture, the scent of the isopropyl alcohol — can you hear the clamorous Ka-ching that distances us?

Don’t worry about it! Zok nit kin vey!

This is how my Mrs. and me, we approached this dilemma for the first nine months. Feel better. Life will be good. Until those credit card bills come thudding through the post. You or groceries, school, rent, life. It’s too expensive to exist. That puts our union, our relationship, in the varbotn (forbidden) category. This is not the frugalista, Yiddisheh momma speaking. This is a true pharmaceutical reality that divides our picture-perfect match. We are no better than the Montagues and the Capulets. A star-crossed pair. A schadchen (marriage broker) couldn’t make me a better match, find me a better find.

So, my dear Allergan, this is an open plea for help. You, your Botox! It works, I am your advocate! Your ambassador. A walking, talking example of Botox in action when I am lucky enough to be under your spell. Help me help you to help me feel better. I can be a better mama, a better spouse, a better worker, a better activist, a better all around human being on the planet. Your unique power to deaden the pain in quarterly injectable, installments, is no less than miraculous. No heavy opioid side effects. Instant ability to operate heavy machinery and make important life decisions. With you by my side, the pain, she is very manageable. Sleep is greatly improved. Appetite is back. Together with my occipital stimulator,  I can almost consider myself to be, dare I even say it,  N – O- R – M – A – L. 

Allergan, Botox, Dr. M., hospital. Until we all meet again. There is no shame here. Only love.

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”   William Shakespear, Romeo and Juliet

Zie gezunt. Be healthy. Be well. 

 

     

      

      

Stick-to-it-iveness

Doggedness as defined Gatsby. And like I always say, my glass is half full. Nu?

Sometimes, you just have to do the work, to get what you want.  mal ir nor hobn tsu ton di arbet tsu bakumen vos ir viln.

My Gatsby, this boychik (little man) can persevere. You know that with the flick of a tongue, that pea was his. He worked hard for it. He did not mind the struggle. He was tenacious and he succeeded.

May we all have such a work ethic, as our boy Gatsby!

I’ve got it. Do you? Tell me!

 

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I AM WOMAN, the musical

Nu? This mr t, he has me farklempt (all choked up) with his evil and hatred. Not too long ago, I wrote a post, I AM WOMAN HEAR MY VOICE. Well, I’ve taken it to the stage folks. Please, bear with my (awful) voice as I stumble through my own, personal feminist anthem.

Please feel free to sing along. If only to cover up my voice! Vey iz mir…I’m meshuggeneh (crazy), but I am so motivated to peacefully make a change. Because Never Again, is now folks. 

Great big hugs and love to Mackenzie for her gorgeous participation and support! And Kristin, where would I be without the bug you put in my ear? And to all of you brave, men, women and children who showed up, and continue to show up in protest. That’s what I’m sayin.’
Why’d I do it? Well, I am trying hard to teach my kinder (little kids) to be brave, not perfect.
Hey, mr t, I Am Woman, and you, little orange man, are going to have to deal with that!
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The Great Gatsby

“I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”
“I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

No dear friends, this is not the one by Fitzgerald. Not a cast of characters living in lavish mansions in the fictional town of West Egg, Long Island. No prosperity, debutantes, elaborate parties, or even idealism.

Our Great Gatsby, he does have many parallels. He is quixotic as his namesake, contains obsessions by us humans of our furry, four-legged boychik (little boy) and his unconditional love of us, decadence, after all, he is the boy king in our little apartment castle, and he holds the American Dream of finding love. And as for the cast of Characters, you have me, the Mrs., Big and Little, living life in the Manor and working our asses off to reclaim our slice of the pie.

“If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him.”
“If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
"My life has got to be like this, it's got to keep going up."
“My life has got to be like this, it’s got to keep going up.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.”
“I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”
“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Handle every stressful situation like a therapist. If you can’t eat or play with it, pee on it and walk away.  Shepn yeder stressful situatsye vi a terapist. Aoyb ir kenen nisht esn oder shpiln mit im, nor pi aoyf es aun geyn avek.

Gatsby, our little rescue boy, saved us as well.

In dog we trust.

 

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The date night we stole, right in our own home :)

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Today dear readers, I share with you a bissel (little) geshikte (story). Last Friday, on my drive home, I called my Mrs. with passion and enthusiasm for a fun-filled weekend, only to be greeted with a flattened voice, you know the kind I mean. The tone alone spoke volumes, expressing how, “I should have known to come home hours ago to take care of these meshuggeneh kinder (crazy kids) of MINE.” I hung up the phone, I knew I had to pull out some big stops in order to inflate the deflated love of my life. What to do? This was winter doldrums mixed with too much news and reality — she had a terrible case of the election dejections

Flowers? Too expensive for the outcome. The smile would be fleeting, and they would, well, d-i-e. More sadness we did not need. Chocolate? Ice cream? Too much risk involved in me being the bearer of the sweets…oy vey (WTF!). I was almost home.

I turned into the Manor, pulling my up every ounce of creativity from my frugal induced brain. Wait, I know! Friday night is movie night in our home. After dinner we snuggle in our pj’s and all watch a movie usually the same effing kid movie, chosen after a long, drawn out, award winning tantrum from both Big and Little on who picked last, buttery popcorn smells wafting through the air. Blankets and hugs. I walk in and announce:

“Tonight! Tonight my little maidelehs (sweet girls), Mommy has a great idea!” This movie night will be extra special! You two get to watch your very own movie on the big screen, and Ema and I, we will watch a ‘mommy movie’ in our room!

Only the faintest hint of a smile was let out by my Mrs. It was subtle, like the Mona Lisa, only less so, but I know I saw it. In unison, these girls let out a geshrei (loud, piercing scream), you would think I told them a shreklickheh (horrible, terrible) thing, like there is no Santa Claus, or ‘we’ are the tooth fairy. The waterworks and the screams together — What were the neighbors thinking? My plan did not account for such a reaction. The Mrs., she walked off in a sullen sidestep as I tried my best to quiet the teeny, mighty troops.

After finally convincing them that we are only six (6) inches away, separated only by a thin uninsulated wall, they gave us a brokkheh (blessing). Finally, I had heart palpatations for a good reason!

My Mrs., she questioned a stifled, should we really do this? I said f*ck yes! The kinder are learning everything about relationships through ours. If we don’t model how we need alone time, that we value alone time, what kind of relationships will they have? And where will ours go? She nodded, we hugged. The kinder watched us, tried to listen. I said, “Zugg gornisht! Der kinder!” (Shush. The kids can hear us!)

We ate, cleaned, popped, buttered, salted, and split ways. What did Elsa sing in Frozen?  “For the first time in forever…” echoed excitedly in my ears.

We headed to the bedroom. It had been soooooo long, the tv could no longer locate the chromecast do-hickey. I struggled with our looming IT issues. Rebooted the cable router, flipped the switches on and off. Unplugged and re-plugged. I heard the loud sound of the clock ticking away in my ears. We finally grabbed a laptop, signed in to Netflix and had time enough left to watch episode 1 of, The Crown. 

We snuggled, we smiled, Little and Big kept running in to check on us, as we watched a show for big people. The kinder, they giggled and laughed at our selection. We smiled and hugged and watched on. It was a wonderful evening after all. The girls felt empowered, we felt like ‘we’ mattered, and my Mrs., she had a really beautiful smile as we snuggled closely.

Guess what my friends, today is Friday! 🙂

And to you, my Mrs., Ich hob dir lieb! (I love you!)

 

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My Sunday Photo: We know how to play!

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My Little, she loves her Gatsby so. This was going on this Sunday morning. That is joy!

Not everyone the dog barks at is a thief.  Nit yederer oif vemen hunt bimen iz a ganev. 

A barking dog never bites. A hunt vos bily bayst nit.

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Just felt like sharing this…

Three of my favorite people… Ellen, Michelle and Barack

Three mensches (decent humans, good people, the ultimate compliment) that truly changed my life

Three minutes that are so worth watching

The people above, they provide me with a Licticheh punim (a smiling, beaming, happy face)

And as for the new gonif (thief) we must live with, I offer this famous Yiddish proverb:

He should turn into a chandelier, so he’ll hang by day and burn by night. Megulgl zol er vern in a henglaykhter: bay tog zol er hengen un bay nakht zol er brenen.

Because, if you can’t say something nice, say it in Yiddish!

M’wah!

 

Mary Tyler Moore taught me the “F” word

You're gonna make it after all...
You’re gonna make it after all…

Yes, she did. The ‘F’ word in question is feminist, and she was the first  feminist for this alta kocker (old fart) of a baby boomer, to witness and learn from, on TV. She very easily and seamlessly showed the world, and young madelahs (girls) like me yes I was a young kinder, that you can be a woman and do things differently. It was okay.

As a little pisher (kid), I grew up admiring and dreaming of becoming ‘Mary Richards.’ I know, you’re thinking, Mary, she’s a shiksah (non-jew) with a cute little turned up nose… and me, a Yiddisheh momma? Well, at the start of every episode, she tossed that hat up into the air, and knew, she was ‘gonna make it after all.’  She was a smart, single woman in the ’70’s, living alone and carrying a big job at WJM-TV. She demanded respect, and was incredibly kind. A true mensch (good person). Once, she bumped into her desk, and actually said, “excuse me.” I’ve done that. Really! I have channeled Mary Richards and her kindness, and I have brought the Rule of Kind to our home.

I remember the very first episode, when she interviewed for the job of TV producer. Mr. Grant (Ed Asner) was giving her a real tough time and she flat-out stood her ground and stated that he should be asking her about her qualifications, not her personal life. Zing! Ah-ha moment. Click. Save.

Over the seven years her show spanned, she taught me about equal pay (and we are still fighting that fight) for women in the workplace, birth control, being single and having sex, not conforming to society’s view of women — married with children, dressing differently (yes, the very first member of the pantsuit nation), mixing skirts, dresses, and pants in her wardrobe both for work and for play. All the while, I baby sat and ich macht a labent (made a living), as pint-sized pishers did. Click. Save.

As I mourn Mary Tyler Moore, and Mary Richards, I sure hope she meets up with Chuckles the Clown in the big TV studio in the sky. Perhaps one of the funniest episodes ever, Chuckles Bites the Dust, where Mary really lost her sh*t couldn’t contain herself. He worked down the hall from the studio and was killed by a rogue elephant when he was dressed as Peter Peanut. The gang kept relentlessly making jokes and Mary was appalled. Then at the actual funeral, the sermon began it finally hit her and she laughed louder and heartier then ever before. It was comedic genius and showed fear of the ever after simultaneously.

*Video courtesy of You Tube

Mary, wherever you are, I hope you can laugh. For your life looked easy to us, but it was much harder than ever imagined. Go find Chuckles, and laugh, and know that you made a real difference in the world that is so very important today, especially today, in 2017. RIP MTM, and thank you for your wisdom, comedy, and insight.

The only true dead, are tose who have been forgotten.  di bloyz ams toyt, zenen di vas hobn shoyn fargesn. 

Long live on Mary…

L’Chiam! To Life!

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A girl can dream, nu?

I wish... I wish...
I wish… I wish…

Color me a baby boomer, but I can’t help but wonder if we wouldn’t be in this mess if The Love Boat and Fantasy Island were still on TV. I mean, that’s were all of the ‘B’ rated celebs went off to, right? Nu?

Folkh mikh a gayng! Like that’s gonna happen!

Well Mr. T-elect, as you think about repealing the Affordable Care Act for me and my twenty million friends who rely on it, I offer you this lovely and wise Yiddish proverb:

May all your teeth fall out, except for one. And in that one, you can have a tooth ache.

May ale deyn tseyn faln aoys, akhuts far eyn. Aun in az eyner, ir kenen hobn a tson veytik.

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Oh. Oh. Uh-oh.

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This is Lisa.

Lisa suffers from very bad pain in her neck.

You can’t always tell. She hides it very well.

Lisa has chronic occipital neuralgia.

Poor Lisa.

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Her kinder (children), they like to walk dance on Lisa’s (mommy’s) back to help her.

This feels so good for Mommy.

Such good kinder they are!

Lisa loves her kinder so much.

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This is the Mrs. with our kinder.

The Mrs., she is so good to Lisa.

The Mrs. rubs her neck and back for her when she is in horrible pain.

Lisa loves the Mrs. so much.

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This is Gatsby.

Gatsby is a good little boychik (boy).

While the Mrs. rubs Lisa’s neck, Gatsby chews.

What a good boy Gatsby is!

Lisa loves the Great Gatsby so much!

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Oh. Oh.

Uh-oh.

Gatsby chewed Lisa’s glasses while the Mrs. rubbed her neck and back.

Gatsby ate the sides and broke through the lenses with his puppy teeth.

Gatsby is a mischievous boychik (boy).

Lisa loves her very adorable, yet mischievous boy Gatsby, very much.

Even with this killer watch dog, those thugs came after us!

Poor Lisa.

Lisa’s glasses are dreck (crap) now.

Lisa’s glasses make everything look as if she is looking through a snow globe.

How nice of Gatsby to make everything Lisa looks at, look like she is looking through a snow globe.

 

Oif tsalochis. As luck would have it… Lisa is tardy for a trip to the ophthalmologist.

What a good boy Gatsby is!

Zie gezunt! Be healthy, be well!

 

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Minimalism is Fun: Take a look

Okay, so in 2017 I (hopefully we) have replaced ‘Frugalism’ for ‘Minimalism.’ It admittedly has a nicer sound, nu? You agree? Frugalism has such a negative connotation – as if one is a tightwad. Minimalism and its glorious way, appears to offer more of a choice, well at least to me. In fact, there still is no choice. It’s what’s gotta be…

So, in a pure minimalistic bent, take a look at a beautiful outing with friends, to IKEA of all places. For those of you who have kinder (children) and don’t know, IKEA is the poor person’s Disney World. Admission is free. Climate is always appropriate. Each room brings with it a new and exciting adventure to explore, pretend and play. Whether mattress hopping, imagining living or working in each showroom, or playing hide and go seek in the ‘grab it yourself’ warehouse, it is fun for all ages.

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Oh, and ice cream (which is really frozen yogurt) is only $1. Add to the fact that on Monday through Friday, kids eat (meals, entire meals, nice meals) for free… And in this past year, they have taken that famous Swedish meatball and turned it all millennial! Yes, it now comes in a gluten free, vegan version! This is no joke!

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What is not to love about IKEA? Keep your glass half full and take a nice visit.

If time is money, I don’t have any time. Oyb tsayt iz gelt, hob ikh keyn tsayt nit.

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I’m feeling a little ‘Pre-Inaugeral,’ You?

This picture illustrates how I feel post election, pre-inaugeral. Yes. I'm definitely a little pre-inaugeral.
This picture illustrates how I feel. Pre-inaugeral. Yes. I’m definitely a little ‘pre-inaugeral.’ I’d like to be re-inaugeral.

“Are we going to lose our insurance with Mr. t-elect,” The Mrs. said as she sobbed into the phone.

“Honey. We may. But at least we know they will offer free conversion therapy!”  (whaaah – whaaaaah)

“No really, it’s a shanda (real shame, scandal) what can happen. It’s starting already.”

 

“What does ‘pre-inaugeral’ feel like?”

It’s like, you know.  When you look at at him and his cabinet. You see a crowd of people, and not one person among them. A groyse oylem un nito uyn mentsch.

 

“Are you going to watch it, next week?”

“I thought a lot about this. Yes. I must. Nancy Pelosi says it is her job to be there. Hillz will be there. I must watch. I must know.  It is history. Who would have believed it? Ver dolt dos gegleybt?”

 

“Will we be okay?”

“If the world will ever be redeemed, it will be only through the merit of the children. Oib de velt vet verren oisgelaizt, iz es nor in zechus fun kinder.”

 

Here we go.  A bi gezunt. As long as you are healthy.

 

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To the moon, and back again

A little break on the way to the Tolerance Statue
A little break on the way to the Tolerance Statue

In this space, many a time, I have spoken ill of my kinder (children) and their need to gai schluffy (go to sleep) on their own and in their own room. Last night, the first sleep over of 2017, had our Little and Big’ with their own Little E. and Big M.’ in tow. Sibling birthed besties! Literally, friends ‘in/out of utero,’ ‘of/for a lifetime.’

Let me preface this bubba meisah (a bit of a tall story) with the fact anecdotal evidence that up until now, and for three short months shy of nine years, the Mrs. and me have been a part of some irrational scientific lab experiment on sleep deprivation. I gotta say, our ‘sleep banks’ and our ‘regular banks’ are probably equally underprovided…

I have so many girls to look after!
I have so many girls to look after!

Knowing that our Little shana madelah was going to be the cause of the majority of any anticipated schluffy tsuris (sleep trouble), we started our adventure with our first hike of 2017. We had two cars, 4 girls 8 and under, and Gatsby (a barking meshuggeneh boychik on a leash) and headed off for the beautiful trails of the Wissahicken. A little fresh air, a new trail and a New Year! Surely we were finding our true north early in the year. We chose to head over to the Tolerance Statue, Mr. William Penn himself, in full-marbleized regalia. 2017 is going to need a lot of ‘tolerance,’ more than usual given the unfortunate circumstances of our hacked democracy. The weather was perfect, the lighting gorgeous and the adventurous state of the girls was scary thrilling!

These ‘explorer kids’ ran, chased, scaled, and reached for the stars as we made our way to the statue. There was a lot of joy on the trail that day, as everyone who passed was filled with smiles and well wishes for a Happy New Year. It felt quite lovely. The maidelahs and the boychik felt the holiday spirit too as they giggled and climbed. Wink. Wink. Nod. Nod. The Mrs. and me thought for certain that we were golden; a promising quiet night with 4 sleeping beauties, nestled snug in their beds.

Home Alone. Popcorn is cooking
Home Alone. Popcorn is cooking

We filled their tiny bellies with pizza and ice cream, the entrée of all sleepovers. We brought out the trampoline for some additional arduous, aerobic activity, then stoked up the TV with Home Alone, the original. The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through the hallways of the Manor, a nice nosh (nibble) for a movie. It was a night of memory making, a simcha (cause for happiness) over these beautiful friendships.

Entertainment: Home Alone, the original
Entertainment: Home Alone, the original

Hugs, kisses… “Goodnight girls! We love you to the moon and back again!” Oh, how naïve we were.

The Bigs, they had their books to read and set off to our bedroom to quietly read. Our Little, she flipped a switch and began an award-winning melt-down, complete with alarming geshrei’s (screams like Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween), stomping feet and kicky legs too! Totally expected. The Mrs. spent some time in the room with them. I came back from walking boychik and headed for my tour of duty.

Many hours later, I lay motionless in the dark, essence of oils diffusing ‘balance’ into the air, two sleeping Bigs and two wide awake, albeit loud, Littles. It’s time for the Mrs. again. Soon after, I am called back in for a song. The Mrs., she cuts it off at a song. So Little E. requested a ‘lullaby’ that her mom sings her each night. Oy vey…

So, I pull out my very best lullaby. Like a jackrabbit, Little E., she jumps up and says, “That was good, but the one my mommy sings goes like this.” She sang proud and strong, and with the largest, wiggly-jiggly toothed smile shining by the light of the diffuser. It made my very tired, post-tantrum, miserable kinder (child) smile too.

From that moment on, they held hands, smiled, and fell fast asleep. Long night, but completely adorbs all around. Oh how I love these girls!

And chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Another nice nosh...
And chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Another nice nosh…

Gut-yor (A good year) for all!

Yeder kind offers zeyer eygn eyntsik talant fun glik tsu di velt. Every child offers their own unique gift of happiness to the world. – Russian proverb

 

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Me? The Mystery Blogger Award

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Yes! Let me start off, nachas (unbridled joy) aside, with the BIGGEST THANK YOU to my friend Ann at Grubbs and Critters for passing on the torch of the Mystery Blogger Award.

Okoto Enigma, creator of this beautiful honor writes, “Mystery Blogger Award”is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts.  Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates.  They are one of the best out there and they deserve every recognition they get.  This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging and they do it with so much love and passion. 

If you think I’m anything short of farklempt (all choked up over this), gutinue (oh my), you know me well!

RULES

  1. Proudly display the award image on your blog — I’m kvelling (literally, I’m bursting with pride!)
  2. List the rules (in process now)
  3. Thank Ann at Grubbs and Critters (whoever) for nominating me (you) and provide a link to their blog. Ann, you ROCK!
  4. Mention Okoto Enigmathe ingenious creator of this award and provide a link too
  5. Tell your readers 3 things about yourself — no tsuris (trouble) here, I’m a blogger!
  6. You have to nominate (10 – 20, or 300) bloggers — a simcha! (cause to rejoice!)
  7. Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog — me, interact and comment! 🙂
  8. Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)
  9. Share a link to your best post(s)

3 things about me?

  • I try very hard to live my life with empathy and humor — they need to go together, or life delivers too much shpilkes (that feeling of pins and needles and you may puke a bit…)
  • I absolutely, positively love Yiddish and want to keep this robust language alive! I’m Jewish by birth, but I practice Tai Chi…nu (so)?
  • I love to laugh. And sometimes, sometimes, I laugh so hard that I pisheh meyn hoisen (pee my pants), just a little. What? You wanted me to share?

My favorite posts
I have a few posts I like a bissel (little). Here, let me share with you all: I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR, The Vulnerability that is TimeThe Rule of Kind, and Let Them Play!

And the next set of nominations proudly go to:
So many people in this blogosphere that I admire, look up to, read. This one’s for all of you (in no particular order). If it’s not your thing, that is okay. Just know how much you mean to me in your words, your wisdom and your ability to make me laugh and/or cry:

My 5 questions to answer:

  • What the weirdest thing you have experienced in the last 3 months? the 2016 US Presidential Election – an old Yiddish proverb says, “If he were twice as smart, he’d be an idiot!” I agree. 
  • What’s your favourite children’s book? Zen Shorts, I read it often, and without the kids…it’s that good
  • Would you rather live under the sea or on the moon? Moon, because I like moon pies (aka scooterpies)
  • You discovered that the child you brought home a year ago was not your own as a result of a mix-up. What would you do? Continue to love he/she out loud
  •  Euthanasia – yes or no and why? Yes, because sometimes life (end of life) sucks, and we seem to be kinder to animals

Your 5 questions for you to answer, get the grey matter going you know?:

  • What is the best mistake you ever made?
  • Rain or snow, and why?
  • What is one thing in history you would like to change?
  • What best motivates you?
  • What is your absolute, favorite all-time movie?

Thanks All!

Wishing everyone a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year! L’Chiam! To life!

 

 

 

Taciturn Thursday? My Explorer Kids

Well, who knows why, but Wordless Wednesday passed me right by. Oy vey… Knowing me, I’m gonna share with you anyway. Enjoy our trip to Valley Forge Park with my Explorer Kinder (kids) and Nona.

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Az me gait gleich, fait men nit. If you walk straight, you will not stumble.

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For richer or poorer…

Our bubbelah's (sweethearts)
Our bubbelah’s (sweethearts)

In December, on the very day that follows jolly ol’ St. Nick, traipsing (trudging) soot through the Manor, schlepping (hauling) holiday gifts aplenty, the Mrs. and me, we will be legally married for three years. We’ve been together for just shy of 19 years. There was a bit of lag-time before the Supremes sang out to the world that we are in fact, equal. That our love counts too. Hey, that it happened in my lifetime! Pthui, pthui, pthui… So what, our engagement was long (16 years), and we had a couple of kinder (kids) out-of-wedlock. Nu?

Now, like all of you, we live through sickness and health, for richer or poorer… And what I have learned is that ‘poorer’ carries so much more in definition. Oy vey iz mir (Woe is me)… Poorer doesn’t always refer to insufficient bank funds. Sure we are shy of green and becoming quite the frugalista’s. We are actually quite rich in our poverty! Let me tell you three ways how:

Sleep. They say, a nacht on shlof iz di gresteh shtrof (a sleepless night is the worst punishment). Well, how about 3,285 of them! Yes, our kinder (kids), sweet shana madelahs (little girls) that they are, they lack the skillset to gai shluffin (sleep) like normal children without us mommas in tow. Often times, as we try our best to lull them to slumber, you can hear either the Mrs. or me mumble under our breath, “FCKITY F#CK FCK, will you please just go the F%CK to SLEEP!”

This is a far-reaching problem. It means neither sitter, grandparent, family member, sleep doula, nor even Mary Poppins herself, can lay them down for the necessary night’s worth of zzzz’s. Co-sleeping wee-sized infants have grown into co-sleeping small humans. They stand tall as trees, long limbs kicking, elbowing and stealing our snuggly quilt nightly. Our oversize king mattress, well not so much.

Our sleep bank and our cash bank look all too similar. Oy.

Yes, I co-sleep in their bed too.
Yes, I co-sleep in their bed too.

Kid-free zone. I’m talking about ‘alone time.’ Adult time. For schmoozing (talking), to catching up, binge watching Grace and Frankie or Orange is the New Black while spooning on the sofa. Even having actual time to talk about our dear kinder with each other. Taking in ‘a nice meal’ together, when we are both showered, dressed like we put in some sort of effort in the game, and totally tantrum free.

Thankfully, the Mrs. and me, we have some truly remarkable friends who have recognized our severe insufficiency in the kinder-free’ zone and have started with sleepovers. Big, she loves the sleepover, and Little, well, she is trying the best she can. We are not quite there. Last night’s pick-up (mid- Downton Abbey, season 6, episode 3), and todays screeching fits, outbursts and hysterics are proof.

Time. Not great bits of it mind you, but an occasional late slumber, where my body awakens because it’s met some sort of natural and healthful internal quota. Grabbing a shower without a cutie little punim (face) opening the curtain and asking, ‘do I know where her shoes are,’ or, ‘do you have any money.’  Uninterrupted time to poop, alone. Yes, I said it. That would be f#cking amazing.

So my Mrs., as we tackle the richness of poverty in our lives, please know we are in it together, for now and forever. That alone brings me such nachas (joy, pleasure), no gelt (money) can ever buy. I love you my sweet. And those kinder, kaynahorah (warding off the evil eye), they are happy, healthy, wonderful, meshuggeneh (crazy) girls.

Wow, I am rich.

Hnah lebn. Das iz nit a kleyd repetitsye. Enjoy life. This is not a dress rehearsal.

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