thevuvclub.com

Long And Lean

2011-02-09T14:16:00.000-08:00

I had some free time today so I “fell in to the GAP” to check out some new Spring fashions. I was having a particularly good hair day so I was feeling groovy…

Until I noticed a whole section of the store marked, “Long and Lean.”

This designation made me feel crummy because I am neither. I am “short and meaty” and I am tired of being discriminated against.

“Ankle” length for me means less shortening of the hemline required. “Long” means I could make leg warmers (a “look” from the past that should never return) with the extra fabric that needs to be cut off from the legs.

I asked the 14 year old manager where “my section” was and she squirmed from discomfort.

And what the hell is with the “skinny jean?" This is a look, that like the leg warmers mentioned above and let me add, “Capezios,” should have died a pernmanent death either after The Dick Van Dyke Show was cancelled or Saturday Night Fever left the theatres. Further, these are fashion trends that make most of the population feel like poop.

May I add that the only article a woman should use on/in her body marked “slender” is a tampon.

It’s a conspiracy against women isn’t it? ‘Cause men don’t have the same problem. The “skinny tie” never offended anybody……except for people with fashion sense and that doesn’t count.

“Long and lean”…what were they thinking? This should be used to describe corned beef…not clothing. And by the way, I think a better corned beef sandwich has a little fat on it.

“I’m just sayin”……I didn’t realize “The Gap” was a place between “Long and Lean” and “Plus Size.”

Tiger Mother

2011-01-18T18:56:00.000-08:00

I admit it…I am completely intrigued by “Chinese Tiger Mother.”

For those of you who don’t know to whom I am referring…this is the nickname for Amy Chua, a Yale law professor and the woman who wrote the “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” a book about parenting the “Chinese Way.” Chua has been all over the airwaves defending her position on “terrorist parenting.” She proudly defends her accounts of telling her children they are “garbage” when they don’t perform to her standards, that their toys will be donated to the Salvation Army if they don’t master a piano concerto by the next day and throwing hand made birthday cards made by her children in their faces and proclaiming they did not show enough effort. She defends these behaviors by explaining that the “Chinese Way,” where hard work, enforced by parents by punishing means, results in excellence, which excellence ultimately makes the children feel good about themselves. Parenting blogs are abuzz…

Yet I, for one, don’t care about her parenting theories. So her daughter played Carnegie Hall at 12…what self respecting Jewish mother isn’t asking, “But is she happy?”

Speaking of Jewish mothers.....in-law....

Ms. Chua, declaring herself an expert on growing up seeking excellence in all things…presumably including selecting a suitable man with whom to procreate…did not marry a Chinese man…she did not marry a man raised as she by “immigrant” parents who scoff at Western ways. She married an American Jew raised by a Yiddisha mama who likely told him he was God’s gift to mankind even when he got a B on a test and quit guitar lessons. Does anyone else find that interesting?

Perhaps hubby Jed Rubenfeld is the ying to her yang? Does he just stand by like a "shtummy" while his beloved bride berates his daughter over an A-? The unimaginable guilt that man must suffer. And whether Grandma Rubenfeld is alive or dead how does he explain the way her granddaughters are being “reared” either to her face or in his head?

Maybe he tells her not to worry…that Amy’s girls will follow in mother’s footsteps and one day one of them will write an acclaimed best seller, “The Lullaby of My Pussycat Daddy.”

16 Candles

2010-11-29T17:41:00.000-08:00

A birthday message to my son...

16 years ago today, at about this time of day, I recall screaming as loud as I possibly could... "GET IT OUT!!” to my obstetrician/gynecologist.

It was a warm and tender moment.

Hours later, I felt the release of what seemed like all my internal organs and heard your magical cry. Then, finally, you were placed swaddled in a warm blanket into my arms.

“My son,” I remember thinking. “This little bald pointy headed red-faced guy is my son.” (What a proud time).

I sure had some profound thoughts in the days thereafter. One was, “Wow, now I understand the hype about hemorrhoids” and another was, “Can I keep this funny looking kid healthy, happy and help him to lead a productive life?”

That was a scary question Max. I was 29 and at the time and I was looking in the mirror wondering whether my mother had done those things for me. I recall saying to my reflection, “Well, two out of three aint bad.” (Just kidding Marge)

And the simple, less profound thoughts about what to do next were even more frightening.

Now you are 16!!! My fears are no longer about meeting your basic needs (I finally got those down....chicken wings, pretzel rods, white grape juice, expensive sneakers, etc)...but when I think about the central theme of my current worries, they are still about "healthy, happy and leading a productive life."

These are moving targets my love....ones we keeep chasing as we grow.

16 years of growth is alot ya know...you are now this smart, funny, independent-thinking, continually-evolving young man.

I want you to know that I am trying to "keep up." I have learned so many things trying to be the mother I want to be for you, the mother I think you need and a woman you will still want to be around even when you no longer need your mother.

Don't worry, I’m still working on it.

And on your birthday I want to tell you how much I love growing up with you.

Also, I need to say that as for those moving targets....I am always and forever going to be there for you as you try to hit those and others and to follow whatever dreams you may dream.

That's non-negotiable....
It's payback for the hemorrhoids.

Happy Birthday!!

I love you more than words can ever say.

A Winning Season

2010-11-24T12:48:00.000-08:00

It’s Thanksgiving time! It’s my favorite holiday and a time of the year when I consistently ask myself...

How am I possibly going to get all my food shopping done? (Twenty Two for dinner)

And then...

I ask myself, “What am I thankful for?”

Pondering this question is an excellent and important exercise and I recommend you all engage. In fact, I will admit, I don’t wait till Thanksgiving to perform the ritual of giving thanks...I consider it a part of my mental health regimen.

As a competitive type, I tend to keep “scorecards”...

My “scorecard of thanks” allows me always to balance “losses,” negative occurrences in my life, with my list of “wins” or those things I am grateful for.

Like when Marge had two surgeries last month (the loss column)...and I was a wreck. I placed the fact that she woke up (with a good prognosis) in the win column.

When I turned 45 a few weeks ago and realized I officially cannot read a menu without glasses and a physician used the “peri-menopause” word in my presence (losses) I acknowledged that the alternative to aging sucks and decided hitting 45 without “dry” body parts was a victory.

My competitor’s view of life also has me pit my blessings against my “troubles.” I visualize them in a boxing ring and if my blessings can kick the ass of my troubles then the “round” goes to blessings.

Since I believe you can create good in your life easier than you can control bad things that happen to even really good people...it seems to me this is a good method for managing the "scorecard" and maintaining a “glass half full" perspective on life.

So this Thanksgiving...when things I am thankful for include my loving family, my cherished friends, the generally good health of both family and friends……I consider myself to be having a winning season.

May this holiday season be a winning season for you as well.
Xoxo

The Night Befores

2010-11-02T08:38:00.000-07:00

I hate the “Night Befores…”

It is bad enough surviving weekends with teenagers.

But this week, after breathing a sigh of relief and making it through the prior Friday and Saturday night late evening activities, carpools and teenage behavior, Monday night was a “Night Before.”

“Where ya’ going?” I asked.
Child 1: “To a Sweet 16, remember?”
Child 2: “To a Halloween Party?”
“What about school tomorrow?” I said, with lip trembling.
Children in unison: “It’s the NIGHT BEFORE Election Day (no school)!!”

Ugh!

The dreaded "Night Before."

The Night Befores suck! Because the hubby and I do not have Election Day, for example, “off from work.” We still require the full night’s sleep that makes us capable of performing our job duties…and this does not jive with my worrying schedule or the texting and bbm’ing that goes on after my bedtime to confirm their well-being, safety, consciousness, and need for rides from wherever they are.

So this morning, when I am at my desk working (and sneak-writing this) in a zombie state and my beautiful teens are at home in the fetal position under their covers snoring away enjoying the “morning after,” I am reminding myself of the joys of motherhood and the blessing of having children with fulfilling social lives....

I’m also putting in for Veterans Day as a day off.

'Cause you know what they say...."If you can’t beat ‘em, join em."

News Rage

2010-10-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

I have news rage.

It’s a condition brought on by the atrociousness of the stories most talked about in the media. It can be caused by the nature of the event or the nature of the reporting. Either way, the result is pure, unadulterated RAGE!!!

These events and people are everywhere....and I am mad as hell and can't take it anymore.

Like the Connecticut Dr. whose family was robbed, tortured, raped and burned. It was bad enough when it happened. Now, we have to watch the accounts of the poor man having to sit through a trial where the savage beast who committed these acts confessed but blamed his aggression on his “partner in crime.” This story makes me want to become a vigilante...like Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry...“Go ahead....make my day.” Worse, this story causes rage fantasies in which the convicted is brought to a public square and people are allowed to stand on line to do whatever cruel and unusual things they can think of doing to him. I know...my rage is astounding.

Tyler Clemente…this story makes me want to place the roommate, Dharum Ravi, and his friend in the same public square. This story makes me wonder how the lines between human decency and behavior which lacks human decency get crossed with such disregard? Was it a "bias crime?" I don't know but clearly hate, ignorance and Meanness (with a capital "M") were at play here....and Tyler's senseless death makes me angry.

Lindsay Lohan pisses me off too. Stories about Lindsay make me want to stand up and scream, “Who gives a rat’s ass?” Lindsay, Dina and her father should be locked in a holding cell together, for a year or so, with Coach Sue from Glee. I just want her to go away. I liked the remake of the Parent Trap…I really did, but I can't watch it anyway anymore…since Natasha died…so I really have no place in my life for spoiled Lindsay anymore.

Finally, Oksana Grigoriera....and Mel Gibson. Well Oksana...in the words of Gomer Pyle..."Surprise, Surprise!" The anti-semitic adulterer isn't the sweetest man around. You just noticed the guy has a mean streak? Seriously, does anyone care about this?

I could go on and on...but I am pissimg myself off writing this.
I will say, though, that there is a therapeutic side to getting your thoughts on paper.

You all should try it some time.

Off Kilter

2010-10-04T12:43:00.000-07:00

Certain things in life throw us “off kilter”…ruin our sense of “balance”…

Like loss, illness or other types of adversities...

And it’s not a good feeling. Worse, it’s a difficult one to articulate…

But articulate I will!

'Cause I have lost my equilibrium a few times in my life, I have a few friends going through some “stuff” as we speak and the tool I am about to provide may come in handy for all.

The “Tool:”

Remember “Welcome Back Kotter?” The Sweathogs? Remember the excuse notes from Epstein’s mother? The ones that said stuff like “Dear Mr. Kotter. Please excuse Juan’s abs. Signed Epstein’s Mother.” Well, when I am off kilter, I imagine what I would like an “excuse” note from Epstein’s mother to say:

Dear Mr. Kotter or anyone who expects anything from [the “Excused Party”] in life:

Please excuse the “Excused Party” from all activities and responsibilities because [this is where you fill in the blank with the concerns that are eating up your focus”].

Though the Excused Party is still “technically” required to wake up in the morning and do what she is supposed to do…”show up” for motherhood, “show up” for work...show up" to play all the roles she normally plays in life…she can’t ‘cause it doesn’t “feel right.”

Please give the Excused Party a “pass” if she forgets a birthday, answers a question wrong at work, complains about body aches she never had before or, instead of giving you sympathy, looks at you with a blank stare when you complain about being stuck at
home waiting for a furniture delivery. The Excused Party really still loves you and hopes you will continue to be her friend, child, sister, boss [whatever] despite her inability to be there for you at that moment. Signed Epstein’s Mother.

P.S. One never knows how long this loss of “equilibrium” will last, so please keep this note on file until somehow, the Excused Party, whomever they may be, can take a deep breath and feel like herself again.

P.S.S. Please note, the Excused Party doesn’t like the feeling of being “off kilter” and she, despite what it looks like, is trying her best to ‘fix this condition” as quickly as possible. [End Note]

Might this come in handy for you? Feel free to "cut and paste" and personalize and retain for future use,

OR....

Think about this: the people in your life who matter to you most, don’t usually need the note. They don’t need to give you one or get one from you…and the rest of the people…well, they are just “who and what they are” and you have to decide how to manage your feelings about whether you care if they “get you” or not. Right?

To my peeps: Marge is doing well.

And to my pals who may use the Note:
May you get your balance back quickly and with little pain.

The Three R's

2010-09-21T09:46:00.000-07:00

We were out for a Vuv birthday dinner, just the six of us “Vuvs.”

And while this sounds “run of the mill,” this is actually not an easy fete…coordinating our schedules and celebrating an event without lots of other friends around as well….but the birthday girl wanted to keep it simple….

Sushi was on the menu…in a place that requires you to take your shoes off and sit at a table where you feign sitting “Indian-style” (at a Japanese restaurant) and put your sockless freezing feet in a “well.” We ordered cocktails and then I took a look around the table at “my girls” reading their menus…..all but one in halfie-granny reading glasses.

We didn’t wear these ten years ago.

We caught up on what is going on in each of our lives….some funny stuff but also, part of the conversation….parental health issues…..blockages, stents, hearing aids, cataracts.

We didn’t talk about these things ten years ago.

We spoke of upcoming bar and bat mitzvahs. Three of us are done planning and the festivities are behind us . Three of us still have these events ahead.

We had nursery school students ten years ago.

We talked about our children who are old enough to be studying for SAT’s, ACT’s and road tests….

10 years ago these were just letters of the alphabet and these kids were riding Big Wheels….

We discussed diets to combat slow thyroids and overactive appetites and “body rejuvenating” procedures we dreamed of and contemplated….

10 years ago we were still losing “baby weight” and the word “Juvederm” was not in our vocabularies…..

We talked about “connection”….sometimes we feel it more than other times….there for each other always when “events” occur, good and bad….but wondering whether we could we be better about the time between events…..

We can always be better…..

But 10 years is a long time….

And we are still around the table….

And as I reflect on how the women I am connected to have enriched my life in the past 10 years, I am acutely aware of how important it is for me to “show up” at their events, to pick up the phone between and to remind them frequently through words and actions that I want them to be a part of my life 10 years from now.

May you be inspired to do the same....
Reflect, remember, rejuvenate....

Back To School

2010-09-01T17:21:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow is the first day of school and I am in a complete tizzy.

I got the worst math teacher, my program sucks and I don't know anyone who is in my classes.

I have been going to sleep after midnight and waking up at noon all summer and am panicked about falling asleep tonight at a time that will have me fully functional at 7 a.m.

My mother wants me to wear the new wool fall outfit she bought me for school and it is supposed to be 97 degrees.

Oh, and did I mention the outfit goes with the hideous "school shoes" my sister suggested I buy? Good thing they are "multi-colored" platforms and "go with everything." I should get lots of wear out of them.

What am I to do?

For starters, perhaps I can "snap out of it!"....and remember that I am not 13 and it's not 1978 (thankfully). I don't have to sneak-read Judy Blume's "Forever." I am as old as dirt and it is my children who are in their rooms dealing with their own "stuff" about the start of a new school year.

Right?

I'm not so sure...

I know that I am an adult who works and has a career and that I will not be going to school tomorrow.....but the summer will always feel more "free" to me than any other season...less routine, less tense. The season when "school's out" is my "fave" and "back to school" time marks it's end.

Hmmmm....maybe I'm the one dealing with "stuff" and there's a reason those kids are hiding in their rooms.....

May all your students have a great start to the new school year!!

Enjoyin' The Ride

2010-08-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

I do not remember much about the details of anything I did two decades ago. I don’t even feel old enough to talk about a life that existed two decades ago…

But I am two score and four years old and as of today I will have been married for one score of it.

Yes my friends, it is my 20th wedding anniversary!! And Eric’s too!! We have been espoused 20 freakin’ years! Are you catching on to a theme yet?

This is a milestone of grand proportions.

And when I mentioned this event to Eric in utter disbelief, he said, “It has been a pretty good ride.”

Isn’t that romantic? To liken 20 years of marriage to a ride? Surprised he didn’t say run? Or swim?

Could have been either with him for readers who know my marathon-running man…and if I was a romantic, I would be annoyed…or more annoyed.

But the good news is we both like triathlons…and, it occurs to me that if we all applied the values of a triathlete to marriage, the time we spend in the race would…just maybe… be more pleasant.

There’s preparation and training for every race and when you are training…there are:

Days you feel you can run forever
Days you hit a wall
Days you hit the water and are overcome with a kind of anxiety that makes you feel you will drown
Days you hit your stride on that bike and feel like you could win the Tour de France
Days other racers get in your way
Days you couldn’t make it up a hill without them
Days you don’t want to work anymore
Days all you can think about is being the best at it that you can be
Days your endorphins give you an incredible natural high
Days you “smell the coffee” and see the fruits of your labor

And the racers who are committed to a good result…they stay in the race…

So, as for the “it’s been a good ride” comment…I’ll take it…

‘Cause it has been

And I think we are still motivated to “achieving our best times on this course.”

Happy Anniversary honey!
Ride on!

The Dreaded V.D. List

2010-07-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

Not "venereal disease......VISITING DAY!!!!!!!!!

I swore I wouldn’t do it again…

I spent the whole school year extolling the virtues of healthy eating and yet, today, days before camp visiting day, I purchased enough junk food for my daughter Sydney to put a village of children in to a sugar coma.

She sent me “The List”…the dreaded list…and who am I to say no? After all, she has been deprived of her favorite foods for twenty-one days. Imagine…3 whole weeks without a Blow Pop. It is, after all, two treats in one. I am too weak to refuse that request.

Hev, have you ever gone three weeks without two kinds of Doritos? It is unimaginable. Chex Mix? Tootsie rolls? Pop Tarts? Ritz with a can of Cheez Wiz on the side? I am too weak to refuse these requests as well. But can we take a minute to discuss the Cheez Wiz? Because it baffles me…she has never ever requested this fake dairy product or tried it at home. I believe I am asked to purchase this for purposes of an underground barter system that exists at camp (you know, like in prison). I have a theory that the Cheez Wiz has a high trade value. One of these days I will prove I am right.

I also swore up and down I wouldn’t schlep perishables. But “The List”…..the dreaded list…has Chinese food and sushi on it. Now I need another tangent here…I have friends who are admittedly attempting to transport Red Mango and D’Lites and Ralph’s Ices (all frozen treats in case you live in a cave)…and they are staying over the night before they see the kids…and no, they do not drive an ice cream truck…..though now that I say that wouldn’t that be a good idea? (Note to self: Rent Mr Softee truck next year and drive it to camp).

Okay so I told you all of that so I wouldn’t sound like such an ass for bringing Chinese food and sushi…but it’s true!! Did I mention hot wings? Chocolate pizza? (Call Michelle at 516 459 6495 if you want one for your camper—they're yummy!).

Is there actually any remnant of a fruit in a fruit roll-up? ‘Cause I bought a box of 48. She has a day and a half to eat the food I bring. After that, all things that cannot be hidden in ingenious spots and do not cause rodents to infest your bunk, get destroyed (or as I remember it from my counselor days, eaten by staff). Unless Sydney has turned in to Takeru Kobayashi in 3 weeks, I think we got a problem.

No, I know we “got a problem.”

But what would visiting day be without me and the grandparents backing up the Costco truck to that camp?

I don’t know about you….but for me it just wouldn’t be the same.

Safe travels!! Hug your campers! And then don’t feel guilty that you are upset that this indicates that half of your summer is over...you are not alone!

xoxo

Shooting The Breeze

2010-07-13T08:37:00.000-07:00

I had my camp “phone call” yesterday with my baby girl and it was apparent how much we each anxiously anticipated our opportunity to speak. We took turns babbling and sharing what was going on during our summer apart, neither one of us able to get a word in edgewise. And before we hung up we talked about when we would next speak. (You parents with campers… I imagine you put the same value into these coveted calls as I do…right?)

I was just as excited about my calls when my son was at sleep-away too…and he had no phone access other than scheduled calls and we looked forward to a chance to catch up.

Now, this year, at a college program with full access to phone and internet, my male offspring seems to have very little interest in chatting with dear old mom.

Oh sure, he calls once in a while…sends a text or a photo of him in an amazing place he’s touring…but there’s not much interest in “shooting the breeze.” In fact, I am pretty sure, he is not much of a fan of “the breeze.” The call has a purpose and when the purpose is stated, the call is over.

Him: “I am calling from Evanston, Illinois and Northwestern is one of the most beautiful campuses I have ever seen.”
Me: “Really, tell me about it…tell me what you are doing there.”
Him: “Actually I gotta go…just wanted to tell you this is amazing.” CLICK.

So I stared at the phone and thought, "Ok…at least he wants to share."

And I notice that my hubby thinks this is perfectly normal.

The other night when he and the rest of America heard LeBron say “Miami”…Eric dialed Max on speaker and this is how it went:

Given caller ID, Max answered like this: ”I don’t want to talk about it.”
Eric responded, “I know. And we are going to root for every team that plays against the Heat.”
“Agreed,” said Max.
“K, love you,” said Eric. CLICK.

And Eric seemed perfectly satisfied with this exchange. After all, key information and deep emotions were shared. Clearly, there was no need for "the breeze."

Oh well, Sydney and I get to speak again soon.
I really can’t wait!

Decompressing

2010-07-08T19:45:00.000-07:00

“You haven’t written in a while,” says Marge in her “Marge voice.”
As if I didn’t realize and would not have known if she did not tell me.

“Well are you still writing?” she adds.
So if it wasn’t stressing me out that I wasn’t writing, maybe it would now.

“I see you’re not answering me….but you should write more because I keep a book of all your entries and I haven’t added to it in a while.”
Thank you mother…I got the point!

So in response,…..I’m always writing…in my mind. My thoughts just haven’t made it to print in a while.

Bat Mitzvah planning, packing the children and sending them off for summer, auditioning for Oprah, lawyering, Bethenny Getting Married…these things have kept me slightly busy…and I gave myself permission to burn my candle from one less end for just a little while. You should try it!

Also, my children have informed me their friends read and if I write another embarrassing thing about them they are going to be "upset" with me (they actually used other choice phrases). Deterrent? Not a chance. I am planning my next embarrassing post as we speak…

But first, with the kids away, a mom must play.

After a weekend of debauchery, I plan to hit you with my “voice” again on a more regular basis.

That should please Marge…and hopefully a few others.

I hope you are all enjoying your summer!! Maybe even decompressing.
xo

My OPRAH Audition

2010-06-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

Hello Friends! I am at it again!

I have submitted an audition in Oprah's contest to win your own talk show on the Oprah Winfrey Network ("OWN").

Please let me impose upon you to WATCH IT, VOTE FOR ME and help me get some votes!!

You must cut and paste the following link to vote for me: http://myown.oprah.com/audition/index.html?request=video_details&response_id=19610&promo_id=1

And They're Off.....

2010-06-26T04:03:00.000-07:00

The day the kids leave for camp
Is the day that I put my stamp
On the summer that is to be
The summer of me, me, me

I like to start with a drink
Cause I’ve no desire to think
About respons-ibil-ity
Cause it’s all about me, me, me

And then I have another
To remember I have a lover
Who has been married to me 20 years
That’s why we need the beers

By the time I have had my third
I forget that it’s absurd
That I’m acting 23
And it’s all about me, me, me

After I finish another
I remember I am a mother
And I’ve only 49 days
To enjoy a childless haze

Then my heart begins to race
For the truth that I must face
Is those kids will always be
A force bigger than me, me, me……

Attention Campers!
Have an amazing summer!

And to my friends who have an "empty nest" for just a few weeks....
Relax, enjoy and take some time to do something you don't get to do when the hectic school year schedule gets in your way....

XOXO

Junk In The Trunk

2010-06-13T19:07:00.000-07:00

We spent the weekend focusing on Sydney’s camp trunk…

And she has an interesting view of packing: She would like to take her room.

Not just the contents…but the entire room.

I like this idea and when packing for vacation, I have fantasized about being Samantha from Bewitched and transporting my house to the vacation spot so I won’t have to select a week of essentials.

But it doesn’t work…

My nose doesn’t wiggle and neither the room nor the house will fit in two soft trunks.

“All this has to fit in one cubby Sydney,” I say. Then I list additional reasons why she really doesn’t need so much "junk in the trunk":

“They do laundry ya’ know.”

“Camp is only 49 days…if you changed outfits three times a day this would be too much.”

Then I throw in a general catch-all comment like, “This is an embarrassing amount of stuff.”

She is un-phased and determined …and even after 5 years of being a camper, I know what this is really about.

Sydney loves camp…when she gets there. Until she gets there, my "12 year old 40 year old" still experiences the anxiety of leaving home and simply stated, "There is comfort in her stuff."

I get it.

And at the end of the day I don’t care how fat those trunks are or where they put her stuff once she gets there…as long as my baby is comfortable…happy……and safe.

To my "trunk-packin' mamas" let me say, "We are almost there! Hang in!"
xo

A Gore-y Story

2010-06-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

Can we talk about Al and Tipper Gore?

I know, their separation is already “old news,” but I have been taking my time, digesting it and reading up on the media’s theories for their breakup. Unfortunately, I still have unanswered questions and I thought perhaps we could talk about them, maybe even answer a few.

First, I am reminded of a very old joke that consistently makes me laugh. A couple, each in their 90’s, are before a judge, seeking a divorce. The judge says to them, “Before I grant this divorce, let me ask you something….you are each in your 90’s, you have been married almost 70 years, WHY NOW?” In unison, the couple answers the judge without hesitation, “We waited for the kids to die.”

And the point is?

It took 40 years to decide they don’t like each other?!! 40 years to decide your spouse has intolerable characteristics or behaviors?!! 40 years to “grow apart?!!” By year 30 shouldn’t you have a hint of a schism? A New York Times columnist concluded that separating after 40 years indicates that Al and Tipper are both optimistic that there is time left in their lives to do and accomplish the things they wanted to or could have done had they not been in the marriage. Optimistic? What’s the opposite of optimistic? I’m not commenting on how much spunk either one of them will be able to muster once divorced….I’m just sayin’…… If something is drastically wrong in my marriage I want to figure it out before I am too old or embarrassed to get naked in front of anyone else. Seriously, I would like to still have my own teeth when re-entering the dating market.

So you see, this isn’t really about Al and Tipper. The truth is the only two people who can speak about a marriage are the two people in the marriage….I wish them both well and know they will recover from this “Inconvenient Truth.” The issue is will the rest of us recover the faith we need to believe that just because high school sweethearts who were married 40 years and had children and grandchildren and what appeared to be fulfilling lives didn’t “make it,” doesn’t mean _________________.

You fill in the blanks….cause clearly, no one else can fill ‘em in for you.

The Meaning of Mitzvah

2010-06-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

A “Mitzvah,” simply defined, is a good deed….but this Memorial Day weekend, I felt the word’s true meaning.

Saturday we celebrated the Bat Mitzvah of our daughter Sydney with friends and family.

The evening began with a temple service conducted by Sydney and then all our guests “convoyed” to her party…

And it rocked! The evening exceeded my expectations because the feeling of love and joy of all who attended was overwhelming.

More overwhelming are the phone calls and texts and emails that are still coming in from our partygoers thanking us for having them……

Overwhelming because....they got it all wrong!

It’s my family that wants to thank them!

‘Cause there aint no party unless people care enough about you to come out and make it a party!

One friend’s text said, “You could have made that party in your backyard and it would have been a blast. You are blessed.”

I don't know if he's right, but I feel blessed!! I am blessed with people in my life who truly put the “Mitzvah” in Sydney’s Bat Mitzvah.

And I am grateful, I appreciate it and it is my goal in life not to take it for granted.

Mazel Tov to Sydney who danced in to my heart 13 years ago and then danced into the party room Saturday night and touched many hearts….and a heartfelt thank you to all who made it such a memorable event, whether by attending or sharing their good wishes.

XO

Goodnight Moon

2010-05-16T19:36:00.000-07:00

I tucked Sydney and her BFF, Devon in to bed when they arrived home this morning at 1 a.m. from a friend’s Bat Mitzvah. They were so tired and so cute in their fuzzy pajamas. I could barely remember the adult-like outfits they were in or the heels or the makeup they were wearing just 5 hours before when they left for the party. All I saw was the two little girls that have been playing together since they were one. Literally, in my 1 a.m. delirium, Sydney and Devon were toddlers and I wanted to hold them like I did when they were that age. “Sleep fast,” I told them, as I kissed them goodnight. “I have to wake you in 7 hours for an early soccer game.” “Ugh,” they said in unison. "Love you!" I said as I closed the door.

Then morning came, and there they were again, looking adorable…sound asleep in fetal positions. “Wake up little sleepyheads,” I said…and as tired as they were neither one cursed at me, as I thought they would. They just got up and put their jerseys on. Then, shorts, shin guards, socks, cleats…and we left.

And when we got to the field and they got out of my car and started walking toward their team, it was as if I was watching a flip picture book where on the first page they were two feet tall and within seconds, they were 3 feet, then 4 feet, then 5 feet……

I don’t know what age it started at or when or if it will ever end, but these lovely creatures who are our kids seem to straddle that line between being child-like and adult-like…and I am constantly amazed when I am thinking they are one of those and then I am reminded they are the other.

Will it always feel this way?
I think it might……

" Goodnight room, goodnight moon......."

Recovery

2010-05-05T19:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a while....

Life got in the way of writing....which really shouldn't happen since I write about my life.

Work was overwhelmingly busy....that lawyering thing I do that helps me earn a living.....

I'm planning a Bat Mitzvah for 250 or so people....

And the biggest distraction of all....my baby (15 to you but my baby to me) had an emergency appendectomy.

It was last week when I got that dreaded call from the school nurse on one of my work days where she says you really should come and pick up your child.

"May I speak to Max," I asked the nurse.

"Are you really in pain or are you having a bad day in school?" I asked with apparent doubt (and maybe a little disdain).

He stuck to the pain story and thankfully, I erred on the conservative side and asked one of Max's grandpas to take him right to our pediatrician.

She's a working mom and a friend and she called me at the office and said, "This is the real deal and we should head to the hospital." Okay then....0 to 60 in 3.8 seconds.....that's how fast I went into "mom overdrive."

And nine hours after arriving at the hospital, they wheeled our child in to surgery and there is actually only one way to describe that feeling: It sucks!

"This will only take an hour," said the surgeon.

Bet he wouldn't guess that when we hit hour two I would vomit.

Of course there are a million ways one could explain the difference in estimated time and actual time...none of which I could come up with prior to vomiting.

We needed the laugh we finally got in the Recovery Room. The nurses explained that Max woke up and said, "Where the f%#@ am I and where are my pants?" I guess you had to be there. Then he serenaded them with John Mayer's "Waiting On The World To Change." "We didn't know he could sing," Eric said. "Oh no, he can't," said the nurse.

Now a week later, Max is on the mend...though he didn't sing much this past week...

And so am I.

Ladies, we are only as happy as our unhappiest child, right?

So I didn't feel like writing.

Then last night I was honored by the Long Island Center For Business & Professional Women. Me, Donna Anselmo, Arlene Haims, Andrea Majer and District Attorney Kathleen Rice were recognized as "Achievers."

It was a special night and my family, including a slightly pale Max, and the Vuvs were there to see me receive this award and hear my speech.

And not to be outdone by Ms. Rice who announced her candidacy for Attorney General on Monday, I announced my candidacy for Governor of New York.

Okay, so maybe Max and I are still a little groggy in "recovery," but that's okay.....his appetite, desire to "sing" and my sense of humor are coming back.

Look out!

Here is the link to Newsday's coverage of the event:
http://www.newsday.com/business-1.1896571

Driving Me Crazy

2010-04-20T13:21:00.000-07:00

My nephew Jake has turned 17 today and he is driving as we speak.

And what that means to me…oh it pains me to say this…is my sister is as old as dirt and I am not far behind. There, I said it.

No offense Sister Lovey, you’ll always be “young” to me, but when we were seventeen our parents were ancient, remember?

Now I suppose we are ancient…and we are talking about colleges and SAT’s and the price of car insurance instead of about hot boys and cool clothes.

And I don’t know about you ladies but I still like hot boys and cool clothes…only the thrill is not the same when your taller-than-you 12 year old likes the same ones. One makes you feel “dirty” and the other makes you wonder about the “age-appropriateness” of your life.

What does it mean to "dress like you’re 44?" I don’t know and I don’t care. The answer is too depressing.

Lovey, remember when mom and dad let you have the keys to the powder blue Coupe Deville? The “Dad-illac,” as you called it. Remember having to call them every time you stopped anywhere, assuming you could find a pay phone? How annoying did we think our ancient parents were then? How many times did you make Jake text you today to tell you he arrived safely, was leaving for a new destination, etc? Guess what? We are those parents now.

Please tell me that we are somehow a “cooler” version.

Tell me you will not be standing in your foyer in your bathrobe when Jake arrives home late like Marge was. Tell me you will not exclaim, ‘Oh thank G-d” every time he comes home…and tell you me have you actually said to Jake, “It’s not you I am worried about, it’s the other drivers.”

You said that last one didn’t you?

I’m sure you did.

Okay, I guess some things just come with the age.

Happy Birthday Jake!
Drive safely!!

Part 2 of Leslie Adler's Stand Up Comedy Debut at Governor's Comedy Club

2010-04-15T09:24:00.000-07:00

Same warnings....new laughs!

Leslie Adler's Stand Up Comedy Debut at Governor's Comedy Club--Part 1

2010-04-13T17:22:00.000-07:00

I told you all about attending Comedy College at Governor's.....

Well, here is my graduation performance!

Let me warn you.....This video is rated somewhere between PG-13 and R and may be shocking to people under 21, over 60 and those without a sense of humor.

Part 2 to follow....and available on Youtube.com

Spring Break

2010-04-06T17:47:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from visiting Marge and Bob at “Boca Del Vista” (the fictional name of the Florida Country Club where my “snowbird” parents spend the winter). I am tan and full. The tan will last a mere few days…..the full feeling…it could be weeks…perhaps months before that passes. Four days, fifteen meals…you do the math.

I had a wonderful time. I feel very safe there. Not just because I was with my mommy and daddy but because the 80 year old security guards at the gate have started wearing berets. It is a very badass new touch. I am no longer worried about how they can possibly chase down the evil people that might want to crash the gates of this peaceful community and I have stopped wondering what Pepe Le Pew has been doing since he retired.

Other new security measures have been instituted at “BDV” as well. I was running one morning, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air…when two miles from home I got a runner’s poop cramp. I was not going to make it home with clean tights but I realized I could make it to the bathroom I pass on the golf course. I ran past two golf carts of male golfers praying I would make it to the ladies room door and I did…only to find it was locked and a new combination lock had been installed on the door (the kind with numbers 1 through 5 where you need to know the code). I shimmied back within speaking distance of the golfers. In a cold sweat, I managed a smile and I said, “Excuse me gentlemen…might you know the combination on the ladies room door?” “Yes,” one kind golfer said…and then he put his hand by his mouth to gesture a whisper…a secret…and he said, “1…2…..3.” Wow. I could never have cracked that one. Obviously, Mr. Brinks himself has been working on their security, I thought…but I said, “The secret is safe with me,” and I winked. I later heard the code used to be “1…3…5”…but no one could remember it.

Seriously, I am very happy when I visit my parents…especially at “Happy Hour”….which used to be at 4 but ”Bombay Bob,” my dad, has started getting happy earlier and earlier in the day and his "Bombay Sapphire gin and no tonic" is waiting on the bar at 3. It’s okay though ‘cause his cardiologist said he can have one drink a day…a rule he follows now that he got himself a 32 ounce glass.

I also enjoy my visits to Florida because Marge loves to shop and after 11 winters in the Sunshine State finally knows how to get to the Boca Town Center. “West to the Ocean and East to the Turnpike,” she says. I have no idea what the hell that means but we got to Nordstrom’s and life was good.

Yes…life is good…my hilarious parents are still partying like it’s 1999…and I am grateful for them and the material they provide for writing and my developing comedy career. Hope your Spring Break was as fun as mine!

Life In 3D

2010-03-21T13:00:00.000-07:00

I am writing this on the way to Nana Marion's funeral. She was Eric's grandma and she was 96....

A sobering contrast to the hangover-inducing Friday night bash we had in honor of Eric reaching two remarkable milestones: 45 years old and 5 years cancer-free!!!

Interesting how it seems Eric and I always get to see amazing positives in another context.

Don't misunderstand me. I am not complaining. Maybe, as a result, our blessings are viewed in 3D...in some enhanced way. We were surrounded by loved ones Friday night...by a room full of people who all have a place in our hearts and wanted to celebrate with us.

And maybe we see even our losses in a different light. Nana was 96 and she led a long and fulfilling life. She was loved by many and respected by all who knew her. She enjoyed generally good health for most of her life and was completely of sound mind till the day she closed her eyes. Sign me up for that!

This year I too will be 45, Sydney will become a Bat Mitzvah and Eric and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary.

At some points in my life I would have been afraid to announce so many good things for fear that my Jewish, neurotic background would have me wondering when the next "shoe would drop."

But not anymore...Now I say, "Bring it." 'Cause no matter what, I will have my 3D glasses on.