Buying Challah can be a Contact Sport

Posted on September 18, 2009 by 40andover

Tonight is the start of Rosh HaShanah and the ten days of introspection, reflection, repentance and atonement, culminating in Yom Kippur.

But today, today, is the day when frantic Jews push and shove to get the ingredients of the holiday meals.

The rule is: tonight, we start atoning for what we did at the store today.

I went out to get a challah (special bread for Sabbaths and holidays) from the neighborhood bakery on the upper, Upper West Side. I stand in a long line winding its way outside this adorable store front. All is seemingly calm until I move into the store as my turn comes up. I hear in a booming voice:

“I put my order in DAYS ago!! Last name FERNberg. F-E-AWR-N-B-E-AWR-G. FernBERG. 5 plain, 2 raisin challahs!!! Do I have to call my husband?”

One woman is so upset that she isn’t being paid attention that she refuses all bakery workers’ efforts to assist her. She needs to feel oppressed. This is the kind of stuff that should happen in the privacy of a psychiatrist’s office.

Then a rumor rages rampant that only raisin and whole wheat (oy) challahs were left. Now, comes the pushing and the shoving. People step out of line, disgusted. Then we find out there are plain challahs. Now people want to step back into line.

Now comes a Talmudic question: when a person voluntarily steps out of line but under false pretenses, does the person get his or her place back?

Great for Talmud, not for the hand-to-hand combat of pre-holiday upper, Upper West Side.

As everyone climbs over each other (vowing internally to start repentance tonight), I get my challah and leave quickly and, thank G-d, intact.

It is a beautiful morning in a house of mirth

Posted on September 18, 2009 by 40andover

Mornings are always hectic in our house. But not for me (note to self: be grateful; gloating could get you in trouble).

My partner (POB) is an early riser. My son has to be, too, since he needs to get to school on time. I hear the noise, confusion and (mostly) gentle prodding of our son to get ready. I am still lying in bed with a pillow over my head. Then in barrels our son, ready for some rough-housing in the morning (which he quaintly calls cuddling — even when we play two crashing trains). I rise to the occasion and then fall back in my bed when he scampers off to school. Off they go to school via bus or subway — more than I could ever manage.

For the first week of school, POB was away on business and our son was anxious about his new school. The cajoling and prodding took a long time. Plus, POB told me that we had to be there a whole 15 minutes earlier than necessary — a lifetime in the morning. Hmmmmm. She now feigns innocence as if I conjured this up out of the air. Obviously, since I was barely compos mentis at these early hours, we took cabs to school.

The minute POB returned from her trip, our son gave me up but said helpfully, “We were running late.” Thanks for the cover, bud. I appreciate your sticking by me as you rat me out. Note to self: have his aunt, “the vault”, teach him some pointers about secrets.

So, POB is strong, fearless and awake enough to take public transportation. Our family fisc thanks her.

The good news is that she is adaptive to any situation.

This morning I get an email from POB that recognizes and affirms me in all my frailties and is also practical:

“[Our son] had to use the bathroom on the way to school [NOTE: he never wants to go before he leaves so we get into this problem] so we ducked into McDonalds which took FOREVER so I channeled my inner [me, the blogger] and we took a cab. We made it just in time – and [our son] was truly apologetic so we vowed to launch the Morning Team to better figure this out.” [Note to self: keep your head down and don’t make eye contact, lest you are picked for the team.]

An episode in the morning of a house of mirth.

Fairy godmother angel of love

Posted on September 17, 2009 by 40andover

So, I am in a mood most foul after a typical day on my own personal road to Utopia when I descend into the malodorous 42nd Street subway station.

There, to my surprise is . . . the Angel of Love.

And, she is handing out . . .

messages of love.

And, I am charmed. She seems so guileless and weird. She is probably an out-of-work actress rather than an out-of-her-mind NYer.

And then I think, does she make a living this way? Can I do this AND support my family?

One moment’s flight of fantasy is followed by the cold-hearted calculations, all in the City where there is a broken heart for every light on Broadway.

Good things on the subway

Posted on September 17, 2009 by 40andover

This morning on the subway, a man was laughing out loud as he read an article in the newspaper. It was a happy laugh as if someone were enjoying a good story.

This being New York, I immediately looked over to make sure he was not chuckling over the daily carnage reported in the national and international sections of newpapers.

To my relief, he was reading an article in the Arts Section of the New York Times. I relaxed and enjoyed listening to his delight while reading the article.

Odd things against the backdrop of a sad day for our nation

Posted on September 11, 2009 by 40andover

In New York City, it is overcast and raining. Not just a sprinkle but the bone-chilling, clothes-drenching kind of day that can make a person melancholy. That is fitting for the anniversary of September 11, 2001.

I got my son off to school this morning. 6am-9am are not my “prime time” hours. Let’s just say that for the first two mornings, I returned to the house after drop-off, to sleep a little, shower and get to the office. Given the cost of the various taxis, this is not a sustainable practice even for the “AM challenged” like me. Luckily, his other mom comes home tonight from a business trip. She likes mornings, G-d bless her.

But today I was meeting a friend at a coffee shop at 8:30am, so I had to be showered and dressed BEFORE drop-off. This required success-oriented self-coaching last night. Today I could not hit the snooze button. I had to be fully groomed and ready with breakfast, packed lunch and washed, dressed and fed child. After a successful drop-off (phew) off I went in the whipping wind and drastically cooler temperatures to meet my friend.

Neither of us had been to this coffee shop, which turned out to be a 1950s style, singing coffee shop. The servers (the genderless version of waitress or waiter because “waitron” sounds like a machine) sing. At 8:30AM. Think about that. Most people don’t want to hear another’s voice until the crack of 10:15AM, but these servers are belting out songs at 8:30AM.

Some servers/singers are good, some not so much. The guy who sang Paul Simon’s “Call me, Al” should have had the microphone ripped out of his hands. At the risk of being redundant, it is 8:30am, and he is crooning in full voice WITH microphone in a cavernous space where there are few customers. My friend and I, as 40-and-overs, asked another server to turn down the volume of anything, the senseless movie playing in the background, the background music or the singer. The response was, “well, we are singing servers.” How nice for you, really; how unlucky for us. This is when I wished I had a hearing aid to turn off.

My friend and I called on our powers of concentration and focused. We giggled about things, talk business some, and talk family (the latter is always bittersweet). At one point, all the noise — oops, I mean music and singing — stopped and I realized was yelling over the din. So, I guess I did get the experience of what it must be like to have a hearing aid.

Apparently, one goes to the place for the entertainment and not for the food. Which makes a person wonder how this place survives the recession.

But it was a great place to have coffee because it created a bloggable moment. And the guy who sang, “Call me, Al” really should look for another line of work.

Another accidental audience

Posted on September 1, 2009 by 40andover

I am in a real estate closing, waiting for documents to be finalized and payments mades.

A small, but irritating fact, the lawyer for the purchaser can’t stop telling me how important and busy is his client, the husband (busier than the rest of us, who are present, obviously) so we have to have him sign and get out fast. He clearly does not realize that there are many busy people in this room, two of whom are there out of love and obligation to sellers (one deceased; the other living in an alternate reality). Whatever.

This lawyer also thinks he is the first person in the world to have a newborn. Of course, he is speaking to his client, the wife, a woman who has a small child and is pregnant. He says things like, my wife pumps breast milk all the time. In fact, he says his refrigerator used to have ice cream and waffles, now it is filled with pumped milk. I am sure I needed to know that the bassinet is next to his wife’s side of the bed so she can bring him into bed to nurse. We are now learning about his mother-in-law who is staying with them. She works for a chiropractor. Fabulous.

Wow, to think I lived without his virtual baby manual during the first 7 years of my son’s life.

I just want to get out of here.

Postscript on “My very own urban jungle and I don’t mean the Bronx Zoo”

Posted on August 28, 2009 by 40andover

So, my friend sent me a picture of this costume because she thought, given my recent urban wildlife challenge40andoverblog.com/?p=1085, I might consider this for Halloween.

When I get it right . . . .

Posted on August 20, 2009 by 40andover

40andyounger(for now) thinks I am too political, too depressing, not uplifting, etc. So do some other people.

I am a neurotic, Jewish, urban professional in her mid-forties. How am I supposed to see the bright side of life?

IT IS NOT IN MY DNA.

That is why I have invited some friends to contribute to my blog, as a way of lightening things up. In the mean time I will struggle, STRUGGLE, to find something that would even make me sing in the rain (ok, a person could catch pneumonia) or walk on air (ok, a person could fall and break her neck). Ok ok ok ok ok ok. This is going to be hard.

Illustrated Woman

Posted on August 20, 2009 by 40andover

Does anyone remember the creepy movie, “The Illustrated Man” with Rod Steiger as this totally tattooed guy with one clean area on his back into which you can look and see how you die?? One of those 60s/70s heavy, deep, allegorical and downright creepy movies. Well. . . . .

I saw a woman who was wearing shorts, a tank top and flip flops. She was covered — truly COVERED — with tattoos. From her chin down to just above her hands (I think the hands were pretty clear) down to her feet (although I declined to use my x-ray vision to see behind her tank top and shorts — for surely, I would have gone blind).

Without staring so obviously (me, obvious?), I tried to see a pattern or symmetry, if any. But, really I know nothing about tattooing and this “art form” so I need to read up. Was she displaying hopes and desires and personality traits in symbols on her body? Or was this self-mutilation gone wild, a la Ani DeFranco? Hmmmm.

Overdrive

Posted on August 17, 2009 by 40andover

Notwithstanding my report of a perfectly lovely Saturday evening out, I spent most of the weekend in bed and sleeping off a virus/bacteria of some sort. Not only did I feel physically bad but I felt this angst about wasting time and being unproductive. Watching TV only reinforced how useless I felt. There were things to do, time to spend with people, errands to run and I had no energy and a sick stomach. So, I started reading the Senate bill on health care and then the House bill. I am about 25% of the way through the house bill and since I read that the public option is on the negotiating block, I stopped reading until there is some clarity.

There are many simple reasons for my angst: I missed spending time with my partner and our son who went about the days as usual; I wasn’t outside on a sunny day (even though it was hot); I didn’t take care of many errands. But there’s more. As a professional who takes pride in her high level of productivity, I am faced with a recession-imposed low level of productivity at work. So, if the weekends are similarly unproductive, despair creeps in.

The hard psychological lesson of this economy is learning not to be wound so tightly, not to see oneself only by measures of income and productivity. Hard lesson. With any luck, the recession will be over soon and I won’t have to learn this lesson. Well, until the next recession in 7 years.

40 — oh wait, yikes!! 50 — andoverblog

Aging and living in urban US

Tag Archives: Urban Life