Chanukah Party

Posted on December 13, 2009 by 40andover

We had a family Chanukah party at our synagogue this afternoon. The kids had activities; the parents were just hanging out with only coffee and tea as refreshments. Someone suggested that we get a bottle of wine. The rabbi overheard and went into the kitchen and brought out red and white wine and iced vodka. The senior rabbi produced three kinds of single malt scotch. We had only Dixie cups and were crowded around a card table with a paper table cloth with dreidels on it. It was a little like smoking dope in the bathroom while the high school dance is going on downstairs.

Apparently, the wine was for a party later on tonight and the man in charge got into a distemper over our poaching some of the wine, and had a bitchy, chastising tone as he grabbed the wine and said, “I am going to talk to the rabbi about this!” Ok, so the hall monitor is ratting us out to the principal who gave us the wine in the first place. NOW, who was going to be in trouble?? Mister Officious-Avec-Attitude came over and said, “the rabbi will go out and buy more wine so HERE.” Ok, now I was pissed. I say, “the wine is awful anyway, so don’t have anyone buy more of this vinegar.” Ok, we were going to have it out, the lesbian mom and the gay man c-list event coordinator. In the nick of time, the senior rabbi came over wearing a velvet Menorah hat and asked if anyone liked the scotch. That diffused the brewing cat fight. Phew.

Ok, the kids never knew what was happening, except the parents were laughing a whole lot more than any Sukkot and Tu B’Shevat parties at the synagogue.

Thanksgiving 2009 — prologue

Posted on November 25, 2009 by 40andover

We’re having brisket instead of turkey as a way to meld Jewish and American traditions (mostly, I am tired of having three people compete for only two turkey legs). And besides the turkey legs, no one in our family really likes turkey.

Then what, you ask, will we eat for days after? You mean, what will we do without having dried out turkey between two slices of bread to eat for a week? hmmm. A puzzlement. How are we going to honor that post-Thanksgiving tradition? A friend suggested turkey pastrami. Brilliant.

So, the Jewish descendants of pilgrims (the ones that came in through Ellis Island) will celebrate with brisket and turkey pastrami. Culturally and gastronomically sensitive and sensible solution. Some good things do come out of committee.

Lest you think that cooking a brisket is easy, let me share what happened prior to Passover, when POB (partner of blogger) was testing out her brisket recipe on our fathers at our usual Sunday night dinners. SOB (sister of blogger) was unavailable that night, just when we needed her to referee the melee that ensued. POB bought an uber-kosher piece of brisket with just the right “marble” enough fat to keep it from drying out. First, let me say, it was a delicious brisket, notwithstanding what happened next.

Her father started to spit it out because it was too chewy and voiced his displeasure (what ever happened to if you don’t like it, don’t eat it and keep quiet?) and my father, trying to help, said, “[POB] dear, if you slice off the fat . . .. ” as POB’s face was getting red and her eyes are rolling back. I tried to whisper to my dad that he should stop instructing on the finer points of brisket, but so sure was he that he was bridging the gap between POB and her father so that we could share a kumbaya moment that he continued. It was a train crash that I could not stop.

Also, it is important to note that while my father thinks he has perfect hearing, it is only because he can’t hear the doctor tell him to get a hearing aid. So, when I am “whispering to my dad” that is code for screaming at the top of my lungs. Of course there were only the four of us at the table, because our son has excused himself and gone off to play. So, everyone could hear everything.

Each day before that Passover seder, POB’s dad called to see if we had reconsidered the brisket. For Passover, we bought two briskets, one really lean (and tasteless for the Grandpas) and a tender, marbled one for everyone else. Everyone was happy and there were no plagues befalling anyone.

So, while Thanksgiving isn’t like being in Fallujah, we all wear body armor.

Dinner Chez Obama

Posted on November 24, 2009 by 40andover

Does one need to be a huge important nation, like India, to get a dinner at the White House?

No-Where-istan is a tiny country (still in my head) but we would like to be recognized on the international stage. We have a national anthem, a flag, a motto and stamp. I bet Sealandia doesn’t have those.

Here are the pluses:

We wouldn’t require any fuss about the menu. We could bring deli food. We’ll order lean corned beef and pastrami but NO knishes, so it will be heart-healthy (healthy-ish).
We’ll use paper plates instead of the fancy china. Net-net, I believe that it is greener to have paper plates than have people wasting all that water hand-washing that fine china. (Also, less germs.)
Also, I have a great dance shuffle on my iPod, so we don’t need the orchestra. Still, I would like for the musicians to have paying gigs. So, I am a little torn.
We can have a cultural exchange: We can teach the Obamas to talk with food in their mouths. They can teach us how to eat arugula salad without spilling (we love arugula, but not as much as rugelach).
We don’t have a big entourage and we can take Metro-North there and back, so we don’t need to stay in the guest bedrooms at the White House (we are a small country and we can’t afford the donations required to do that).
The ministers and family and friends have no idea about protocol, so we can throw out the rule book and have some fun.
Look at the cost savings, which is important given that the nation is at its credit card limit.

Here is the minus:

We don’t have sovereign territory outside my head so this idea will have to stay on the agenda of the Ministry of Dreams and Aspirations for a little while longer.

The Blogger in my midst

Posted on November 11, 2009 by 40andover

So, after the funeral, I decide to work from home since most banks are closed (and my clients are banks). I return the rental car and make the mistake of hearkening back — with no one else in room — to the earlier conversation about menopause that I had with the same rental car sales assistant. She was not pleased. She had mentioned earlier that she has mood swings. I notice as I stand over the counter that she still hadn’t taken her vitamins. I decided not to mention that the name of the GPS NeverLost is a misnomer. And, I assume I am going to get a schmuck tax on top of the usual rental car costs. I am fine with all of it because, well, it is what it is.

I go to grab lunch and there is a woman sitting opposite me at the communal table in Le Pain Quotidienne. She looks at me as if she recognizes me. We hold a gaze for an extra second. I know that I don’t know her so I assume that she asked me a question and is waiting for a response. So, I say, “excuse me?” as if she said something. She didn’t. I apologize. I go back to my various devices of connectivity.

She types furiously on her laptop. I think she is a blogger. I wanted to say, “Hi, I’m 40andoverblog. Who are you?” But that would have sounded like the ookiest come-on line and that was not my intention.

I surreptitiously glance over at her from time to time, trying to see what she is typing. She catches me a few times. I have to leave now lest she think I have any interest other than uncovering a blogger and responds with interest or revulsion, neither of which I could handle.

I inhale my food and pay my bill.

I imagine that she is thinking, “wow, she reminds me of my mother”. I catch a cab and take to my bed.

Chicken in so many ways

Posted on November 9, 2009 by 40andover

I can eat cooked chicken, I can cut a cooked chicken and I am not bothered by chicken remains.

But, I cannot buy a raw chicken. It was on the list of groceries and I had to tell POB (partner of blogger) that I could not cope with that. The chicken is well, recognizable as a chicken, although it is headless and dead. And there is always a scare about bacteria with a raw, dead, chicken.

Meat is so much easier, because you don’t see the cow.

Thanksgiving is a nightmare in this regard. Not just some small bird, but a huge beast that is so big it needs a special pan. And then people talk about dressing the turkey. Work with me on this. On the start of Thanksgiving Day, there is a naked, dead, headless turkey with a plastic bag holding the gizzards stapled to it. Loooooooooovely. Does dressing the turkey make us feel better about a roasted dead, headless, naked bird on our dinner table? And what message am I sending to my son and brother-in-law who are bird nerds? That we will eat you one day? (We are tough family, but we only figuratively chew people up and spit them out.)

AND, eating leftovers means reliving this for a week.

So, this year: BRISKET.

Deja Vu All Over Again

Posted on November 4, 2009 by 40andover

I saw my sister in the gym tonight. Actually, I bumped into a trainer just outside the gym who told me my sister was working out. I looked shocked; the trainer then looked puzzled. You see, my sister has a stress fracture in her foot and should not be on an elliptical machine (and that is all she does at the gym when I am not around to coach her about weights). I march upstairs in my “street clothes” to confront my sister. I go to the heart of the matter and ask her whether she did, in fact, get her medical degree through a correspondence course with an off-shore medical school. In our family, that is the sum total of trash-talking.

After having laid down the gauntlet, my sister sputters some rationalizations, all of which I reject in an imperious way (after all I am a doctor, too — ok, a juris doctor). I give her THE LOOK (Mom’s look of disappointment). She doesn’t flinch. She is not my sister. My sister would have flinched. I am confronted by the realization that my sister’s body is inhabited by an alien who is not scared of THE LOOK. THE LOOK proves the old adage, “if looks could kill . . . ” Well, not exactly, but THE LOOK with the eyes of my mother can really make a person plead for forgiveness. No sign of recognition by the alien inhabiting my sister.

Still, she knows about “our” Dad’s procedure tomorrow. Clever aliens, these pod people.

So, I test this alien with other facts that my sister should know. I mention some things I had written in my blog. She is a little hazy about some of my latest entries. But she does zero in on some with incredible accuracy. I am not convinced yet but I leave to regroup and give the alien a false sense that she fooled the sister of her host body. I come back up and flash an old picture of my parents and my sister at camp visiting day, circa 1969. The alien looks at the picture, sighs and hugs me.

Maybe my sister is inhabited by an alien, but it is a really endearing alien. Maybe the alien can heal her stress fracture. Maybe the alien can help with my sagging neck. After all, aliens have special powers that can conquer humanity, or at least that is true in the movies.

“Networking” is a drag

Posted on October 29, 2009 by 40andover

So, last night, I go with a colleague to a networking party in our professional field. I realized after scanning the faces in the crows how many of my friends and clients lost jobs. I knew a few people there but not many. After I spoke to them, I decided that I would just introduce myself and start talking to whomever and even work my way toward introductions with potential business sources.

I was, in essence, speed-dating. Some conversation starters worked, some didn’t. Some situations were uncomfortable (as in former clients) and some were comical.

I was trying to meet this important guy who was clearly not interested in talking to me. But I planted myself next to him — why not? he doesn’t give us business now so what do I have to lose? — but unfortunately I also planted myself in the path of the waiter staff trying to pass hors d’oeuvres. Someone in the conversation asked me what I do (as in for a living), and “I said I try not to get in the way and I am not always successful” as another waiter nearly beheaded me (AND I had moved out of the way) with a tray of almond crusts chicken on skewers. Then we start talking about facilitating transactions and someone spills wine on my blazer. “Don’t worry,” I say, “the color is midnight blue so no one will notice”. Needless to say, I felt like the comic entertainment. And my blazer needs to be dry-cleaned.

FOOTBALL — Orrin Hatch’s Legislative Priority

Posted on October 21, 2009 by 40andover

You can’t make this stuff up.

We are fighting for economic recovery, we are fighting two wars, we are fighting multiple insurgents in the health care industry, we are trying to save the planet from our carbon emissions, we are trying to prevent nuclear proliferation and SENATOR ORRIN HATCH WANTS THE PRESIDENT TO INTERVENE ON COLLEGE FOOTBALL BOWL CHAMPIONSHIPS?

Sen. Hatch says there is some antitrust violation involved in the way the championships are decided. Senator, there may be another antitrust violation, too. It involves health care. Maybe you read about it.

Orrin, Orrin, Orrin. Do we live on the same planet? Don’t you have pressing matters of state in the Senate that require your UNDIVIDED focus? Are our national problems a joke to you? If you were a senator from New York, I would start a campaign to recall you.

By the way, in No-Where-istan, we have no organized sports leagues. Since No-Where-istan lives in my head, cleats would be painful.

********************************************************************************************

By FREDERIC J. FROMMER, Associated Press Writer Frederic J. Frommer, Associated Press Writer – 1 hr 9 mins ago

WASHINGTON – Shortly after winning last year’s presidential election, Barack Obama said he was going to “to throw my weight around a little bit” to nudge college football’s Bowl Championship Series to move to a playoff system.

On Wednesday, Sen. Orrin Hatch took him up on that.

Hatch asked the president to launch a Justice Department investigation into the way the BCS — a complex system of computer rankings and polls that often draws criticism — crowns its national champion.

“Mr. President, as you have publicly stated on multiple occasions, the BCS system is in dire need of reform,” Hatch, R-Utah, wrote in a 10-page letter, obtained by The Associated Press.

Hatch, who held a hearing on the BCS in July, told Obama that a “strong case” can be made that the BCS violates antitrust laws.

[rest of article omitted]

For Serious News, Turn on Comedy Central

Posted on October 13, 2009 by 40andover

Last night, Jon Stewart skewered CNN on its coverage of the health care debate. I love Jon Stewart because he points to the idiocy of the 24 hour news cycle and the schnews (schmooze plus news) or newsertainment that passes for pertinent information about our cities, our country and the world.

All the networks do is talk about finding out information, but they don’t really. They ask us what we think and then read from the Twitter responses. Fact-checking Saturday Night Live skits and not fact-checking what the politicians are saying is sheer idiocy. Spending more time on whether SNL is a bellwhether for Obama than the issues is a disservice to viewers.

Other than Jon Stewart and Bloomberg News, I don’t know where else on TV to get pertinent information. If I want comfort TV, I watch Rachel Maddow, because I agree with her views. But for cold, hard, factual news . . . Comedy Central? What an irony.

A typical day in my life

Posted on October 12, 2009 by 40andover

Crazy day on the road to Utopia.

I had every textbook stress dream a person can have. Teeth falling out. Not being dressed at work. Having to use the bathroom in front of people. Having to take an exam in a course at school I thought I dropped. Running and never making it where I need to go. Have I missed any?

I woke up in a cold sweat and groggy. My partner thinks it is because she put too much garlic in that new recipe she tried last night. While the amount of garlic was indeed impressive and did require a Tums or 5, it didn’t cause my bad dreams. Those I was able to conjure up all by myself.

So, I was exhausted when I started the day at the office. I was able to get some work done before my computer crashed. Apparently, everyone else’s computers worked. Mine was the only one frozen. Maybe it happened because I didn’t have a stress dream about it. Note to self: Don’t get out of bed until you’ve had EVERY stress dream imaginable.

I walked to the east side to have lunch with a friend. I bumped into the Columbus Day parade. A sad little affair with marchers dressed up in period clothes to look like people of Columbus’s time. If you want to parade, go to Randall’s island. Get out of my way in midtown. Although I did get perverse pleasure in being jostled into an Orthodox Jewish man who would not otherwise touch me lest I were ritually unclean (I was not).

I did have an opportunity to pass by a prayer station. I’m not kidding. See? Prayer is fine, but you think with all those who are praying, something would have changed by now. mail

I had a really fun lunch with my friend who is so hysterically funny. Because I want to maintain confidentiality of my sources, her stories will come out over time.

After fighting my computer for the rest of the day (the computer won), I went home on the train. There was a guy drizzling hot sauce on top of the hugest falafel I have ever seen, as he was swaying in the subway car. Shreds of lettuce were falling out of his mouth as he ate. I needed to switch cars at the next stop. In my next car, there was an angry child demanding “eye contact” from his mother and saying hateful things in jags and spurts. I think I witnessed a portrait of a sociopath as a young child. They got off and a bike messenger who reeked of pot got on and everything got sooooo mellow.

A day in the life.

Off to bed. To sleep, perhaps to dream. (Maybe I’ll make a pot of coffee and stay awake to keep the dreams at bay.)

40 — oh wait, yikes!! 50 — andoverblog

Aging and living in urban US

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