MORE SHORT TAKES

When my nephew was born, one of the first edicts issued by his proud and poleaxed father was that he should get new clothes and not wear his sister's hand-me-downs. What he meant, of course, was plain and simple "no pink for my son!" That went well up to a point; being of practical nature, my sister decided that nothing is going to happen if pink is evident on the baby boy when there are no witnesses. Case in point: one time I was about to lower him in his crib, when something struck me as strange. After couple of seconds I realized that his usual crib sheet was in the laundry, so, his Mama used the reserve we used to use for his sister. Yes, you guessed it: it was nice, bright, gorgeous-baby-girl-pink.

Another "only in New York" moment: there is an assisted living house next to me that is run by Catholic charities. At the end of last Passover, on recycling day, there was a whole bunch of bags for recycled paper that were filled with matzoh boxes (I assume they were recreating what they thought was the Last Supper).

Sometimes the extend of my neurosis bother me at bit (although you would never guess it lately, judging by the state of my apartment). Anyway, reassurances are always abound. One time, while I was doing my laundry, I had a chance to observe a couple that offered me one such reassurance. I was not sure as to the exact nature of their relationship, since he looked much older than her, but there was no striking resemblance present. Anyway, that was not the reason they attracted me; what really caught my attention was that they were obviously germophobic. Imagine my amusement when I realized that they wasted about two and a half hours to wash about ten towels, nothing less! Definitely puts my obsession (alas, absent lately) to do my laundry on the weekly basis in perspective.

I had an LA-born roommate who prided herself on the fact that she could out-drink Russians; of course, after she explained precisely which Russians she out-drank, her claim became sort of laughable. Here is another chapter from her drinking diary. One fine late afternoon on December thirty first, she and a couple of her buddies decided to go to Times Square and witness the Ball Drop. By the time they arrived, they were, to use her colourful expression, "drunk out of their asses". So, here they were, freezing, but happy, waiting to witness this wonderful part of the New York life that New Yorkers usually observe from the comfort of their living rooms. Imagine their surprise when everyone started yelling "Happy New Year", and they did not see anything. Upon further investigation their realized that their drunken behinds, and not their drunken faces, were facing that Ball.

Only people with my educational background and in my age category could understand the attraction of Angelique; it is impossible to explain it rationally; you just have to experience the whole thing under these particular circumstances. Americans, of course, usually have no idea about the books or the movies (one time when I will not say that their cultural exposure is deficient). Anyway, imagine my surprised delight, when I have wondered into Barnes and Noble, and saw all five movies on DVD, in French with English subtitles! Further imagine my delight (but not surprise this time) when I saw that these movies are about 135 minutes in length, and not 75 minutes as was standard in Russian cinematography.

Another terrible confession to my sister: I got baby books for both munchkins, and I had great ideas as to what should be written in them. Unfortunately, it never went past the ideas.

I am not a morning person, and never was. I am not really awake till about three hours after I have actually left my bed. Thankfully, I am very capable of operating on auto-pilot. Unfortunately, sometimes auto-pilot does not function one hundred percent, and, not being awake one hundred percent, it is very hard to figure out exactly where the malfunction is. Two separate episodes: one time I came to work knowing perfectly well that something was amiss, but could not put my finger on it. Finally, into about forty minutes of work, it dawned on me that I did not brush my teeth. Oh, mama! Thank G-d I always keep a toothbrush and toothpaste in my drawer! Another episode: I kept wondering about the state of my hair. I mean, I am not fussy about them that much, but it looked like the shampoo I was using had to be changed. Eventually I realized that I never shampooed my hair that morning! I just wet my hair, and that was it. Thankfully, I am pretty sure I am save from leaving my house minus a skirt or a top (although there are no guarantees).

Some days I really feel my age (thank G-d at least I do not show it yet!). Anyway, here is one of my senior moments. I wanted to mail something to my sister, and for the life of me I could not remember her address. Total blank! Finally, an inspiration struck: I decided to check my Gevalia account, since my coffee usually went to her address. Thank G-d for auto login!

Sometimes I wonder if it pays to show initiative and use your brain to capacity at a modern work place. Recently, our company switched to a new accounting system, which eventually created chaos and backlog across the board, but that is a different story. Anyway, there was a whole brouhaha about training everyone on how to enter our time logs in the new system. After about five minutes into that training I realized that two sentences of instruction would have sufficed, but what do I know. Anyway, while everybody else struggled and puffed, I was the first (and only one) to finish and print my time sheet that Friday (granted, I only perform one task). Anyway, on Monday I was red-flagged as the only person in our office who did not finish and submit her log. What the hell?!!! After about five minutes of deductions I found out that apparently, over the weekend, our wonderful IT overhauled the whole program once more. So, anything you did on Friday was null and void; only things done Monday morning counted. As I said, efficiency does not pay.