My Memorial Day weekend was basically uneventful.
Aside from the fact that meteorologists miscalculated for a change, and instead of cool and breezy we had warm and pretty muggy weekend, I had a nice Shabat, spruced up by another visit from Mini Me and her Mommy.
On Sunday we finally made it to "pak" on "tchu tchu" train. To Papi's everlasting delight, it turns out that now the newly renovated "pak" station is fully accessible. Hurray! Maybe I will try and persuade Mini Not Me to come with us as well (or rather, hope that he will last without Mommy for more than half an hour). Either way, G-d help me!; even though I am really looking forward to it. Our time in the "pak" was delightful as usual, but unfortunately cut a bit short by the rain. Also, since our last visit, Mini Me seemed to adopt one of her parents' idiosyncrasies, and refused to go on the grass barefoot. Pity! On top of that, she almost lost her Tigger from her adorable yellow croc; to which I suggested relocating Tigger to my bag, and solemnly promised her to watch for him till we get home. She kept checking to make sure I actually do have him, but forgot to claim Tigger at home. So, I still got him in my bag; and I just gaze at him with a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart.
Then, on Monday, it was the beginning of a long and torturous process of cleaning my apartment (punctuated by some dopey TV re-runs). As I said, pretty uneventful.
There were ad for sales everywhere I turned my head. I even got an e-mail from some kind of adult toy company about their special for Memorial Day. A lot of people were enjoying barbeques, long weekends, extra sale opportunities, and fine weather. Memorial Day is also an official start of the air-conditioning season. What travesty!
My neighborhood is noted for precious few flags displayed on private houses. Is it because it is mainly populated by minorities, immigrants, illegals, and "extra religious" people? Mind you, all of them enjoy the blessings offered by this country (legally or not), but none of them are willing to acknowledge it. At best, they are oblivious; at worst, they are disgustingly hostile and hateful. My favorite expression "ungrateful swine" readily comes to mind.
I wanted to get a T-shirt that reads "Home of the Free because of the Brave"; naturally, with my organizational skills, it will materialize on Veteran's day. But the sentiment is in my heart.
So, here is to all the American brave who have fallen in the fight for freedom; for them the antiquated notions of bravery, honor and patriotism were not just empty and meaningless words. This survivor of Communist hell and grateful American patriot salutes you!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
WEEKEND UPDATE
Editor's note: this post was originally slated to appear on May 18. Due to the circumstances beyond my control (as in I actually had to work) it appears today instead.
OK, here is another weekend update.
My weekend tale started Friday night at the house of the friend where I usually get into "discussions". This time she had over "family friends" whom I met before, and who got themselves imprinted on my memory due to the extreme chutzpah displayed by their "baby". Anyway, I was determined to keep my tongue firmly behind my teeth or occupied with food only.
That resolution lasted till the conversation topic veered in the general direction of education, at which point the matriarch of the family uttered the brilliant phrase about math not being necessary for the general education since "you hardly use it anyway"; and about two minutes later history was relegated to the same pile. At which point my tongue could not taste the soup in peace and decided to speak in defense of math (forget about history) to the tune of it being beneficial to the occasional exercise of your brains. Yea, right! That opinion, though seconded by our hostess, still remained in minority. Few minutes later Pater familias enquired about my present occupation; upon hearing that I work as an office manager in an architectural firm, his wife promptly proclaimed that that is the reason why I think math is necessary! I just clarified that my job is purely administrative, and has nothing to do with architecture, but that did not really deter her; few minutes later the conversation progressed to makeup. Oy, gevalt! Who was it that claimed that we are the smartest nation?
Next day, Mini Me was full of anticipation: she had a play date with one of her friends from playgroup. She was feeling very grown up, and even expressed the desire to have cholent (in her mind it was: have meal=eat cholent, then go to her friend). The let down came way before dessert: friend's father knocked on the door with the deflating news that the friend had fever, and could not possibly receive guests. Poor Mini Me! So, as a consolation, I offered her visit to George. The said invitation was graciously accepted, and Golden Delicious spent a part of the afternoon in my humble abode visiting with George and exploring the fascinating world of my strange possessions.
On Sunday, plans to have an outing on "chu chu train with single stroller" somehow ended up cancelled, partly due to the inclement weather, and partly due to Mini Not Me being extra cranky. So, both sets of delicious checks and their owners were packed up into the double stroller and we departed on an exciting expedition to a wonderful place called Dunkin Donuts.
On the way there we spotted a lot of trees, cars, beautiful flowers in different patterns, and different birdies. Once there, I was obliged to buy them their favorite donuts: chocolate frosted with sprinkles (blech). Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, decided that on that particular day she wanted pink, not chocolate, frosted with sprinkles; the arrival of a large group of new costumers deflected her from that particular thought, thank G-d.
Anyway, after about fifteen minutes at DD, the combined influences of consumed sugar and some forced inactivity on the way there produced extra lively behavior on the part of the Gnomes. Of course, the one person in the entire store to give them repeated dirty looks had to be another religious Jewish woman. What gives?
After exiting the store, I offered an excursion of the exiting South Brooklyn; which offer was met with very enthusiastic approval. So, up the Flatbush Avenue we went. On the way we saw couple of very "interesting" stores (oh, to be young again); one store, however, was interesting to me: it advertised itself as psychic shop, but was definitely a voodoo store. The stuff you find in your neighborhood!
Finally, we came to a big shiny store (known to adults at Target). Munchkins immediately spotted the soda fountain, so I had to deflect their attention somehow, and offered them iced tea. "Are you guys OK with one cup and two straws?" "Yes, Papi; yes, Papi; we want two cups and two straws." So, two cups it was. Of course, while I was waiting for them, Mini Not Me succumbed to Morpheus. Mini Me, after having two sips from her cup and observing for a bit through the floor to ceiling glass the fauna of the neighborhood, graciously agreed to take a tour of the store.
The said tour began with a "toilet that was flushing by itself!” Then we progressed to ladies accessories, where Golden Delicious had a blast trying on hats and sunglasses, and checking out handbags and wallets.
After a considerable chunk of time spent of those exercises, we went to the next level. There, Mini Me selected two sets of dishes (for her and her little brother), after which she had a great time trying on all different kinds of kid furniture for size. She even wanted to check out a dresser, at which point I had to disappoint her by pointing out that I cannot possibly plunk it down from the top shelf. She took it in stride, and decided to borrow my camera instead. Later, while I was reviewing the shots she took, I realized that she actually put some artistic thought into it. She took pictures of: her sleeping brother, her empty place in the stroller occupied by her set of dishes, the chair she was eyeing with intent to buy it with her brother's set of dishes in it, and Papi (the most flattering part of her).
During these activities Mini Not Me woke up. So, the final part of the tour was conducted for the benefit of both of the Gnomes, with the end purchase of: a Princess Coloring book with paints, Elmo sticker book, a cute set for baking cupcakes, and I honestly do not recall what else. Mini Not Me was not being extremely discriminating and basically expressed a desire to acquire about half of the toy department. Mini Me, on the other hand, had her heart set on a beautiful doll house, completed with dolls and furniture. I had to solemnly swear that as soon as I get a better paying job, I am coming back and buying her that doll house. She promptly agreed to that, and then refused to budge anyway. So, the cupcake set was actually her graciously accepted consolation prize.
After returning home, she proudly showed Mama all the purchases, after which she made her royal decision to dedicate the new dishes to "burgers and hot dogs" meals as opposed to "cheese" meals. And after that she proceeded to make cupcakes for all the known to her members of the family, present of absent.
OK, here is another weekend update.
My weekend tale started Friday night at the house of the friend where I usually get into "discussions". This time she had over "family friends" whom I met before, and who got themselves imprinted on my memory due to the extreme chutzpah displayed by their "baby". Anyway, I was determined to keep my tongue firmly behind my teeth or occupied with food only.
That resolution lasted till the conversation topic veered in the general direction of education, at which point the matriarch of the family uttered the brilliant phrase about math not being necessary for the general education since "you hardly use it anyway"; and about two minutes later history was relegated to the same pile. At which point my tongue could not taste the soup in peace and decided to speak in defense of math (forget about history) to the tune of it being beneficial to the occasional exercise of your brains. Yea, right! That opinion, though seconded by our hostess, still remained in minority. Few minutes later Pater familias enquired about my present occupation; upon hearing that I work as an office manager in an architectural firm, his wife promptly proclaimed that that is the reason why I think math is necessary! I just clarified that my job is purely administrative, and has nothing to do with architecture, but that did not really deter her; few minutes later the conversation progressed to makeup. Oy, gevalt! Who was it that claimed that we are the smartest nation?
Next day, Mini Me was full of anticipation: she had a play date with one of her friends from playgroup. She was feeling very grown up, and even expressed the desire to have cholent (in her mind it was: have meal=eat cholent, then go to her friend). The let down came way before dessert: friend's father knocked on the door with the deflating news that the friend had fever, and could not possibly receive guests. Poor Mini Me! So, as a consolation, I offered her visit to George. The said invitation was graciously accepted, and Golden Delicious spent a part of the afternoon in my humble abode visiting with George and exploring the fascinating world of my strange possessions.
On Sunday, plans to have an outing on "chu chu train with single stroller" somehow ended up cancelled, partly due to the inclement weather, and partly due to Mini Not Me being extra cranky. So, both sets of delicious checks and their owners were packed up into the double stroller and we departed on an exciting expedition to a wonderful place called Dunkin Donuts.
On the way there we spotted a lot of trees, cars, beautiful flowers in different patterns, and different birdies. Once there, I was obliged to buy them their favorite donuts: chocolate frosted with sprinkles (blech). Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, decided that on that particular day she wanted pink, not chocolate, frosted with sprinkles; the arrival of a large group of new costumers deflected her from that particular thought, thank G-d.
Anyway, after about fifteen minutes at DD, the combined influences of consumed sugar and some forced inactivity on the way there produced extra lively behavior on the part of the Gnomes. Of course, the one person in the entire store to give them repeated dirty looks had to be another religious Jewish woman. What gives?
After exiting the store, I offered an excursion of the exiting South Brooklyn; which offer was met with very enthusiastic approval. So, up the Flatbush Avenue we went. On the way we saw couple of very "interesting" stores (oh, to be young again); one store, however, was interesting to me: it advertised itself as psychic shop, but was definitely a voodoo store. The stuff you find in your neighborhood!
Finally, we came to a big shiny store (known to adults at Target). Munchkins immediately spotted the soda fountain, so I had to deflect their attention somehow, and offered them iced tea. "Are you guys OK with one cup and two straws?" "Yes, Papi; yes, Papi; we want two cups and two straws." So, two cups it was. Of course, while I was waiting for them, Mini Not Me succumbed to Morpheus. Mini Me, after having two sips from her cup and observing for a bit through the floor to ceiling glass the fauna of the neighborhood, graciously agreed to take a tour of the store.
The said tour began with a "toilet that was flushing by itself!” Then we progressed to ladies accessories, where Golden Delicious had a blast trying on hats and sunglasses, and checking out handbags and wallets.
After a considerable chunk of time spent of those exercises, we went to the next level. There, Mini Me selected two sets of dishes (for her and her little brother), after which she had a great time trying on all different kinds of kid furniture for size. She even wanted to check out a dresser, at which point I had to disappoint her by pointing out that I cannot possibly plunk it down from the top shelf. She took it in stride, and decided to borrow my camera instead. Later, while I was reviewing the shots she took, I realized that she actually put some artistic thought into it. She took pictures of: her sleeping brother, her empty place in the stroller occupied by her set of dishes, the chair she was eyeing with intent to buy it with her brother's set of dishes in it, and Papi (the most flattering part of her).
During these activities Mini Not Me woke up. So, the final part of the tour was conducted for the benefit of both of the Gnomes, with the end purchase of: a Princess Coloring book with paints, Elmo sticker book, a cute set for baking cupcakes, and I honestly do not recall what else. Mini Not Me was not being extremely discriminating and basically expressed a desire to acquire about half of the toy department. Mini Me, on the other hand, had her heart set on a beautiful doll house, completed with dolls and furniture. I had to solemnly swear that as soon as I get a better paying job, I am coming back and buying her that doll house. She promptly agreed to that, and then refused to budge anyway. So, the cupcake set was actually her graciously accepted consolation prize.
After returning home, she proudly showed Mama all the purchases, after which she made her royal decision to dedicate the new dishes to "burgers and hot dogs" meals as opposed to "cheese" meals. And after that she proceeded to make cupcakes for all the known to her members of the family, present of absent.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
THANK YOU, HEAVENLY FATHER!
Thank you for watching over us!
As you know, four black Muslims (surprise of surprises) were arrested for planning to blow up two synagogues in Riverdale and to shoot military planes at the New York Air National Guard base at Stewart Airport in Newburgh with Stinger surface-to-air guided missiles. Basically, to use their own words, they "wanted to do something to America" - and the Jews, of course.
The propaganda machine, otherwise known as the media, and the cowardly, corrupt, and dumb politicians are already hard at work trying to downplay the whole thing. Headlines do not blare about Muslims and blacks, just "four men" or "four suspects". They are quick to emphasize and reiterate that those four are not really connected to any organization, were under observation for a year, therefor presented no real danger, and, most importantly, they are not very bright (yea, as opposed to Mohammed Atta, who had an IQ of 175 and was a long time Mensa member). As usual, am I very disgusted, but not surprised.
And, most importantly, right now I really do not care about those gutless bastards. I am just very grateful to Him.
As you know, four black Muslims (surprise of surprises) were arrested for planning to blow up two synagogues in Riverdale and to shoot military planes at the New York Air National Guard base at Stewart Airport in Newburgh with Stinger surface-to-air guided missiles. Basically, to use their own words, they "wanted to do something to America" - and the Jews, of course.
The propaganda machine, otherwise known as the media, and the cowardly, corrupt, and dumb politicians are already hard at work trying to downplay the whole thing. Headlines do not blare about Muslims and blacks, just "four men" or "four suspects". They are quick to emphasize and reiterate that those four are not really connected to any organization, were under observation for a year, therefor presented no real danger, and, most importantly, they are not very bright (yea, as opposed to Mohammed Atta, who had an IQ of 175 and was a long time Mensa member). As usual, am I very disgusted, but not surprised.
And, most importantly, right now I really do not care about those gutless bastards. I am just very grateful to Him.
Friday, May 15, 2009
STRANGE THOUGHT
Recently, Retired General Colin Powell decided to get up and offer some unsolicited political advice.
Since the respected retired warrior showed his true colors a long time ago (at least to me), I tried to basically ignore his latest rant. But there was one vignette that caught my attention.
He blobbed something to the tune that somebody (I do not remember precisely if it were conservatives, or GOP, or some other related entity) should realized that Americans want more government control in their lives, not less.
With all due respect and admiration, general, people who do not or cannot control their lives (or, at least the overwhelming majority of aspects in their lives) are not free people. They are slaves. Believe me, I know! That is one of the many lessons offered to us by The Old Testament in relation to the Exodus from Egypt and subsequent events. And that is also one constant I observed in many people from step-mother country.
Just something to mull over in your time free from endorsing the enemies of this country, general.
Since the respected retired warrior showed his true colors a long time ago (at least to me), I tried to basically ignore his latest rant. But there was one vignette that caught my attention.
He blobbed something to the tune that somebody (I do not remember precisely if it were conservatives, or GOP, or some other related entity) should realized that Americans want more government control in their lives, not less.
With all due respect and admiration, general, people who do not or cannot control their lives (or, at least the overwhelming majority of aspects in their lives) are not free people. They are slaves. Believe me, I know! That is one of the many lessons offered to us by The Old Testament in relation to the Exodus from Egypt and subsequent events. And that is also one constant I observed in many people from step-mother country.
Just something to mull over in your time free from endorsing the enemies of this country, general.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Babylon 5: End of the Third Season
One of the best parts of the whole series, in my opinion. How come warriors like Sheridan only get crazy fans if they appear in science fiction?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
NEWS (BREAKING AND OTHERWISE)
I love opening the Internet with my first cup of coffee and perusing the headlines offered by MSM or Yahoo. It is especially entertaining on Monday mornings. Yesterday was no exception.
For starters, some entity or other, very influential and informed, published a list of ten countries whose occupants were the happiest. Unsurprisingly, USA did not make the list.
Hum, let's see. The productive part of us works pretty hard (hardest in the world, by the way). After that, three branches of government confiscate a nice chunk of it (from 25% to infinity) in order to support their own bloated apparatuses, all manner of deadbeats (homegrown and imported), around twenty millions of illegals and their progeny, unwashed hippies masquerading as intellectuals and college professors, hardened criminals on death row who bleat to all and sundry about the social injustice done to them, blood-thirsty thugs from UN, and all kind of other assorted ungrateful swine on our soil and around the world. If we protest this highway robbery, we are locked up in the federal pen (together with the above-mentioned murderers). Lately, we also managed to accumulate enough psychos and idiots masquerading as registered voters to end up with the Executive and Legislative branches we have today. We are dubbed "The Great Satan" by the most blood-thirsty mass murderers alive today. Anything to smile about? For me personally, and I am sure for millions of my fellow Americans, the fact that we are Americans is in itself a blessing. With G-d's help and blessing, we will overcome the above-mentioned menace as well.
Another bit of news: Miss California may lose her crown due to (insert the list of assorted nonsense). The truth is: she dared to speak against one of liberals' holy cows; which opened a floodgate of the vicious attacks by those self-described defenders of human rights. Burt Prelutsky, being his usual blunt self, added a great vignette to this: she is white, blond and blue-eyed. If she was black, her statement would not have been such an issue. As of "press time", Donald, for whatever reasons, deemed Carrie Prejean worthy of her title. The said piece of news makes me rejoice to no end: not as a fan of Miss America pageant, but as an American citizen.
The other piece of news from last week was not breaking, judging by the way it was covered (or, rather, not covered) by the kissers of Obama's behind (otherwise known as the media). Somewhere in the depths of the State of Louisiana an American citizen was stopped on the road by the police and detained for half an hour on suspicion of being a right-wing extremist. His horrible crime? A pro-Constitutional bumper sticker, O Horror Of Horrors! The witch hunt is officially on!
Lastly, His Holiness decided to visit the Holy Land and utter His Esteemed Opinion to the tune of there would be no peace in the Middle East if we do not have a Palestinian State (on the land currently belonging to Israel, aka The Little Satan, of course).
Previously, I already offered my opinion in regards to the utter cowardice and stupidity displayed by the heads of the Catholic Church. Allow me to re-iterate some pertinent points. One: how about first you guys clean your own house, which at the present is infiltrated with homosexuals, pedophiles, and homosexual pedophiles. Two: show some self-respect. Half-Kenyan, half-Muslim bastard agrees to speak at Georgetown only after all the references to what you call The Son are covered, and you do not boo. Self-same bastard, who claims that is it above his pay grade to save unwanted children who miraculously survived abortion (and if I am not mistaken, abortion is a serious abomination in your estimation) is invited to speak at Notre Dame; your simple flock is protesting (vehemently); the heads of Notre Dame (and their superiors) do not boo. I am not even starting about the religion of peace, from whose members' behinds your heads are due to be extracted surgically. Three: if you attack fiction books, at least read them first: in my humble opinion the biggest threat to you comes not from Dan Brown, never mind Harry Potter. The biggest threat comes from Philip Pullman, and he himself was surprised at how little he was picked on. Finally, contaminate your souls a bit and read Harry Potter. It will teach you the beauty of standing up to your convictions no matter the personal cost, and the bravery and the purity of soul necessary in order to fight and defeat the True Evil.
For starters, some entity or other, very influential and informed, published a list of ten countries whose occupants were the happiest. Unsurprisingly, USA did not make the list.
Hum, let's see. The productive part of us works pretty hard (hardest in the world, by the way). After that, three branches of government confiscate a nice chunk of it (from 25% to infinity) in order to support their own bloated apparatuses, all manner of deadbeats (homegrown and imported), around twenty millions of illegals and their progeny, unwashed hippies masquerading as intellectuals and college professors, hardened criminals on death row who bleat to all and sundry about the social injustice done to them, blood-thirsty thugs from UN, and all kind of other assorted ungrateful swine on our soil and around the world. If we protest this highway robbery, we are locked up in the federal pen (together with the above-mentioned murderers). Lately, we also managed to accumulate enough psychos and idiots masquerading as registered voters to end up with the Executive and Legislative branches we have today. We are dubbed "The Great Satan" by the most blood-thirsty mass murderers alive today. Anything to smile about? For me personally, and I am sure for millions of my fellow Americans, the fact that we are Americans is in itself a blessing. With G-d's help and blessing, we will overcome the above-mentioned menace as well.
Another bit of news: Miss California may lose her crown due to (insert the list of assorted nonsense). The truth is: she dared to speak against one of liberals' holy cows; which opened a floodgate of the vicious attacks by those self-described defenders of human rights. Burt Prelutsky, being his usual blunt self, added a great vignette to this: she is white, blond and blue-eyed. If she was black, her statement would not have been such an issue. As of "press time", Donald, for whatever reasons, deemed Carrie Prejean worthy of her title. The said piece of news makes me rejoice to no end: not as a fan of Miss America pageant, but as an American citizen.
The other piece of news from last week was not breaking, judging by the way it was covered (or, rather, not covered) by the kissers of Obama's behind (otherwise known as the media). Somewhere in the depths of the State of Louisiana an American citizen was stopped on the road by the police and detained for half an hour on suspicion of being a right-wing extremist. His horrible crime? A pro-Constitutional bumper sticker, O Horror Of Horrors! The witch hunt is officially on!
Lastly, His Holiness decided to visit the Holy Land and utter His Esteemed Opinion to the tune of there would be no peace in the Middle East if we do not have a Palestinian State (on the land currently belonging to Israel, aka The Little Satan, of course).
Previously, I already offered my opinion in regards to the utter cowardice and stupidity displayed by the heads of the Catholic Church. Allow me to re-iterate some pertinent points. One: how about first you guys clean your own house, which at the present is infiltrated with homosexuals, pedophiles, and homosexual pedophiles. Two: show some self-respect. Half-Kenyan, half-Muslim bastard agrees to speak at Georgetown only after all the references to what you call The Son are covered, and you do not boo. Self-same bastard, who claims that is it above his pay grade to save unwanted children who miraculously survived abortion (and if I am not mistaken, abortion is a serious abomination in your estimation) is invited to speak at Notre Dame; your simple flock is protesting (vehemently); the heads of Notre Dame (and their superiors) do not boo. I am not even starting about the religion of peace, from whose members' behinds your heads are due to be extracted surgically. Three: if you attack fiction books, at least read them first: in my humble opinion the biggest threat to you comes not from Dan Brown, never mind Harry Potter. The biggest threat comes from Philip Pullman, and he himself was surprised at how little he was picked on. Finally, contaminate your souls a bit and read Harry Potter. It will teach you the beauty of standing up to your convictions no matter the personal cost, and the bravery and the purity of soul necessary in order to fight and defeat the True Evil.
WEEKEND UPDATE
Finally, our fair, smelly, and overcrowded city was blessed with a gorgeous spring weekend! So, yours truly was finally able to fulfill the many requests of Golden Delicious, and take her out on an outing "on tshu tshu train in a single stroller".
Sunday being The Mother's Day, sibling and munchkins went to visit Yummy (Grandma) and give her "balun" and flowers (and straighten out her apartment a bit). So, Papi was dispatched to chateau de soeur to prepare for the big event. Apparently, Mini Me was really fired up about our proposed trip already, because she kept postulating about trains, Papis, and single strollers. Mini Not Me, being a perfect sponge, also expressed a burning desire of taking a trip on the chu chu. Mini Me, with all the authority of the older, therefor more informed, sibling told Mini Not Me in no uncertain terms that Papi is taking the single stroller, and there is simply no room for him.
In the end, when we were saying our good buys, Mini Not Me got upset, which made me upset also. In my defense I can only say that I am sure he was just parroting his big sister, and would have been loudly demanding "Mommy" about five minutes into the train ride. I actually came up with a plan for the next Sunday. I will take my neffie pooh first, walk to the subway, take a train, and ride to the next accessible station; at which point I can get off, board the train going in the opposite direction, and deliver him safely to Mommy. Hope it works!
Here are the highlights of our trip:
Mini Me succumbed to Morpheus on the way there, despite very serious assurances of her not being tired (our standard family trait).
We visited the new shopping mall at Columbus Circle, where a statue of a very tall and very fat naked man attracted her attention. "It is so funny, Papi!" As usual, she showed an impeccable taste and succinct way of expressing herself.
We took a walk along the Central Park South, where we encountered many, many horseys, some of them with pom poms on their heads; the source of strange stink was also explained as "horsey poopy".
Papi, being an eternal optimist, decided to check if we can go to the Central Park Zoo on Mother's Day (which also happened to be the first decent spring Sunday) without waiting too much on line. All I can say is: Thank G-d Mini Me did not figure out what was happening; and, needless to say, that activity was scratched off the list.
We obtained a cute balloon from a group of Russian musicians (whom I met last fall), who moonlight (or is it sunlight) as the kiddy entertainers in Central Park. I was not recognized, and got one of the best compliments ("I would never have pegged you as a Russian-speaking").
We also made a little round around the duck pond and saw duckys and turtles. Unfortunately, due to the fact that ALL the lawns around the pond had the "newly seeded" enclosures around them; and I did not feel like setting a bad example and breaking the rule ( like a lot of people appeared to be), the pond lost its appeal pretty quickly, and we had to move on.
Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, appointed yours truly her Official Balloon Carrier (aside from her Official Stroller Pusher). Unfortunately, on the way to our next destination, half of the balloon did not survive (for which I am blaming passing smokers).
Next stop was Dylan's Candy Shop (sorry, Candy Bar). This place is very dear to our hearts, because it witnessed her first independent steps! Anyway, I was not there for over a year; it looks like they have renovated in that time and became a three-(instead of two-) floor establishment. They have really great decor, which includs stairs made to look like globs of something see-thorough with all different kind of candy stuck in it. Unfortunately, great decor did not include the elevator. Go figure!
The main battle in Dylan's was to persuade Mini Me that not all sweets displayed were kosher; the lesser battle was to persuade her that she does not need a stuffed bunny for $20. My sweet girl eventually put the bunny back and allowed for kosher substitutions. We also got a big bag of Jelly Bellies for Mommy for Mommy's Day; I was pointing at the jars and explaining the flavors, and she was telling me if, in her august opinion, that particular flavor and color was worth it. She also got a smaller bag for her brother. After that we visited the cafe (very sunny and brightly decorated), where I was obliged to purchase her an over-priced Coke. At least half of that Coke miraculously came back to the chateau, where it elicited my sister’s suspicious glance and an even more suspicious question of “what precisely it this?” While in the cafe, Mini Me sampled everything we bought, making wise suggestions as to whatever or not her younger brother would be able to eat it, due to his as yet not full complement of teeth.
Next stop was the Disney Store, where I was obliged by my word of honor to purchase a "horsey" (otherwise known as Princess Carriage with Horses decorated in the revolting shade of pink). Why I was obliged to give my word of honor will remain a secret.
In between our stops, we walked for quite a while (or rather I was walking and pushing Mini Me in the stroller). During our travels we observed goodly amount of "goggies", babies, "baluns", fountains, and funny sculptures. We also saw a store with Kalla Dresses and another store with funny chandelier, and yet another store with very old furniture. OK, we were walking along Madison and Park avenues; but I love the way all those stuffy designer and other establishments were reduced to such simple descriptions.
Papi was also reminded, rather forcefully, that she is a bit out of shape (G-d willing, gym membership is coming as soon as certain aspects of personal life are resolved next month).
On the way back I decided to dispense with good manners (please forgive me, Mom and Dad), and simply barrel my way though the subway car towards the seat, in order to avoid having to apologize to Mini Me's parents again for cursing in front of their impressionable child. Once we arrived at our destination, three black women (without any signs of wheelchairs, canes, or strollers), pushed ahead of me into the elevator. I was not able to outmaneuver this unholy trinity because I felt bad for another woman with the stroller, who came the elevator ahead of me, and was also pushed aside. Just wondering - what would happen if three white women with no apparent need for the elevator pushed ahead of the black woman with a stroller?
I also needed to haul the stroller with Mini Me in it up the stairs twice. Both times I have encountered a decent amount of indecent jerks. I also encountered two young guys who went out of their way to help me. Both were younger than I, which leaves me hoping that chivalry is not dead. Both also wished me a Happy Mother's Day.
Upon our arrival back at the chateau, Mini Me shared a Big Secret with Mommy: her tooth was shaking. Our big girl!
She also had a candy party with her little brother, which resulted in a great deal of noise and a lovely tussle.
Over all, the aching bones and muscles were totally worth hearing that she also confidentially told Mommy that she went to "a museum with Mickey and candy, and she drunk Coke".
Sunday being The Mother's Day, sibling and munchkins went to visit Yummy (Grandma) and give her "balun" and flowers (and straighten out her apartment a bit). So, Papi was dispatched to chateau de soeur to prepare for the big event. Apparently, Mini Me was really fired up about our proposed trip already, because she kept postulating about trains, Papis, and single strollers. Mini Not Me, being a perfect sponge, also expressed a burning desire of taking a trip on the chu chu. Mini Me, with all the authority of the older, therefor more informed, sibling told Mini Not Me in no uncertain terms that Papi is taking the single stroller, and there is simply no room for him.
In the end, when we were saying our good buys, Mini Not Me got upset, which made me upset also. In my defense I can only say that I am sure he was just parroting his big sister, and would have been loudly demanding "Mommy" about five minutes into the train ride. I actually came up with a plan for the next Sunday. I will take my neffie pooh first, walk to the subway, take a train, and ride to the next accessible station; at which point I can get off, board the train going in the opposite direction, and deliver him safely to Mommy. Hope it works!
Here are the highlights of our trip:
Mini Me succumbed to Morpheus on the way there, despite very serious assurances of her not being tired (our standard family trait).
We visited the new shopping mall at Columbus Circle, where a statue of a very tall and very fat naked man attracted her attention. "It is so funny, Papi!" As usual, she showed an impeccable taste and succinct way of expressing herself.
We took a walk along the Central Park South, where we encountered many, many horseys, some of them with pom poms on their heads; the source of strange stink was also explained as "horsey poopy".
Papi, being an eternal optimist, decided to check if we can go to the Central Park Zoo on Mother's Day (which also happened to be the first decent spring Sunday) without waiting too much on line. All I can say is: Thank G-d Mini Me did not figure out what was happening; and, needless to say, that activity was scratched off the list.
We obtained a cute balloon from a group of Russian musicians (whom I met last fall), who moonlight (or is it sunlight) as the kiddy entertainers in Central Park. I was not recognized, and got one of the best compliments ("I would never have pegged you as a Russian-speaking").
We also made a little round around the duck pond and saw duckys and turtles. Unfortunately, due to the fact that ALL the lawns around the pond had the "newly seeded" enclosures around them; and I did not feel like setting a bad example and breaking the rule ( like a lot of people appeared to be), the pond lost its appeal pretty quickly, and we had to move on.
Mini Me, for reasons known only to her, appointed yours truly her Official Balloon Carrier (aside from her Official Stroller Pusher). Unfortunately, on the way to our next destination, half of the balloon did not survive (for which I am blaming passing smokers).
Next stop was Dylan's Candy Shop (sorry, Candy Bar). This place is very dear to our hearts, because it witnessed her first independent steps! Anyway, I was not there for over a year; it looks like they have renovated in that time and became a three-(instead of two-) floor establishment. They have really great decor, which includs stairs made to look like globs of something see-thorough with all different kind of candy stuck in it. Unfortunately, great decor did not include the elevator. Go figure!
The main battle in Dylan's was to persuade Mini Me that not all sweets displayed were kosher; the lesser battle was to persuade her that she does not need a stuffed bunny for $20. My sweet girl eventually put the bunny back and allowed for kosher substitutions. We also got a big bag of Jelly Bellies for Mommy for Mommy's Day; I was pointing at the jars and explaining the flavors, and she was telling me if, in her august opinion, that particular flavor and color was worth it. She also got a smaller bag for her brother. After that we visited the cafe (very sunny and brightly decorated), where I was obliged to purchase her an over-priced Coke. At least half of that Coke miraculously came back to the chateau, where it elicited my sister’s suspicious glance and an even more suspicious question of “what precisely it this?” While in the cafe, Mini Me sampled everything we bought, making wise suggestions as to whatever or not her younger brother would be able to eat it, due to his as yet not full complement of teeth.
Next stop was the Disney Store, where I was obliged by my word of honor to purchase a "horsey" (otherwise known as Princess Carriage with Horses decorated in the revolting shade of pink). Why I was obliged to give my word of honor will remain a secret.
In between our stops, we walked for quite a while (or rather I was walking and pushing Mini Me in the stroller). During our travels we observed goodly amount of "goggies", babies, "baluns", fountains, and funny sculptures. We also saw a store with Kalla Dresses and another store with funny chandelier, and yet another store with very old furniture. OK, we were walking along Madison and Park avenues; but I love the way all those stuffy designer and other establishments were reduced to such simple descriptions.
Papi was also reminded, rather forcefully, that she is a bit out of shape (G-d willing, gym membership is coming as soon as certain aspects of personal life are resolved next month).
On the way back I decided to dispense with good manners (please forgive me, Mom and Dad), and simply barrel my way though the subway car towards the seat, in order to avoid having to apologize to Mini Me's parents again for cursing in front of their impressionable child. Once we arrived at our destination, three black women (without any signs of wheelchairs, canes, or strollers), pushed ahead of me into the elevator. I was not able to outmaneuver this unholy trinity because I felt bad for another woman with the stroller, who came the elevator ahead of me, and was also pushed aside. Just wondering - what would happen if three white women with no apparent need for the elevator pushed ahead of the black woman with a stroller?
I also needed to haul the stroller with Mini Me in it up the stairs twice. Both times I have encountered a decent amount of indecent jerks. I also encountered two young guys who went out of their way to help me. Both were younger than I, which leaves me hoping that chivalry is not dead. Both also wished me a Happy Mother's Day.
Upon our arrival back at the chateau, Mini Me shared a Big Secret with Mommy: her tooth was shaking. Our big girl!
She also had a candy party with her little brother, which resulted in a great deal of noise and a lovely tussle.
Over all, the aching bones and muscles were totally worth hearing that she also confidentially told Mommy that she went to "a museum with Mickey and candy, and she drunk Coke".
Thursday, May 07, 2009
ANOTHER INTERESTING PARALLEL
For some time now I have been suffering from pretty frequent heartburns. So, at a certain point, I got myself a big bottle of Tums and stuck them in my bag.
This morning, I was performing my usual everyday neurotic routine - I was cleaning and organizing my purse. Today's round also included my cosmetic bag (which I do not do every time). Being true to my neurotic nature, I checked the expiration date on the Tums. Guess what? The date is November of 2012. Now, you can call me fanciful or superstitious, but was it a sign from Heaven?
Ah, what wonderful news! Even if he is not impeached or thrown out because of his true place of birth, it's still a good omen to me. Thank you, Hashem!
This morning, I was performing my usual everyday neurotic routine - I was cleaning and organizing my purse. Today's round also included my cosmetic bag (which I do not do every time). Being true to my neurotic nature, I checked the expiration date on the Tums. Guess what? The date is November of 2012. Now, you can call me fanciful or superstitious, but was it a sign from Heaven?
Ah, what wonderful news! Even if he is not impeached or thrown out because of his true place of birth, it's still a good omen to me. Thank you, Hashem!
Monday, May 04, 2009
SWINE UPDATE
Last Thursday morning, our office building super personally delivered very important memorandums to each and every tenant. The memorandums, of course, were in regards to the swine flu. Aside from the usual nonsense, theybasically copied and pasted the advice from the CDC website, which recommended the following:
Covering nose and mouth with a tissue when coughing and sneezing, and then discarding that tissue; thoroughly washing our hands with soap and water (alcohol also seems to be effective); trying to avoid contact with sick people; and (the gem) if you become sick, CDC recommends you to stay home.
Not to be outdone by these genius actions, that same afternoon our director of HR sent everyone the following e-mail:
"Everyone -- There has been much in the news this week about Swine Flu. Flu viruses spread through person-to-person or other close contact. It can take up to five to seven days to become sick after being exposed. We encourage everyone to take precautions and maintain good health habits.
If you are ill – flu or otherwise – we encourage you to stay home. We appreciate your wanting to come in to get work done. However, when you’re not feeling well, typically you don’t function at your best. Just as important, you increase the risk of spreading germs to others in the office.
Here is a link to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that offers tips on stopping the spread of germs at work: http://www.cdc.gov/germstopper/work.htm "
Now, here is my five cent question to all of this: we only get fifteen work days off for the entire year that includes vacation, sick leave, personal leave, mental health days, etc. So, who is going to compensate us for extra time off: benevolent Obama Administration?
And speaking of that magnificent entity (our government, that is), as this little piece "goes to print", there were no news, breaking or otherwise, about quarantine of anyone recently returned from Mexico, or, at least temporarily, curtailing communications with that extremely advanced country.
Brilliant!! Another job well done!!!
Covering nose and mouth with a tissue when coughing and sneezing, and then discarding that tissue; thoroughly washing our hands with soap and water (alcohol also seems to be effective); trying to avoid contact with sick people; and (the gem) if you become sick, CDC recommends you to stay home.
Not to be outdone by these genius actions, that same afternoon our director of HR sent everyone the following e-mail:
"Everyone -- There has been much in the news this week about Swine Flu. Flu viruses spread through person-to-person or other close contact. It can take up to five to seven days to become sick after being exposed. We encourage everyone to take precautions and maintain good health habits.
If you are ill – flu or otherwise – we encourage you to stay home. We appreciate your wanting to come in to get work done. However, when you’re not feeling well, typically you don’t function at your best. Just as important, you increase the risk of spreading germs to others in the office.
Here is a link to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that offers tips on stopping the spread of germs at work: http://www.cdc.gov/germstopper/work.htm "
Now, here is my five cent question to all of this: we only get fifteen work days off for the entire year that includes vacation, sick leave, personal leave, mental health days, etc. So, who is going to compensate us for extra time off: benevolent Obama Administration?
And speaking of that magnificent entity (our government, that is), as this little piece "goes to print", there were no news, breaking or otherwise, about quarantine of anyone recently returned from Mexico, or, at least temporarily, curtailing communications with that extremely advanced country.
Brilliant!! Another job well done!!!
WEEKEND UPDATE
Here is my latest weekend update:
Friday night was spent in an almost pleasant company in my friend's house (the one where I usually end up "exchanging ideas"). Almost pleasant, because there was another space cadet from a very long line of space cadets present at the table.
The conversation was revolving around mutual friends and acquaintances (which gave me a peaceful munching time, since I could not care less about that), and then, out of the blue, the space cadet made a joke about a teleprompter, which had to be explained to the hostess. The rest, to use a cliché, is history.
I am not going to recall all the nonsense I was subjected to; I also decided not to "engage", since I am apparently just very entertaining, because I am "so passionate" about it. Basically, the idiotic conversation gave me another glimpse into the psychology of total obliviousness that plagues most of the American-born voters, even educated professionals capable of using their grey matter for tasks other than controlling the functions of the body below the neck.
Which brings me to a dismally rainy Sunday, on which I was hoping to take Mini Me to a long-overdue outing. Alas, that did not happen. I also had no motivation to get out of bed (sorry, sis). Basically, I arrived at Casa Del Munchkins in the afternoon. Inspiration struck on a whim, and I offered an outing to DD, which was met by an exuberant enthusiasm on the part of Her Royal Highness; His Royal Highness had to be coaxed a bit.
On the way there, we sang, observed busses and cars, and also commented on trees in strange colors (otherwise known as trees in bloom). Once inside DD, they were actually well-behaved angels about five minutes longer than originally anticipated (and despite being snubbed by another family with two kids). Each of them got their own serving of iced tea and two different kinds of donuts with sprinkles (from which basically only the frosting and sprinkles were eaten).
After a period of decent behavior, the joy of childhood (plus the consumed sugar) won over, and they proceed to show their extreme exuberance, which included laughing, running around, making faces into the windows, taking pictures of strangers - otherwise known as having plain, clean fun. After about ten minutes of this, they had to be evacuated and conveyed back to Casa Del Munchkins. On the way back, despite the rainy weather, they also managed to have fun, which included playing pick-a-boo through the plastic rain cover, kicking the same said cover, and tussling with each other. Oh, they joys of childhood!
Upon arrival, Mini Me organized a game of hide-and-seek. According to her rules, people hiding are told where to hide, which worked fine for Mini Not Me; in the case of Papi, they had to look for her long and hard, and she did not even have to use lots of imagination (just hide behind the same closet couple of times). Ah, the logic of toddlers!
After that, my sibling expressed a longing for a really creamy Mac-and-Cheese. After I volunteered to cook it, she confessed to locating a recipe and even boiling water (before succumbing to Morpheus). So, yours truly, with an enthusiastic assistance of Mini Me and under a watchful eye and periodic yells of neurotic brother-in-law, managed to concoct a very cheesy and somewhat creamy Mac-and-Cheese. Baby sister was in transports of delight, which in turn left yours truly delighted too.
After that is was bath time, when Her Royal Highness gave Her August Permission to be scrubbed by her humble servant at the accompaniment of our popular "scrubby" song.
Basically, another case of slight exhaustion with a warm fuzzy feeling inside; which, of course, brings us to Monday morning and closing the circle of stupidity that began Friday night.
The usual excitement associated with traveling on public transportation during a rainy Monday morning was compounded by strangely glaring looks of one of our recently promoted Senior Associates. On top of that, big boss decided to sort the mail during my unforgivable absence for a lunch break, which resulted in, among other things, longer process of sorting the invoices and his written instructions to yours truly on the fact that a particular piece of mail did not belong to our office (after he opened it).
Life!
Friday night was spent in an almost pleasant company in my friend's house (the one where I usually end up "exchanging ideas"). Almost pleasant, because there was another space cadet from a very long line of space cadets present at the table.
The conversation was revolving around mutual friends and acquaintances (which gave me a peaceful munching time, since I could not care less about that), and then, out of the blue, the space cadet made a joke about a teleprompter, which had to be explained to the hostess. The rest, to use a cliché, is history.
I am not going to recall all the nonsense I was subjected to; I also decided not to "engage", since I am apparently just very entertaining, because I am "so passionate" about it. Basically, the idiotic conversation gave me another glimpse into the psychology of total obliviousness that plagues most of the American-born voters, even educated professionals capable of using their grey matter for tasks other than controlling the functions of the body below the neck.
Which brings me to a dismally rainy Sunday, on which I was hoping to take Mini Me to a long-overdue outing. Alas, that did not happen. I also had no motivation to get out of bed (sorry, sis). Basically, I arrived at Casa Del Munchkins in the afternoon. Inspiration struck on a whim, and I offered an outing to DD, which was met by an exuberant enthusiasm on the part of Her Royal Highness; His Royal Highness had to be coaxed a bit.
On the way there, we sang, observed busses and cars, and also commented on trees in strange colors (otherwise known as trees in bloom). Once inside DD, they were actually well-behaved angels about five minutes longer than originally anticipated (and despite being snubbed by another family with two kids). Each of them got their own serving of iced tea and two different kinds of donuts with sprinkles (from which basically only the frosting and sprinkles were eaten).
After a period of decent behavior, the joy of childhood (plus the consumed sugar) won over, and they proceed to show their extreme exuberance, which included laughing, running around, making faces into the windows, taking pictures of strangers - otherwise known as having plain, clean fun. After about ten minutes of this, they had to be evacuated and conveyed back to Casa Del Munchkins. On the way back, despite the rainy weather, they also managed to have fun, which included playing pick-a-boo through the plastic rain cover, kicking the same said cover, and tussling with each other. Oh, they joys of childhood!
Upon arrival, Mini Me organized a game of hide-and-seek. According to her rules, people hiding are told where to hide, which worked fine for Mini Not Me; in the case of Papi, they had to look for her long and hard, and she did not even have to use lots of imagination (just hide behind the same closet couple of times). Ah, the logic of toddlers!
After that, my sibling expressed a longing for a really creamy Mac-and-Cheese. After I volunteered to cook it, she confessed to locating a recipe and even boiling water (before succumbing to Morpheus). So, yours truly, with an enthusiastic assistance of Mini Me and under a watchful eye and periodic yells of neurotic brother-in-law, managed to concoct a very cheesy and somewhat creamy Mac-and-Cheese. Baby sister was in transports of delight, which in turn left yours truly delighted too.
After that is was bath time, when Her Royal Highness gave Her August Permission to be scrubbed by her humble servant at the accompaniment of our popular "scrubby" song.
Basically, another case of slight exhaustion with a warm fuzzy feeling inside; which, of course, brings us to Monday morning and closing the circle of stupidity that began Friday night.
The usual excitement associated with traveling on public transportation during a rainy Monday morning was compounded by strangely glaring looks of one of our recently promoted Senior Associates. On top of that, big boss decided to sort the mail during my unforgivable absence for a lunch break, which resulted in, among other things, longer process of sorting the invoices and his written instructions to yours truly on the fact that a particular piece of mail did not belong to our office (after he opened it).
Life!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
WHAT TO DO WITH THE SWINE?
By now it is the official breaking news: swine flu is the official threat from sea to shining sea, and there is the first official confirmed death from it in the United States.
Swine flu is believed to have originated in Mexico. Great! Wonderful! Fantastic! Another present from the general direction of America-hating banana republics; one in the long line that includes bed bugs (which, by the way, together with malaria, are effectively controlled by DDT), pushy America-haters who are busy waving our flag upside-down, drug-resistant TB, shady work ethics, amazing ability to leach off every single social program we have (to the significant determent of American taxpayers), MS 13, total disrespect for our culture, and people devoid of manners on New York subway (just to name a few).
Our government officials, in their infinite, bottomless wisdom, are screening all arriving from Mexico. HOW ABOUT PEOPLE WHO ARRIVE ILLEGALLY? WHO SCREENS THEM?
And for the love of all that is holy could you please, please start deporting the illegals and secure the damn south border!
Swine flu is believed to have originated in Mexico. Great! Wonderful! Fantastic! Another present from the general direction of America-hating banana republics; one in the long line that includes bed bugs (which, by the way, together with malaria, are effectively controlled by DDT), pushy America-haters who are busy waving our flag upside-down, drug-resistant TB, shady work ethics, amazing ability to leach off every single social program we have (to the significant determent of American taxpayers), MS 13, total disrespect for our culture, and people devoid of manners on New York subway (just to name a few).
Our government officials, in their infinite, bottomless wisdom, are screening all arriving from Mexico. HOW ABOUT PEOPLE WHO ARRIVE ILLEGALLY? WHO SCREENS THEM?
And for the love of all that is holy could you please, please start deporting the illegals and secure the damn south border!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
SEVEN MINUTES OF BLISS
As mentioned recently, Fluffies need a bit of re-adjustment to the presence of Papi in their lives. Last night was still marked by that lengthy process, as a result of which they refused the performance of any part of nightly ritual by yours truly, piteously crying for Mommy of loudly demanding her presence. There was even an uttering to the tune of "don't want to show Papi burger we made ‘cause Papi is stupid".
At a certain point in the evening, Mommy went to for a long overdue night out with friends, and it was Papi and Abba against 2 American Gnomes. My brother-in-law belongs to the old school of Jewish parents so aptly described by the similarly old joke about Italian mother, Jewish mother, and a bowl of soup. For those unfamiliar with this gem, he was basically feeding them second dinner. After this ceremony was concluded, I politely inquired if His Royal Highness, Mini Not Me, would condescend to accompany his humble servant to The Sleeping Chamber. "No, Mommy!" - at which juncture he was scooped up by his father and removed to The Sleeping Chamber without Royal Permission.
Mini Me, due to her late nap, was left in my custody. So, I politely inquired if Her Royal Highness would like to listen to something read to her. She graciously agreed. Her brother, upon hearing my suggestion, all of the sudden also expressed the desire of my humble company and my reading. Alas, he was carried upstairs. So, it was just Golden Delicious and her Papi.
She chose her books. We had another riveting discussion about the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and "the bad people" who effected that destruction. After the requisite number of books was read and discussed, I reminded her of her promise to go upstairs to her Sleeping Quarters. She duly kept her word. But on her way she kept up very intelligent discussion, even showing me a hole in the wall left by the "geniuses" who delivered her "Big Kid Bed". She also kept wishing good night and blowing kisses.
Those seven minutes spent in reading, discussing, and receiving "Big Kisses" was sheer heavenly pleasure. There are simply no other words to describe it. Exhaustion, frustration, hunger pains - all disappeared in a puff of smoke. The innocent and, believe it or not, unconditional love of a little child in return for your attention, however minimal, is truly more precious than rubies.
At a certain point in the evening, Mommy went to for a long overdue night out with friends, and it was Papi and Abba against 2 American Gnomes. My brother-in-law belongs to the old school of Jewish parents so aptly described by the similarly old joke about Italian mother, Jewish mother, and a bowl of soup. For those unfamiliar with this gem, he was basically feeding them second dinner. After this ceremony was concluded, I politely inquired if His Royal Highness, Mini Not Me, would condescend to accompany his humble servant to The Sleeping Chamber. "No, Mommy!" - at which juncture he was scooped up by his father and removed to The Sleeping Chamber without Royal Permission.
Mini Me, due to her late nap, was left in my custody. So, I politely inquired if Her Royal Highness would like to listen to something read to her. She graciously agreed. Her brother, upon hearing my suggestion, all of the sudden also expressed the desire of my humble company and my reading. Alas, he was carried upstairs. So, it was just Golden Delicious and her Papi.
She chose her books. We had another riveting discussion about the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and "the bad people" who effected that destruction. After the requisite number of books was read and discussed, I reminded her of her promise to go upstairs to her Sleeping Quarters. She duly kept her word. But on her way she kept up very intelligent discussion, even showing me a hole in the wall left by the "geniuses" who delivered her "Big Kid Bed". She also kept wishing good night and blowing kisses.
Those seven minutes spent in reading, discussing, and receiving "Big Kisses" was sheer heavenly pleasure. There are simply no other words to describe it. Exhaustion, frustration, hunger pains - all disappeared in a puff of smoke. The innocent and, believe it or not, unconditional love of a little child in return for your attention, however minimal, is truly more precious than rubies.
Monday, April 27, 2009
HOLIDAY HIGHLIGHTS
Part 2
Anyway, aside from that remarkable conversation with a newly minted barrister, my Passover included the following:
Was good-naturally accused of loving Mini Me sooo much more than Mini Not Me; accusation based on the amount of corresponding pictures I have posted in FaceBook. In defense, had to inform my friend that I love them both to pieces; the disparity in the quantity of pictures comes from the simple fact of Mini Me enjoying Sunday outings with her Papi, as opposed to her brother, who would have social services on my head way before we would reach Manhattan with his pitiful demands of "Mommy." My brother had to add his two cents to the story by pointing out that it would probably be FBI, and not social services, since Mini Not Me is, well, mini not me, so I would probably be accused of kidnapping, and not just child abuse. Just imagine the announcements on the Subway!
It also became apparent that I am not alone in my desire to deal a crushing, but well deserved blow to our thoroughly corrupt school system by starting to home school our kids. One of my friends even had a very practical plan of how to do it (unfortunately, it usually stops at our necessity to work for a living).
At both Sedarim, I was treated to different, but equally gory and imaginative descriptions of what was going on in the Temple when people were bringing their Passover sacrifices en mass. What is it with men and blood and gore?
Contained myself in the face of extreme provocation offered by one of my very good friends, who, due to a probable early mid-life crisis, became a fervent Obama supported and honorary black dude.
Was further entertained in a different household by a tale offered by one of their daughters. She (the daughter) is working in some kind of administrative capacity in a nursing home. Apparently, she had an immigrant co-worker, who, being a very good seamstress, was offered a much better paying position in one of the couture houses. However, the poor woman would rather go back to being an underpaid administrative worker, since dealing with mercurial moods of the people who are able to afford that couture is very wearing on the nerves. One example given was some kind of famous lady named Jennifer Lopez (you got to love the immigrants ignorant of our idiotic fascination with celebrities) who insisted on having a gown cut (despite the gently offered advise), and then wanted to lengthen it again.
Got into a discussion with a young father, who thought that it's a hoot to suggest that it would be better for his daughter to have a permanent diaper rush, because, according to his calculations, Desitin is cheaper than Huggies. Not the first time did I observe that fatherhood does not necessarily mature the male of the species.
Tried to explain to a nice Ashkenazi girl my reasoning for my family not belonging to either Ashkenazim or Sephardim (which, by the way, requires a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish history). "So, how would you classify yourself?" was her slightly annoyed question (I guess my accent was grading on her nerves). "Well, we just call ourselves Jews." "What?" Sheesh! You know those strange people who annoy everyone? Yes, those!
Brought a bottle of wine to my other friend, which resulted in his corkscrew breaking. In situation like this I would just make a joke and put the bottle away till I can lay my hands on another corkscrew. Well, I am a girl, so that do I know. To him it became a test of manhood, and he spent more than an hour (although he insisted on it being only twenty six minutes) trying to open a blessed bottle while using a variety of very inventive techniques. Eventually, the bottle surrendered! At least everyone liked the wine:)
I was also accused by him in liking Earl Grey tea only because I am a Trekki.
Anyway, aside from that remarkable conversation with a newly minted barrister, my Passover included the following:
Was good-naturally accused of loving Mini Me sooo much more than Mini Not Me; accusation based on the amount of corresponding pictures I have posted in FaceBook. In defense, had to inform my friend that I love them both to pieces; the disparity in the quantity of pictures comes from the simple fact of Mini Me enjoying Sunday outings with her Papi, as opposed to her brother, who would have social services on my head way before we would reach Manhattan with his pitiful demands of "Mommy." My brother had to add his two cents to the story by pointing out that it would probably be FBI, and not social services, since Mini Not Me is, well, mini not me, so I would probably be accused of kidnapping, and not just child abuse. Just imagine the announcements on the Subway!
It also became apparent that I am not alone in my desire to deal a crushing, but well deserved blow to our thoroughly corrupt school system by starting to home school our kids. One of my friends even had a very practical plan of how to do it (unfortunately, it usually stops at our necessity to work for a living).
At both Sedarim, I was treated to different, but equally gory and imaginative descriptions of what was going on in the Temple when people were bringing their Passover sacrifices en mass. What is it with men and blood and gore?
Contained myself in the face of extreme provocation offered by one of my very good friends, who, due to a probable early mid-life crisis, became a fervent Obama supported and honorary black dude.
Was further entertained in a different household by a tale offered by one of their daughters. She (the daughter) is working in some kind of administrative capacity in a nursing home. Apparently, she had an immigrant co-worker, who, being a very good seamstress, was offered a much better paying position in one of the couture houses. However, the poor woman would rather go back to being an underpaid administrative worker, since dealing with mercurial moods of the people who are able to afford that couture is very wearing on the nerves. One example given was some kind of famous lady named Jennifer Lopez (you got to love the immigrants ignorant of our idiotic fascination with celebrities) who insisted on having a gown cut (despite the gently offered advise), and then wanted to lengthen it again.
Got into a discussion with a young father, who thought that it's a hoot to suggest that it would be better for his daughter to have a permanent diaper rush, because, according to his calculations, Desitin is cheaper than Huggies. Not the first time did I observe that fatherhood does not necessarily mature the male of the species.
Tried to explain to a nice Ashkenazi girl my reasoning for my family not belonging to either Ashkenazim or Sephardim (which, by the way, requires a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish history). "So, how would you classify yourself?" was her slightly annoyed question (I guess my accent was grading on her nerves). "Well, we just call ourselves Jews." "What?" Sheesh! You know those strange people who annoy everyone? Yes, those!
Brought a bottle of wine to my other friend, which resulted in his corkscrew breaking. In situation like this I would just make a joke and put the bottle away till I can lay my hands on another corkscrew. Well, I am a girl, so that do I know. To him it became a test of manhood, and he spent more than an hour (although he insisted on it being only twenty six minutes) trying to open a blessed bottle while using a variety of very inventive techniques. Eventually, the bottle surrendered! At least everyone liked the wine:)
I was also accused by him in liking Earl Grey tea only because I am a Trekki.
WEEKEND UPDATE
Here is a quick weekend update.
This past week yours truly, just like the rest of the population of our fair city, was hit with the mercurial moods of the not so fair weather. By the time Sunday arrived, I thought that I was (unlike the other years) mentally prepared for the heat wave. Ha, ha, hearty har har!
Still, I was determined not to miss tulips this year; and, again judging by the mood swings of our weather, it looked like the poor tulips and narcissuses, who were fighting for about a month for the right to the full bloom, and deterred by at least three torrential rain storms and just as many temperature drops, would finally burst into full bloom this weekend, and immediately weather away due to extreme heat. So, excursion to Botanical Gardens became a matter of utmost import for this weekend.
With that thought in mind, I woke up at the un-G-dly hour of 7:30 am, and by about nine o’clock was in full battle readiness (which duly surprised my poor sister, who is used to my extreme dawdling and protracted breakfasts on Sunday mornings). Unfortunately, during their "vakashin", munchkins became even more Mommy-clingy, and adamantly refused to be dressed by yours truly; this fact resulting in our parking spot not in the immediate vicinity of the Garden's entrance. Due to not so comfortable footwear and already not too comfortable temperatures, I fell slightly behind during our trek from the car to the entrance. All of the sudden both of them almost simultaneously expressed concern of "where Papi" and "I can't see Papi". Go figure!
While in the garden, we:
Explored the "children's learning garden": same flowers, but on the smaller scale, completed with a cute tiny maze, even cuter assorted benches, and tiny telescope, through which little kids could observe the neighboring vegetable patches.
Enjoyed the profuse amount of tulips in all different colors (and, as predicted, in very ripe stages of full bloom).
Found a whole bunch of Dorothy's (for those of you living a cave, that's Elmo's goldfish, and we found a whole pond of them!
Took an obscene amount of pictures (thank G-d for digital cameras). Unfortunately, Mini Me already entered a stage where taking a good shot of her in any situation requires major maneuvers on par of Wellington's before Vittoria. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is still happy to pose, wave at Mommy, and say "cheese". The best shot of him was the one where he was standing on a gorgeous lawn, holding a sign that said "Keep Off".
Again, due to our cantankerous costumers, we did not pack snacks (thank G-d we did pack water). So, Mini Me and Mini Not Me had to share an apple; hurray for the ingenuity of people from poor countries (because an American born mother would not be able to figure that one out).
Poor Mini Me for whatever reason developed an irrational fear of all insects, which unfortunately prevented her from enjoying the occasional butterflies.
Mini Not Me and his aunt got into another situation which would have resulted in an interesting exchange, if not for Mini Not Me's presence. We decided to cool off a bit in a gift shop. My neffie pooh was a total angel; he was just holding my hand, walking around, and quietly exploring. His extreme cuteness attracted one of the sales girls, and she decided to socialize a bit. Mini Not Me, being wary of strangers, immediately hugged my knees (in the absence of Mommy's) and hid his face in my skirt. I was able to coax him into eventual high and low fives, a little smile, and even a kiss. The girl was totally charmed and, probably due to my "sexy" accent, inquired as to where my nephew was hailing from. To which I politely replied that he was right from here; which is unvarnished truth, since he made his appearance into the world right at one of the Brooklyn's hospitals. After a bit more of polite small talk, Fluffy Head told me that he wanted to go outside. As we were making our slow trek down the stairs, I distinctly heard my recent words repeated with derision. I turned my head, and, sure enough, there was a young black couple discussing my recent (and in their eyes false) statement about Mini Not Me being from Brooklyn. Again, thank G-d for my little munchkin, otherwise, in my present mood, I would have replied with couple of well worded (printable) arguments which may have resulted in eventual personal acquaintance with that well-known defender of civil rights by the name of Al Sharpton.
We also got to The Cherry Esplanade, where Fluffies were able to run around in the grass.
Over all, it was a wonderful, if exhausting, outing (but then, all the outings with Cookies are wonderful and exhausting).
On the way home, my sis blessed her procrastinating tendencies, as a result of which she ended up with a box of Apple Jacks in her car, which by that time was very timely.
Mini Not Me fell asleep; Mini Me refused my assistance in getting out of the car. I was politely asked to "go away" and "go home". So, after unloading the stroller, I picked my bag and headed to the door, at which point I was stopped by "where are you going, Papi?" "Well, you told me to go home, so I am going." "Uhh, go to this home. Stay here, Papi!"
I love you very much, my fluffy cookie heads!
This past week yours truly, just like the rest of the population of our fair city, was hit with the mercurial moods of the not so fair weather. By the time Sunday arrived, I thought that I was (unlike the other years) mentally prepared for the heat wave. Ha, ha, hearty har har!
Still, I was determined not to miss tulips this year; and, again judging by the mood swings of our weather, it looked like the poor tulips and narcissuses, who were fighting for about a month for the right to the full bloom, and deterred by at least three torrential rain storms and just as many temperature drops, would finally burst into full bloom this weekend, and immediately weather away due to extreme heat. So, excursion to Botanical Gardens became a matter of utmost import for this weekend.
With that thought in mind, I woke up at the un-G-dly hour of 7:30 am, and by about nine o’clock was in full battle readiness (which duly surprised my poor sister, who is used to my extreme dawdling and protracted breakfasts on Sunday mornings). Unfortunately, during their "vakashin", munchkins became even more Mommy-clingy, and adamantly refused to be dressed by yours truly; this fact resulting in our parking spot not in the immediate vicinity of the Garden's entrance. Due to not so comfortable footwear and already not too comfortable temperatures, I fell slightly behind during our trek from the car to the entrance. All of the sudden both of them almost simultaneously expressed concern of "where Papi" and "I can't see Papi". Go figure!
While in the garden, we:
Explored the "children's learning garden": same flowers, but on the smaller scale, completed with a cute tiny maze, even cuter assorted benches, and tiny telescope, through which little kids could observe the neighboring vegetable patches.
Enjoyed the profuse amount of tulips in all different colors (and, as predicted, in very ripe stages of full bloom).
Found a whole bunch of Dorothy's (for those of you living a cave, that's Elmo's goldfish, and we found a whole pond of them!
Took an obscene amount of pictures (thank G-d for digital cameras). Unfortunately, Mini Me already entered a stage where taking a good shot of her in any situation requires major maneuvers on par of Wellington's before Vittoria. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is still happy to pose, wave at Mommy, and say "cheese". The best shot of him was the one where he was standing on a gorgeous lawn, holding a sign that said "Keep Off".
Again, due to our cantankerous costumers, we did not pack snacks (thank G-d we did pack water). So, Mini Me and Mini Not Me had to share an apple; hurray for the ingenuity of people from poor countries (because an American born mother would not be able to figure that one out).
Poor Mini Me for whatever reason developed an irrational fear of all insects, which unfortunately prevented her from enjoying the occasional butterflies.
Mini Not Me and his aunt got into another situation which would have resulted in an interesting exchange, if not for Mini Not Me's presence. We decided to cool off a bit in a gift shop. My neffie pooh was a total angel; he was just holding my hand, walking around, and quietly exploring. His extreme cuteness attracted one of the sales girls, and she decided to socialize a bit. Mini Not Me, being wary of strangers, immediately hugged my knees (in the absence of Mommy's) and hid his face in my skirt. I was able to coax him into eventual high and low fives, a little smile, and even a kiss. The girl was totally charmed and, probably due to my "sexy" accent, inquired as to where my nephew was hailing from. To which I politely replied that he was right from here; which is unvarnished truth, since he made his appearance into the world right at one of the Brooklyn's hospitals. After a bit more of polite small talk, Fluffy Head told me that he wanted to go outside. As we were making our slow trek down the stairs, I distinctly heard my recent words repeated with derision. I turned my head, and, sure enough, there was a young black couple discussing my recent (and in their eyes false) statement about Mini Not Me being from Brooklyn. Again, thank G-d for my little munchkin, otherwise, in my present mood, I would have replied with couple of well worded (printable) arguments which may have resulted in eventual personal acquaintance with that well-known defender of civil rights by the name of Al Sharpton.
We also got to The Cherry Esplanade, where Fluffies were able to run around in the grass.
Over all, it was a wonderful, if exhausting, outing (but then, all the outings with Cookies are wonderful and exhausting).
On the way home, my sis blessed her procrastinating tendencies, as a result of which she ended up with a box of Apple Jacks in her car, which by that time was very timely.
Mini Not Me fell asleep; Mini Me refused my assistance in getting out of the car. I was politely asked to "go away" and "go home". So, after unloading the stroller, I picked my bag and headed to the door, at which point I was stopped by "where are you going, Papi?" "Well, you told me to go home, so I am going." "Uhh, go to this home. Stay here, Papi!"
I love you very much, my fluffy cookie heads!
Friday, April 24, 2009
HAPPY EARTH DAY!
As always, a little belated, but also as always very sincere Happy Earth Day!
Congratulations, green people, tree huggers, environmentalists, and other sundry worshippers of Gaia! Another year of job well done!
There is only one little, almost miniscule little thingy that you forgot to accomplish amidst your tireless and devoted efforts towards giving nightmares to little children, expanding the number of malaria sufferers, robbing US taxpayers, preparing fresh lists of climate criminals, zipping back and forth on private jets for all your very important conferences, destroying lives and careers of scientists who oppose your noble efforts, plus making baby steps towards the destruction of Western economy, world hunger and depopulation of Earth. You forgot to declare yourselves as official religion de jour. But, hey, there is still time to accomplish this, plus complete all of the above. After all, you are so good at it!
So, salute yourselves with something produced with a minimal carbon footprint on another year of worthy endeavors!
Congratulations, green people, tree huggers, environmentalists, and other sundry worshippers of Gaia! Another year of job well done!
There is only one little, almost miniscule little thingy that you forgot to accomplish amidst your tireless and devoted efforts towards giving nightmares to little children, expanding the number of malaria sufferers, robbing US taxpayers, preparing fresh lists of climate criminals, zipping back and forth on private jets for all your very important conferences, destroying lives and careers of scientists who oppose your noble efforts, plus making baby steps towards the destruction of Western economy, world hunger and depopulation of Earth. You forgot to declare yourselves as official religion de jour. But, hey, there is still time to accomplish this, plus complete all of the above. After all, you are so good at it!
So, salute yourselves with something produced with a minimal carbon footprint on another year of worthy endeavors!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
JEWISH STUBBORNESS
Mine Me and Mini Not Me were very much looking forward to their "vacashun", and by all accounts enjoyed themselves. Unfortunately, they also came home sick.
Last night I finally got a chance to see them and am very happy to report that I was greeted with exuberance from across the street and hugs and kisses upon more solid contact.
Being that they were still on Arizona time, we undertook a little evening constitutional. Poor Mini Me was pretty much under the weather and could only be coaxed to eat a piece of toast immediately before our departure. Lo and behold, about twenty minutes into our promenade she all of the sudden demanded to be taken to Dunkin' Donuts. I followed my gut feeling, which told me it was not a good idea to take her there at this point in the game. Mommy was also consulted for final decision (and also for the truthfulness of my subsequent statements).
Anyway, Golden Delicious was informed that it was too late to go to DD since they were closed. "No, they are not!" "But I just spoke with Mommy, and she told me they are closed". "No, they are open!" This went on for about a minute. Finally I foolishly impersonated my own parents and asked her if a little birdie told her that DD is still open. "Yes" was an immediate and direct response. "Really? What was birdie’s name?" A very short silence with eyes looking straight at me was followed by a very resolute answer "Pigeon!"
Basically, the remaining forty or so minutes of our constitutional were periodically interspersed with her assurances that even though neighborhood pizza that we just passed was closed, DD is open, and my responses that Pigeon was wrong and Mommy told me that it was closed. When I finally surrendered them to my tired looking sibling, this was my opening gambit: "Mommy, could you imagine this? A birdie named Pigeon misinformed us and told us that Dunkin' Donuts were still open!"
Last night I finally got a chance to see them and am very happy to report that I was greeted with exuberance from across the street and hugs and kisses upon more solid contact.
Being that they were still on Arizona time, we undertook a little evening constitutional. Poor Mini Me was pretty much under the weather and could only be coaxed to eat a piece of toast immediately before our departure. Lo and behold, about twenty minutes into our promenade she all of the sudden demanded to be taken to Dunkin' Donuts. I followed my gut feeling, which told me it was not a good idea to take her there at this point in the game. Mommy was also consulted for final decision (and also for the truthfulness of my subsequent statements).
Anyway, Golden Delicious was informed that it was too late to go to DD since they were closed. "No, they are not!" "But I just spoke with Mommy, and she told me they are closed". "No, they are open!" This went on for about a minute. Finally I foolishly impersonated my own parents and asked her if a little birdie told her that DD is still open. "Yes" was an immediate and direct response. "Really? What was birdie’s name?" A very short silence with eyes looking straight at me was followed by a very resolute answer "Pigeon!"
Basically, the remaining forty or so minutes of our constitutional were periodically interspersed with her assurances that even though neighborhood pizza that we just passed was closed, DD is open, and my responses that Pigeon was wrong and Mommy told me that it was closed. When I finally surrendered them to my tired looking sibling, this was my opening gambit: "Mommy, could you imagine this? A birdie named Pigeon misinformed us and told us that Dunkin' Donuts were still open!"
HOLOCAUST REMEMBRANCE DAY
In memory of six million of our brothers and sisters, may G-d avenge their blood!
May our Heavenly Father grant a measure of peace to all who survived that horror and lived to bear witness.
Master of the Universe, please do not forsake us and turn away from us in anger! Please protect us from our many enemies and grant us the wisdom of understanding what "never again" really means!
May our unconditional love for each other shield us from our haters and bring us the ultimate redemption.
May our Heavenly Father grant a measure of peace to all who survived that horror and lived to bear witness.
Master of the Universe, please do not forsake us and turn away from us in anger! Please protect us from our many enemies and grant us the wisdom of understanding what "never again" really means!
May our unconditional love for each other shield us from our haters and bring us the ultimate redemption.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
HOLIDAY HIGHLIGHTS
Part 1
This past Holiday, just like any other, was a chance to visit as many friends as my feet would allow. In the process, I have accumulated some noteworthy highlights. So, without further ado, here is part one.
There are two "American" families that I usually love to visit. The reasons for this love are manifold, but mainly it is because these people are so "un-Flatbushly" friendly, accepting, and non-judgmental. Also due to their friendliness, there is always a chance that I would see somebody who would grade on my nerves (but I usually try to accept the goodness with a bit of badness attached to it). Unfortunately, during the visits to one of these houses there is usually a fifty percent chance that one of the guests would irritate my nerves to the extent that those same nerves would not be able to keep my yup closed; and the heated debate usually ensues (although my kindhearted friend usually calls it "difference of opinions"). This Passover, unfortunately, was no exception.
One of her married sons, in the best traditions of young marrieds studying in the Holy Land, was visiting for the holidays. And he was not visiting alone. A friend of his youth, a freshly minted attorney at law, also came for a celebratory meal. The boisterous conversation was progressing just swimmingly till something I said produced a half-joking warning not to tangle with yours truly, because, apparently, once I am a member of the NRA, I will shoot anyone and everyone who disagrees with me.
Upon hearing this, young lawyer visibly perked up and asked me if indeed I was a member, and if yes, why. Foolishly, I actually explained. Gosh, when will I ever learn? To summarize our lively and pointless discussion, here are the pertinent points:
He is a Republican (G-d help us).
He hates to admit it, but Obama is doing a great job so far (please see above).
I did not read the text of the Second Amendment; otherwise I would know that there is no such thing as constitutionally guaranteed right to bear arms (his conviction on both points was a joy to behold).
Only because NRA is the most powerful lobby, did we ever get it into our heads that governmental gun control is unconstitutional (later grudgingly agreed with yours truly that enviros are the most powerful lobby, not NRA).
Government has full constitutional right to interfere in the economy (what in blazes did he study again?).
He did not vote, since in New York it does not make a difference anyway (please see numerous previous entries).
Tobacco tax is perfectly fine (even if the majority of smokers are psychiatric patients); because they are harming themselves, and we just tax them in order to pay for their medical expenses (please see number five and number one).
Constitution is “a living, breathing document", and Supreme Court has full right to mangle it any way they want (please see number five).
There were many more interesting points of contention. What really made me laugh was his sage agreement with me when I pointed out that Obama never proved his eligibility for the office as a person born as an American, which is a constitutional requirement.
Among many things, that discussion made me wonder again as to the precise definitions of constitutional law and constitutional lawyer. Aren't all our laws supposed to be constitutional, seeing as we are, well, Constitutional Republic? And aren't all lawyers supposed to be constitutional, meaning know the constitution and strictly adhere to it? Also, using another old cliché, if this dude thinks he hates liberals (while he already bought about half of their bilge), why do I need enemies with friends like this?
Please see number one.
This past Holiday, just like any other, was a chance to visit as many friends as my feet would allow. In the process, I have accumulated some noteworthy highlights. So, without further ado, here is part one.
There are two "American" families that I usually love to visit. The reasons for this love are manifold, but mainly it is because these people are so "un-Flatbushly" friendly, accepting, and non-judgmental. Also due to their friendliness, there is always a chance that I would see somebody who would grade on my nerves (but I usually try to accept the goodness with a bit of badness attached to it). Unfortunately, during the visits to one of these houses there is usually a fifty percent chance that one of the guests would irritate my nerves to the extent that those same nerves would not be able to keep my yup closed; and the heated debate usually ensues (although my kindhearted friend usually calls it "difference of opinions"). This Passover, unfortunately, was no exception.
One of her married sons, in the best traditions of young marrieds studying in the Holy Land, was visiting for the holidays. And he was not visiting alone. A friend of his youth, a freshly minted attorney at law, also came for a celebratory meal. The boisterous conversation was progressing just swimmingly till something I said produced a half-joking warning not to tangle with yours truly, because, apparently, once I am a member of the NRA, I will shoot anyone and everyone who disagrees with me.
Upon hearing this, young lawyer visibly perked up and asked me if indeed I was a member, and if yes, why. Foolishly, I actually explained. Gosh, when will I ever learn? To summarize our lively and pointless discussion, here are the pertinent points:
He is a Republican (G-d help us).
He hates to admit it, but Obama is doing a great job so far (please see above).
I did not read the text of the Second Amendment; otherwise I would know that there is no such thing as constitutionally guaranteed right to bear arms (his conviction on both points was a joy to behold).
Only because NRA is the most powerful lobby, did we ever get it into our heads that governmental gun control is unconstitutional (later grudgingly agreed with yours truly that enviros are the most powerful lobby, not NRA).
Government has full constitutional right to interfere in the economy (what in blazes did he study again?).
He did not vote, since in New York it does not make a difference anyway (please see numerous previous entries).
Tobacco tax is perfectly fine (even if the majority of smokers are psychiatric patients); because they are harming themselves, and we just tax them in order to pay for their medical expenses (please see number five and number one).
Constitution is “a living, breathing document", and Supreme Court has full right to mangle it any way they want (please see number five).
There were many more interesting points of contention. What really made me laugh was his sage agreement with me when I pointed out that Obama never proved his eligibility for the office as a person born as an American, which is a constitutional requirement.
Among many things, that discussion made me wonder again as to the precise definitions of constitutional law and constitutional lawyer. Aren't all our laws supposed to be constitutional, seeing as we are, well, Constitutional Republic? And aren't all lawyers supposed to be constitutional, meaning know the constitution and strictly adhere to it? Also, using another old cliché, if this dude thinks he hates liberals (while he already bought about half of their bilge), why do I need enemies with friends like this?
Please see number one.
Monday, April 20, 2009
ANOTHER SINCERE THANK YOU
Dear Janet Napolitano and (by association) Barak Hussein Obama,
Thank you to both of you from the bottom of my heart!
According to the latest Homeland Security Report, I am now officially a "right-wing extremist" because I am opposed to any and all government interference when it comes to the individual gun ownership. I also made the grade by being opposed to what you euphemistically call "immigration" and I call illegal invasion. According to that brilliant summation of yours, there are apparently "right-wing extremists" who "stockpiled" guns and ammo with express purposes of shooting "immigrants" crossing borders from Mexico. I am a little hazy on that one: is it not the job of the Border Patrol to shoot those "immigrants from Mexico" due to their blatant violation of our borders? Or, after Ramos and Compean, that job is now relegated to the "fringe elements" of our society?
Last, but not least, even though neither I personally, nor anyone close to me belonged to the Military at any given time; I deeply appreciate the cheap potshot your Report took at the veterans.
Another job well done!
Thank you to both of you from the bottom of my heart!
According to the latest Homeland Security Report, I am now officially a "right-wing extremist" because I am opposed to any and all government interference when it comes to the individual gun ownership. I also made the grade by being opposed to what you euphemistically call "immigration" and I call illegal invasion. According to that brilliant summation of yours, there are apparently "right-wing extremists" who "stockpiled" guns and ammo with express purposes of shooting "immigrants" crossing borders from Mexico. I am a little hazy on that one: is it not the job of the Border Patrol to shoot those "immigrants from Mexico" due to their blatant violation of our borders? Or, after Ramos and Compean, that job is now relegated to the "fringe elements" of our society?
Last, but not least, even though neither I personally, nor anyone close to me belonged to the Military at any given time; I deeply appreciate the cheap potshot your Report took at the veterans.
Another job well done!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
HAPPY PASSOVER
To all my brothers and sisters (regardless of their religious affiliation or the lack of thereof), I wish Chag Kosher V'Sameach!
Here is to another wonderful holiday and all the craziness associated with it! To the poor bread eaten in freedom and to the animals that our masters worshiped and we sacrificed at the G-d's commend! Time to re-experience the miraculous liberation from slavery (mental as well as physical), to remember that we were chosen for a very special mission, and to re-affirm our faith.
Next Year in Jerusalem!
Here is to another wonderful holiday and all the craziness associated with it! To the poor bread eaten in freedom and to the animals that our masters worshiped and we sacrificed at the G-d's commend! Time to re-experience the miraculous liberation from slavery (mental as well as physical), to remember that we were chosen for a very special mission, and to re-affirm our faith.
Next Year in Jerusalem!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
ABBA - Money, Money, Money
When I first heard this song, all it was for me was a very catchy beat with very mysterious words. Ah, the times have changed:)
MORE SHORT TAKES
Thank G-d, I live in this country for a little over twenty years. In this time I have managed to "adapt" to the good life. Sometimes, however, I still find myself in funny situations. One ordinary working day, I was doing "my usual": eating lunch and filing. For the "vegetable component" of my meal, I brought in a can of peas, which I just opened, and then proceeded to consume straight out of the can. Couple of guys stopped by to chat, and both of them were duly horrified by the fact that I was eating cold peas. A moment of mutual amazement: they can't comprehend my consumption of cold canned legumes, and I can't comprehend their astonishment. Ah, chuck it off to my childhood; after all, they will never appreciate the beauty of procuring deficient food items, or the deliciousness of the "Oliv'ye" salad due largely to those cold peas.
As heard on Leno: apparently, there is such a thing as "beady eye vegetarians". Translation: if something has "big, sad, soulful eyes" like a cow, it will not be eaten. If something has tiny beady eyes like salmon, it will be. Leno jokingly added that that sounds very LA: if you do not look just right, you would be eaten!
There are a few people in our office who are a bit on the neurotic bend. But one time somebody went a bit too far. Yours truly had to stay late to put the final touches on the payment requisition to the much respected New York City Department of Design and Construction, which, aside from preparing the said requisition (which is no mean feat), also requires submitting it in four copies. So, I went to the lower level to run those copies, and upon my return discovered that somebody took their evening routine a bit too seriously: they shot the lights, set the alarm, and locked all doors. And here was I, standing on the over side of the glass door, hugging the effing triplicate copies of the payment requisition, and longingly looking on my coat, which was hanging on the other side of the door (and which apparently the neurotic co-worker, busy with regular routine, failed to observe).
One of our junior architects was looking forward to his long weekend for about a month, and he was very vocal about it. On the Friday of his departure he mentioned his early leaving only about six times. Finally, that time arrived; he collected his belongings, and run out the door, barely remembering to say good bye. So, imagine my surprise when he re-appeared about fifteen minutes later. Poor schmuck was so excited; he left all his electronic devices at the office.
The closest book store to our office is Border’s. Unlike earth-sustainers, I do not see any harm in taking a plastic bag when needed, and then saving it for future use (and unlike them, I do not yell about it). Anyway, I had a good accumulation of Border’s bags in my drawer, and I used one of them to put my leftovers in the fridge. Next day, I went to check the fridge for those leftovers, and saw another Border’s bag in there. Ah, I thought, somebody else is doing the exact same thing. But then something about this other bag drew my attention; imagine my amusement when I realized that the second bag was also mine, and contained something else that I brought to the office and forgot about.
It looks like establishments serving kosher burgers have interesting concepts of what constitutes what. If you ask for well-done, you are going to get it burned. If you ask for medium, you are going to get it well-done. Just don’t request medium-rare, if you are not in the vicinity of a grill when you receive your order, because usually it requires additional cooking.
Recently, I had two separate and unrelated discussions with two Obama supporters. Both of them expressed total disbelief and incredulity upon discovering that it looks like our current so-called President’s IQ is only about 127. Speaking of somebody’s brilliance!
As told by one of my co-workers. He has a friend who is a social worker. At her place of employment, they do not get reimbursement for the cell phone usage; instead, they just get twenty five dollars a month towards whatever cell phone expanses they may incur. So, one day, when she realized that her battery was low, she just connected her phone to one of the office outlets, and continued with her work. Her supervisor, upon observing this, accused her of “double-dipping”, since she already receives her twenty five bucks for this. To which she replied that she would love to disconnect her charger, providing that the supervisor would take care of all the clients who would be unable to reach her in the event of the phone dying. Ah, administratium at work; what a thing of beauty!
Another gem from Leno’s monologue: “Recently, Iranian doctors discovered that drinking hot tea may cause throat cancer. This is the first thing they are not blaming on the Jews.”
As heard on Leno: apparently, there is such a thing as "beady eye vegetarians". Translation: if something has "big, sad, soulful eyes" like a cow, it will not be eaten. If something has tiny beady eyes like salmon, it will be. Leno jokingly added that that sounds very LA: if you do not look just right, you would be eaten!
There are a few people in our office who are a bit on the neurotic bend. But one time somebody went a bit too far. Yours truly had to stay late to put the final touches on the payment requisition to the much respected New York City Department of Design and Construction, which, aside from preparing the said requisition (which is no mean feat), also requires submitting it in four copies. So, I went to the lower level to run those copies, and upon my return discovered that somebody took their evening routine a bit too seriously: they shot the lights, set the alarm, and locked all doors. And here was I, standing on the over side of the glass door, hugging the effing triplicate copies of the payment requisition, and longingly looking on my coat, which was hanging on the other side of the door (and which apparently the neurotic co-worker, busy with regular routine, failed to observe).
One of our junior architects was looking forward to his long weekend for about a month, and he was very vocal about it. On the Friday of his departure he mentioned his early leaving only about six times. Finally, that time arrived; he collected his belongings, and run out the door, barely remembering to say good bye. So, imagine my surprise when he re-appeared about fifteen minutes later. Poor schmuck was so excited; he left all his electronic devices at the office.
The closest book store to our office is Border’s. Unlike earth-sustainers, I do not see any harm in taking a plastic bag when needed, and then saving it for future use (and unlike them, I do not yell about it). Anyway, I had a good accumulation of Border’s bags in my drawer, and I used one of them to put my leftovers in the fridge. Next day, I went to check the fridge for those leftovers, and saw another Border’s bag in there. Ah, I thought, somebody else is doing the exact same thing. But then something about this other bag drew my attention; imagine my amusement when I realized that the second bag was also mine, and contained something else that I brought to the office and forgot about.
It looks like establishments serving kosher burgers have interesting concepts of what constitutes what. If you ask for well-done, you are going to get it burned. If you ask for medium, you are going to get it well-done. Just don’t request medium-rare, if you are not in the vicinity of a grill when you receive your order, because usually it requires additional cooking.
Recently, I had two separate and unrelated discussions with two Obama supporters. Both of them expressed total disbelief and incredulity upon discovering that it looks like our current so-called President’s IQ is only about 127. Speaking of somebody’s brilliance!
As told by one of my co-workers. He has a friend who is a social worker. At her place of employment, they do not get reimbursement for the cell phone usage; instead, they just get twenty five dollars a month towards whatever cell phone expanses they may incur. So, one day, when she realized that her battery was low, she just connected her phone to one of the office outlets, and continued with her work. Her supervisor, upon observing this, accused her of “double-dipping”, since she already receives her twenty five bucks for this. To which she replied that she would love to disconnect her charger, providing that the supervisor would take care of all the clients who would be unable to reach her in the event of the phone dying. Ah, administratium at work; what a thing of beauty!
Another gem from Leno’s monologue: “Recently, Iranian doctors discovered that drinking hot tea may cause throat cancer. This is the first thing they are not blaming on the Jews.”
ON YESTERDAY'S POST
Sorry, everyone
For whatever reason (I do not feel like assigning the blame), this piece works on Youtube, but is disabled on my blog. That was basically the last five minutes from "The Working Girl"; if you already watched it, you should remember it, at least vaguely. If you did not, I strongly recommend it: it is very naive by today's standards, but very uplifting and quintessentially American. Plus, is has the now orphaned New York skyline as a prominent feature. So, hopefully, you will enjoy it.
For whatever reason (I do not feel like assigning the blame), this piece works on Youtube, but is disabled on my blog. That was basically the last five minutes from "The Working Girl"; if you already watched it, you should remember it, at least vaguely. If you did not, I strongly recommend it: it is very naive by today's standards, but very uplifting and quintessentially American. Plus, is has the now orphaned New York skyline as a prominent feature. So, hopefully, you will enjoy it.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Working Girl - The End
Here is to wishful thinking and hoping; to punishing for stealing ideas and rewarding hard work and dedication; to fighting for your dream and not getting snobby. Here is to free market economy, Reagan revolution, and the triumph of the American Dream! (And, of course, to shoulder pads and big hair:))
Monday, March 30, 2009
OK, WHATEVER YOU SAY
Here is a little chain of events, seemingly unconnected:
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
Friday, March 27, 2009
HAPPY (BELATED) PURIM
Editor’s note: due to the usual circumstances beyond my control, this piece appears today, as opposed to the day after Shushan Purim.
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
Thursday, March 05, 2009
ANOTHER WEEKEND UPDATE
Editor’s note: due to the circumstances beyond my control (situation continuing from last week), this entry goes to print today, as opposed to Monday morning.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
Friday, February 27, 2009
ONE OF THE MANY REASONS TO HATE MONDAYS
Publisher’s notice: Due to the circumstances beyond my control, this entry is appearing today as opposed to Monday, when it was supposed to appear in the first place.
This past Sunday I had the supreme honour of the august presence of Mini Not Me in my humble abode for most of the day.
The highlights of the visit included:
Royal meals: personally prepared by yours truly macaroni and cheese (not from the box), minced fillet of the finest fish, battered and baked (aka fish sticks), aged Kosher cheese, and the best of seasonal fruit (apple), also prepared to perfection by yours truly (washed, peeled, and cut into the bite-size pieces).
His highness was greatly (and repeatedly) amused by the plentiful, diverse, and colorful array of my fridge magnets.
We watched Elmo, Barney, and Ella Enchanted, washing it down with healthy amounts of "kek" and "dink".
Mini Not Me was also fascinated by my "bankey" with pictures strongly resembling (at least in his eyes) Mommy. In reality it was Ariel the Little Mermaid, but in any case he refused to be covered by it for his nap.
Another interesting object of play was found on my desk in the form of one of the Eucerin samples from my dermatologist. It is a little rectangular box containing body wash, lotion, and cream. So, I explained to him the designations of each strange object, and he had fun for the good part of an hour by taking them out of the box one by one, naming them one by one, and then trying to put them back in the box one by one. Which, by the way, proves again that most of the toys adults buy are for adult entertainment mostly; kids, especially little ones, can amuse themselves with just about anything.
Mommy and Efty were inquired about only at about fifteen minute’s intervals. Abba and his "ca" were mentioned at around every hour. Most of the time, I was able to deflect his highnesses attention by something unrelated to Mommy, Efty, Abba, or his car.
I was treated to lots of delicious hugs.
At the early dinner time, happy reunion of Mini Not Me with Mini Me after a very long absence of about seven hours was punctuated with Indian Chief Style yells, running around, horseplay, and many, many happy, innocent and delicious smiles. At the conclusion of the said reunion the fruits of the shopping expedition of Mommy, Efty, and Abba were displayed and discussed as well, especially Efty's New Dresses and New Accessories.
Basically, it was an event-filled Sunday; which brings my story to Monday.
After the usual subway ride in the car filled with different representatives of the "inner city", and the usual jostling in the coffee shop by the members of the stronger sex and their briefcases, I arrived at my place of gainful employment. In the kitchen, the big boss run into me; by his tone of greeting I figured out that something was amiss. Sure enough, half a minute later he informed me that after I was done in the kitchen, he needed to "have a conversation with me". After being informed that I am available at his leisure, he told that he will call.
I went back to my desk, frantically trying to figure out what the heck I have done now to warrant "a conversation"; the said exercise preventing me from fully enjoying my Bridget Jones style breakfast. After about two hours he finally showed up at my desk, and the glimmer of understanding appeared when I saw what he was holding in his hand. It was a copy of my company Amex statement that all of us lucky enough to have a company Amex got the previous Friday. Still, since I was sure that no charges from Abigail’s stake house, e-bay, Border's books, CafePress, WND store, Regnery Publishing, or Lane Bryant were on that statement, I just plastered a polite expression on my face and mentally steered myself.
The rant was long and boring, but the gist of it was that there were charges from a different department (the fact that technically I assist the whole office, and I am not his personal EA somehow escaped him), that we have to cut costs as much as possible, that the times are tough, and what about all the reimbursable expanses from the other cards? Who is notifying the main office? Who is processing what? Blah, blah, blah, grrrr! (The fact that there is a perfectly logical system in place at the moment was also forgotten). Then he demanded to see my receipts, and then he made rounds with all the other card holders, which was pretty amusing because if yours truly is just a humble laborer, all the other holders are senior associates.
Then I got the e-mail from the NYPL that the last available PIG to US Constitution became unavailable. In a fit of generosity they bought two copies that were constantly in demand; then one copy became unavailable ("missing"), and now another, or "the last available copy". Grrr!
Then the big boss started giving me instructions on opening a separate accounts receivable file, employing a different filing system. When he was informed that that was also in place, he got a bit taken aback; the little demonstration and explanation he gave me in my first week here apparently also evaporated from his memory.
Basically, the entire office was very tense for the whole day. Then I went home (again on "multicultural" train), dropped by the bakery for some fresh bread, came home, put on my "shmate" attire, and dedicated the next three hours to the thankless task of cleaning my kitchen. Please do not ask me at what time I had dinner, because my MD is going to have conniptions when she hears about it.
So, on both days I went to sleep exhausted. But on Sunday, my world was lit with the innocent love of two little kids who think that I am "Papi - The Height of Cool". On Monday, the mundane idiocy sapped my strength. And that is one of the many reasons of why I hate Mondays!
This past Sunday I had the supreme honour of the august presence of Mini Not Me in my humble abode for most of the day.
The highlights of the visit included:
Royal meals: personally prepared by yours truly macaroni and cheese (not from the box), minced fillet of the finest fish, battered and baked (aka fish sticks), aged Kosher cheese, and the best of seasonal fruit (apple), also prepared to perfection by yours truly (washed, peeled, and cut into the bite-size pieces).
His highness was greatly (and repeatedly) amused by the plentiful, diverse, and colorful array of my fridge magnets.
We watched Elmo, Barney, and Ella Enchanted, washing it down with healthy amounts of "kek" and "dink".
Mini Not Me was also fascinated by my "bankey" with pictures strongly resembling (at least in his eyes) Mommy. In reality it was Ariel the Little Mermaid, but in any case he refused to be covered by it for his nap.
Another interesting object of play was found on my desk in the form of one of the Eucerin samples from my dermatologist. It is a little rectangular box containing body wash, lotion, and cream. So, I explained to him the designations of each strange object, and he had fun for the good part of an hour by taking them out of the box one by one, naming them one by one, and then trying to put them back in the box one by one. Which, by the way, proves again that most of the toys adults buy are for adult entertainment mostly; kids, especially little ones, can amuse themselves with just about anything.
Mommy and Efty were inquired about only at about fifteen minute’s intervals. Abba and his "ca" were mentioned at around every hour. Most of the time, I was able to deflect his highnesses attention by something unrelated to Mommy, Efty, Abba, or his car.
I was treated to lots of delicious hugs.
At the early dinner time, happy reunion of Mini Not Me with Mini Me after a very long absence of about seven hours was punctuated with Indian Chief Style yells, running around, horseplay, and many, many happy, innocent and delicious smiles. At the conclusion of the said reunion the fruits of the shopping expedition of Mommy, Efty, and Abba were displayed and discussed as well, especially Efty's New Dresses and New Accessories.
Basically, it was an event-filled Sunday; which brings my story to Monday.
After the usual subway ride in the car filled with different representatives of the "inner city", and the usual jostling in the coffee shop by the members of the stronger sex and their briefcases, I arrived at my place of gainful employment. In the kitchen, the big boss run into me; by his tone of greeting I figured out that something was amiss. Sure enough, half a minute later he informed me that after I was done in the kitchen, he needed to "have a conversation with me". After being informed that I am available at his leisure, he told that he will call.
I went back to my desk, frantically trying to figure out what the heck I have done now to warrant "a conversation"; the said exercise preventing me from fully enjoying my Bridget Jones style breakfast. After about two hours he finally showed up at my desk, and the glimmer of understanding appeared when I saw what he was holding in his hand. It was a copy of my company Amex statement that all of us lucky enough to have a company Amex got the previous Friday. Still, since I was sure that no charges from Abigail’s stake house, e-bay, Border's books, CafePress, WND store, Regnery Publishing, or Lane Bryant were on that statement, I just plastered a polite expression on my face and mentally steered myself.
The rant was long and boring, but the gist of it was that there were charges from a different department (the fact that technically I assist the whole office, and I am not his personal EA somehow escaped him), that we have to cut costs as much as possible, that the times are tough, and what about all the reimbursable expanses from the other cards? Who is notifying the main office? Who is processing what? Blah, blah, blah, grrrr! (The fact that there is a perfectly logical system in place at the moment was also forgotten). Then he demanded to see my receipts, and then he made rounds with all the other card holders, which was pretty amusing because if yours truly is just a humble laborer, all the other holders are senior associates.
Then I got the e-mail from the NYPL that the last available PIG to US Constitution became unavailable. In a fit of generosity they bought two copies that were constantly in demand; then one copy became unavailable ("missing"), and now another, or "the last available copy". Grrr!
Then the big boss started giving me instructions on opening a separate accounts receivable file, employing a different filing system. When he was informed that that was also in place, he got a bit taken aback; the little demonstration and explanation he gave me in my first week here apparently also evaporated from his memory.
Basically, the entire office was very tense for the whole day. Then I went home (again on "multicultural" train), dropped by the bakery for some fresh bread, came home, put on my "shmate" attire, and dedicated the next three hours to the thankless task of cleaning my kitchen. Please do not ask me at what time I had dinner, because my MD is going to have conniptions when she hears about it.
So, on both days I went to sleep exhausted. But on Sunday, my world was lit with the innocent love of two little kids who think that I am "Papi - The Height of Cool". On Monday, the mundane idiocy sapped my strength. And that is one of the many reasons of why I hate Mondays!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Swan Lake - Act 2, Pas de Quatre
Here is to my strange childhood! This number is forever more stuck in my brain as a song about bananas and their unavailability in Moscow:)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
FAMILY VIGNETTES
One evening Mini Me granted me the supreme honor of reading her a story before bed (a privilege usually reserved exclusively for Mommy). We were reading her favorite "Olivia", and that evening her comments went along the lines of whatever Olivia did in the book, our American Gnome does with her Mommy. So when we came to the part where Olivia goes to the museum in the rainy weather, Golden Delicious immediately piped up that she is always going to the museum with Mommy during rain. I love conversing with her as a whole, so I asked her if she remembered our lone trip to the Met. "No, I go to the museum all the time, with Mommy". "No, cookie, you went only once, and it was with me". "No, every day, with Mommy." After that we returned to Olivia's adventures. Later on, while I was reporting to my sister on the accomplished mission (sleeping child), I told her about this conversation, jokingly adding that I am a purist, ergo I wanted to clarify the matter. "And my daughter is a loyalist!" - was my sibling's proud response.
Here are two suggestions from my beloved siblings as it pertains to my career goals: the first one was a PhD in Harry Potter Studies; the second one was a PhD in Modern American Romance Novel Studies.
During one memorable Youtube session with Mini Me and Mini Not Me, we were listening to one lively piece accompanied by a collage of different pictures. One of them was a Botticelli. "Un dat" was my nephew's immediate request. Great taste, my little one! Our school!
My sis and I both started at the same college. She had the good sense not to finish there, but that is a different story. Anyway, since the learning institution at that time was relatively small, we ended up with a few of the same professors. One of them (my favorite, despite being a complete crackpot) made a very interesting connection between us. Now, bear in mind that my sis and I look very much alike (Mini Me is a delicious prove of that). So, during one particular discussion, the prof turned towards my sibling and asked her if she had a sister whom he taught before. She replied in the affirmative, to which he added that he was sure about it, because we both have a very finely developed appreciation of sarcasm. I do not know how she feels about that one now, but I still consider it a compliment.
Here are two suggestions from my beloved siblings as it pertains to my career goals: the first one was a PhD in Harry Potter Studies; the second one was a PhD in Modern American Romance Novel Studies.
During one memorable Youtube session with Mini Me and Mini Not Me, we were listening to one lively piece accompanied by a collage of different pictures. One of them was a Botticelli. "Un dat" was my nephew's immediate request. Great taste, my little one! Our school!
My sis and I both started at the same college. She had the good sense not to finish there, but that is a different story. Anyway, since the learning institution at that time was relatively small, we ended up with a few of the same professors. One of them (my favorite, despite being a complete crackpot) made a very interesting connection between us. Now, bear in mind that my sis and I look very much alike (Mini Me is a delicious prove of that). So, during one particular discussion, the prof turned towards my sibling and asked her if she had a sister whom he taught before. She replied in the affirmative, to which he added that he was sure about it, because we both have a very finely developed appreciation of sarcasm. I do not know how she feels about that one now, but I still consider it a compliment.
Monday, February 16, 2009
TWO LITTLE DEMONSTRATIONS
Both of these happened at my place of employment, which, in the best traditions of educated people on both coasts, is almost totally staffed with serious lefties.
One: being a serious Harry Potter devotee, I was impatiently waiting for J.K.'s 800 word composition which she had penned for charity and which was supposed to be from "the prequel she is not working on". Long story short, I missed buying it from the publisher and ended up haunting the e-bay actions. Finally, the coveted transaction was completed, and now I was impatiently waiting for my package to arrive. After a while I was ready to e-mail the seller and politely inquire about the actual shipping date; lo and behold, I get the office mail to sort, and here it is: a hated orange post card with "we attempted to deliver your package". I ran after our rude mailman with the effing card, pointing out that a) the date indicated was a business day, and b) I was right here. No dice; he point blank lied about somebody else sorting the mail that day, and then rudely suggested that I should just go "around the corner" to the post office and claim my package. Since I do not get lunch break during the winter time, for yours truly it meant not only going to deal with another rude and disgusting federal employee, but also staying late after work to make up the time.
Overjoyed about the whole scenario, I called into question the competence, mental capacity, and legitimacy of the above mentioned post people. One of my co-workers happened to pass by my desk at the time and jokingly suggested to me to express my emotions and not battle them up. What he did not know was that my name calling and frustration were not just directed at the federal employees, but at him and his colleagues as well. Because the day it happened was the election day, and I knew that almost all of them made special efforts to vote for the new stinking messiah, who's official campaign promises were to put a whole new army of these incompetent nincompoops, who cannot even read properly and carry a 1.6 pound package to its destination, but somehow would be the only people capable and equipped to fix the economy and healthcare, usher the world peace, and control the climate, just to name a few.
Two: you are all familiar with the old leftie songs about raising taxes "for the rich”, "spreading the wealth around", et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. The words may change, but the tunes are always the same. Anyway, back to the story. One of our offices had been floundering financially for a while, mainly due to the almost total lack of business acumen of the person in charge. At the periodic staff meetings, we were informed for about three times in a row that that office was performing at a loss. Finally, the powers that be announced that almost everyone at that office was let go (aside, of course, from the head who messed it up in the first place). Guess what happened next? One of my leftie, earth-sustaining, taxes-are-patriotic co-workers told me that he was glad it finally happened because (are you ready for this) this office was dragging the whole company down and it affected our bonuses and 401(K) s! Do not get me wrong, I understand the cold, sometimes brutal laws that govern capitalists-based economy. But for this bleeding heart leftie!!! Of course, he had to make a caveat that he sort of feels bad, he wants to be a team player, blah, blah, blah. All the compassionate, feel good rhetoric went down the drain when he felt the direct results of such wealth-spreading; and the fate of around thirty people who are now unemployed did not really bother him that much.
One: being a serious Harry Potter devotee, I was impatiently waiting for J.K.'s 800 word composition which she had penned for charity and which was supposed to be from "the prequel she is not working on". Long story short, I missed buying it from the publisher and ended up haunting the e-bay actions. Finally, the coveted transaction was completed, and now I was impatiently waiting for my package to arrive. After a while I was ready to e-mail the seller and politely inquire about the actual shipping date; lo and behold, I get the office mail to sort, and here it is: a hated orange post card with "we attempted to deliver your package". I ran after our rude mailman with the effing card, pointing out that a) the date indicated was a business day, and b) I was right here. No dice; he point blank lied about somebody else sorting the mail that day, and then rudely suggested that I should just go "around the corner" to the post office and claim my package. Since I do not get lunch break during the winter time, for yours truly it meant not only going to deal with another rude and disgusting federal employee, but also staying late after work to make up the time.
Overjoyed about the whole scenario, I called into question the competence, mental capacity, and legitimacy of the above mentioned post people. One of my co-workers happened to pass by my desk at the time and jokingly suggested to me to express my emotions and not battle them up. What he did not know was that my name calling and frustration were not just directed at the federal employees, but at him and his colleagues as well. Because the day it happened was the election day, and I knew that almost all of them made special efforts to vote for the new stinking messiah, who's official campaign promises were to put a whole new army of these incompetent nincompoops, who cannot even read properly and carry a 1.6 pound package to its destination, but somehow would be the only people capable and equipped to fix the economy and healthcare, usher the world peace, and control the climate, just to name a few.
Two: you are all familiar with the old leftie songs about raising taxes "for the rich”, "spreading the wealth around", et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. The words may change, but the tunes are always the same. Anyway, back to the story. One of our offices had been floundering financially for a while, mainly due to the almost total lack of business acumen of the person in charge. At the periodic staff meetings, we were informed for about three times in a row that that office was performing at a loss. Finally, the powers that be announced that almost everyone at that office was let go (aside, of course, from the head who messed it up in the first place). Guess what happened next? One of my leftie, earth-sustaining, taxes-are-patriotic co-workers told me that he was glad it finally happened because (are you ready for this) this office was dragging the whole company down and it affected our bonuses and 401(K) s! Do not get me wrong, I understand the cold, sometimes brutal laws that govern capitalists-based economy. But for this bleeding heart leftie!!! Of course, he had to make a caveat that he sort of feels bad, he wants to be a team player, blah, blah, blah. All the compassionate, feel good rhetoric went down the drain when he felt the direct results of such wealth-spreading; and the fate of around thirty people who are now unemployed did not really bother him that much.
SOCIAL WHIRLWIND, MIDWOOD STYLE
Social hierarchy, norms, modes of dress, and the general structure overall are much more complex right here, in the midst of "diverse" Jewish community of Brooklyn, than it was amongst the British aristocracy. You just do not perceive it as such till you actually lived in the midst of this very strange tribe for a while; but today's discussion is not about the complexity and my personal opinion about it. This is just to recount a crazy chain of events that happened yesterday.
Partially due to the fact that it just happened to be a Sunday before the national holiday, partially due to the fact that we used to be quite sociable once a while (hence have quite a few friends), and partially due to the gorgeous spring like weather that we had yesterday, our family (almost in total, or just the most important representatives) ended up attending four different social events yesterday. Those were (in chronological order): a circumcision, a second birthday party for a little girl, a third birthday/special first haircut for a little boy, and a long overdue visit to an old friend whom we first met while he was a single student, and who is now blessed with a wife and few kids. Phew, that was exhausting.
Just to summarize a la MasterCard commercial:
Wake up calls to early for Sunday: 1 (your humble servant also had to go to a Medical professional in order to take care of her raging eczema)
Carefully prepared bag of food, snacks, and treats for munchkins: 1 (by Grandma, of course)
Total time spend looking for parking: 40 minutes
Total time spend in a car: 3.5hours
Pizza consumed: about 1 slice total per major player involved
Cake consumed: about 3 slices total per major player involved
Homemade sushi consumed: about 2 rolls per regular and 1/2 roll per vegan consumer
"Packalach": 2
Balloons involved: 3
Adult tempers frayed: 3
Vans borrowed: 1
Overtired toddlers: 2
Happy babies observed: 1
Mischiefs managed: about 50
Few extra pictures and memories of munchkins smiling and playing: priceless
Partially due to the fact that it just happened to be a Sunday before the national holiday, partially due to the fact that we used to be quite sociable once a while (hence have quite a few friends), and partially due to the gorgeous spring like weather that we had yesterday, our family (almost in total, or just the most important representatives) ended up attending four different social events yesterday. Those were (in chronological order): a circumcision, a second birthday party for a little girl, a third birthday/special first haircut for a little boy, and a long overdue visit to an old friend whom we first met while he was a single student, and who is now blessed with a wife and few kids. Phew, that was exhausting.
Just to summarize a la MasterCard commercial:
Wake up calls to early for Sunday: 1 (your humble servant also had to go to a Medical professional in order to take care of her raging eczema)
Carefully prepared bag of food, snacks, and treats for munchkins: 1 (by Grandma, of course)
Total time spend looking for parking: 40 minutes
Total time spend in a car: 3.5hours
Pizza consumed: about 1 slice total per major player involved
Cake consumed: about 3 slices total per major player involved
Homemade sushi consumed: about 2 rolls per regular and 1/2 roll per vegan consumer
"Packalach": 2
Balloons involved: 3
Adult tempers frayed: 3
Vans borrowed: 1
Overtired toddlers: 2
Happy babies observed: 1
Mischiefs managed: about 50
Few extra pictures and memories of munchkins smiling and playing: priceless
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
I had a little chance to complain before about my friend sort of standing me up for the Hashivenu weekend; here is an entry dedicated to the interesting young lady I ended up sharing a room with.
Thankfully, I did not really get a chance to socialize with her till Saturday night, because we both came there for different reasons, with different friends and relatives, and with different plans. Anyway, Saturday night, after enjoying the pool with my sis and the munchkins, I went back to my room and found my roommate watching financial news on MSNBC (which should have given me the first clue). Anyway, we engaged in some small talk, in the course of which she divulged to me that she used to work on Wall Street back in the day, but is now out of this racket, and happier for it. I just kept nodding and uhu-ing politely; and then the Madoff's name was mentioned on TV, and she shook her head and pronounced something to the extent that she cannot believe the gullibility of the people. "If it sounds too good to be true, how can you fall for it?" - was her wise exclamation.
"Why are you so surprised “ - was my answer -” just look at who was elected the President". Oh, Mama, who asked me to open my big yup? "What do you mean?" - was her immediate and aggressive response. I tried to explain my basic objections to the guy, to my detriment. I was treated to a whole lecture. She is a Republican (so what?); she disapproved of the war (what else is new?); Bush was a horrible President (again, what else); it is high time to elect a black President (thanks for repeating the lefty tripe); it is wonderful that so many Jews voted for him (so now HAMAS will withdraw their approval of his candidacy, Sharpton will yell "mea culpa" for the Crown Heights riots and will voluntarily report to the NYS DOC to serve a life sentence for the murder of poor Yankel Rosenbaum, and Jackson will publicly apologize for all his past anti-Semitic rants and completely retire from public life); just look at the wonderful cabinet Obama assembled (to her credit, back in December all we knew about those boys and girls wonders was that they were, to quote Burt, "retreads from Clinton's thrift shop"; now we know what a wonderful collection of honest people they are as well); she was very torn before the elections, and even consulted a Rav, asking him if she would harm our people by voting for Obama, and the Rav did not directly say that she would (to quote "Guys and Dolls", I plead the Fifth Commandment; or, in plain Yiddish, Oy, gevalt). There was more, of course, but my recollections are a bit hazy. Few times I tried, unsuccessfully, to offer to agree to disagree; to no avail; she plowed on.
To conclude: if you vote for a proven demagogue who refuses to even prove his basic eligibility for the office; who's friends, acquaintances, mentors, neighbors, and political allies are all domestic and international terrorists, Marxists, socialists, Mafiosi, crooks, cheats, and liars; who's own lady wife is open America-hater; and who's candidacy was celebrated by every single Jew-hating group here, and was endorsed by HAMAS; and, last but not least, who himself is full of arrogance and hot air that usually comes from the wrong body orifice - to vote this for the President of the United States is a result of hard brain work. But to fall for the clever manipulations of a big time financial schemer - that is, at best, a very naïve decision on your part.
I rest my case (at least for now).
Thankfully, I did not really get a chance to socialize with her till Saturday night, because we both came there for different reasons, with different friends and relatives, and with different plans. Anyway, Saturday night, after enjoying the pool with my sis and the munchkins, I went back to my room and found my roommate watching financial news on MSNBC (which should have given me the first clue). Anyway, we engaged in some small talk, in the course of which she divulged to me that she used to work on Wall Street back in the day, but is now out of this racket, and happier for it. I just kept nodding and uhu-ing politely; and then the Madoff's name was mentioned on TV, and she shook her head and pronounced something to the extent that she cannot believe the gullibility of the people. "If it sounds too good to be true, how can you fall for it?" - was her wise exclamation.
"Why are you so surprised “ - was my answer -” just look at who was elected the President". Oh, Mama, who asked me to open my big yup? "What do you mean?" - was her immediate and aggressive response. I tried to explain my basic objections to the guy, to my detriment. I was treated to a whole lecture. She is a Republican (so what?); she disapproved of the war (what else is new?); Bush was a horrible President (again, what else); it is high time to elect a black President (thanks for repeating the lefty tripe); it is wonderful that so many Jews voted for him (so now HAMAS will withdraw their approval of his candidacy, Sharpton will yell "mea culpa" for the Crown Heights riots and will voluntarily report to the NYS DOC to serve a life sentence for the murder of poor Yankel Rosenbaum, and Jackson will publicly apologize for all his past anti-Semitic rants and completely retire from public life); just look at the wonderful cabinet Obama assembled (to her credit, back in December all we knew about those boys and girls wonders was that they were, to quote Burt, "retreads from Clinton's thrift shop"; now we know what a wonderful collection of honest people they are as well); she was very torn before the elections, and even consulted a Rav, asking him if she would harm our people by voting for Obama, and the Rav did not directly say that she would (to quote "Guys and Dolls", I plead the Fifth Commandment; or, in plain Yiddish, Oy, gevalt). There was more, of course, but my recollections are a bit hazy. Few times I tried, unsuccessfully, to offer to agree to disagree; to no avail; she plowed on.
To conclude: if you vote for a proven demagogue who refuses to even prove his basic eligibility for the office; who's friends, acquaintances, mentors, neighbors, and political allies are all domestic and international terrorists, Marxists, socialists, Mafiosi, crooks, cheats, and liars; who's own lady wife is open America-hater; and who's candidacy was celebrated by every single Jew-hating group here, and was endorsed by HAMAS; and, last but not least, who himself is full of arrogance and hot air that usually comes from the wrong body orifice - to vote this for the President of the United States is a result of hard brain work. But to fall for the clever manipulations of a big time financial schemer - that is, at best, a very naïve decision on your part.
I rest my case (at least for now).
WORK FUNNIES
Part 5: A Case of Disappearing Psychiatrist
To the newcomers to this blog: I work in an architectural firm that basically specializes in two areas: municipal and healthcare projects. The first involves building and renovation of jails (both adult and juvenile), police precincts, schools, homeless shelters, ect.; the second involves the building and renovation of hospitals and laboratories; pretty nifty, actually, till you have to deal with one of my favorite population segment: people described by the oxymoron "public servants". But this story is actually about the other part of the firm.
The "healthcare group" has a few projects with one of the local hospitals; one of them was simply coded "Dr. Q". OK, computer accepts, and I definitely do not care; that is, till somebody actually explained to me what the project implied. Apparently, Dr. Q was some kind of hot shot psychiatrist with celebrity clientele, and the whole project involved converting a place originally designated for seven employees into a place designated for two employees (completed with private shower room), so that those celebrated clients can have privacy.
The project already went into a construction phase, and yesterday the project manager went to the job site, accompanied by a couple of assistants. Upon arrival, however, they were informed by one of the hospital's project managers that an interoffice e-mail was circulated the evening prior, informing the select few amongst the hospital staff that Dr. Q was no longer with the hospital. Our firm, in turn, was advised that the project is officially "on hold", and that was basically all the information we would receive.
My co-workers, being creative people, decided to hold a contest by providing explanations of what actually occurred. The best came from the guy who explained to me the meaning of the project to begin with: Dr. Q was probably the one who supplied ARod (or whoever he is) with steroids!
To the newcomers to this blog: I work in an architectural firm that basically specializes in two areas: municipal and healthcare projects. The first involves building and renovation of jails (both adult and juvenile), police precincts, schools, homeless shelters, ect.; the second involves the building and renovation of hospitals and laboratories; pretty nifty, actually, till you have to deal with one of my favorite population segment: people described by the oxymoron "public servants". But this story is actually about the other part of the firm.
The "healthcare group" has a few projects with one of the local hospitals; one of them was simply coded "Dr. Q". OK, computer accepts, and I definitely do not care; that is, till somebody actually explained to me what the project implied. Apparently, Dr. Q was some kind of hot shot psychiatrist with celebrity clientele, and the whole project involved converting a place originally designated for seven employees into a place designated for two employees (completed with private shower room), so that those celebrated clients can have privacy.
The project already went into a construction phase, and yesterday the project manager went to the job site, accompanied by a couple of assistants. Upon arrival, however, they were informed by one of the hospital's project managers that an interoffice e-mail was circulated the evening prior, informing the select few amongst the hospital staff that Dr. Q was no longer with the hospital. Our firm, in turn, was advised that the project is officially "on hold", and that was basically all the information we would receive.
My co-workers, being creative people, decided to hold a contest by providing explanations of what actually occurred. The best came from the guy who explained to me the meaning of the project to begin with: Dr. Q was probably the one who supplied ARod (or whoever he is) with steroids!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK
Part 4
For some strange reason, I ended up knowing quite a few people in the construction/house renovation business. So, without further ado, here is a charming little story straight from one of my acquaintances.
This past Sunday morning, he was on his way to check on one of the job sites. All of a sudden, one of his workers calls him in a panic: "Inspector is here, and he told us to shut down!" So, the poor guy floors it, arrives at the site in record time, and finds the esteemed employee of the great city of New York issuing the following royal proclamation. Since there is no permit for working on Sunday, he is going to give tickets for every single building (that would have translated into a considerable hunk of lettuce), plus issue a stop order for two weeks (that would have basically left the owner of the project without his next to last under wears).
My acquaintance, being of the somewhat diplomatic bend, at first tried to explain that is was not his project, and he was only a subcontractor - the officer could not care less. Next, the sum of, if I am not mistaken, three hundred dollars was offered, which was met with open incredulity and comparisons to the sum total of tickets. The somewhat lively telephone exchange followed between the contractor and the subcontractor, during which the polite city inspector was making his own phone calls and yelling at his opponent about the "f-king Chinese" (I guess they were his previous or next stop). Finally, the following resolution was reached: the subcontractor paid the fully tax-subsidized city employee fifteen hundred dollars in cash, after which he (the subcontractor) was warned that if somebody else from the city comes and issues more tickets, it was not his (inspector's) problem. On that amiable note he departed.
Gee, I really wish I was able to work like this! Salary and gorgeous benefits for the whole family (willingly or unwillingly provided by the taxpayers); and then you would be able to put in a little overtime and earn some cash for vacation that you would need after such hard labors! I further wish somebody would offer me fifteen hundred dollars in cash and tax free; just imagine: my insurance company would save on my B12 shots, because I would just go to a spa, rest, and "pay up" some of my sleep debt. Everybody would win: my employers would gain better productivity, my insurance would save on payments, and the spa and spa employees would get extra revenue. I guess esteemed half-Kenyan; half-Muslim that managed to slither into the White House has it right, after all: government employees are the best people to stimulate the sluggish economy!
For some strange reason, I ended up knowing quite a few people in the construction/house renovation business. So, without further ado, here is a charming little story straight from one of my acquaintances.
This past Sunday morning, he was on his way to check on one of the job sites. All of a sudden, one of his workers calls him in a panic: "Inspector is here, and he told us to shut down!" So, the poor guy floors it, arrives at the site in record time, and finds the esteemed employee of the great city of New York issuing the following royal proclamation. Since there is no permit for working on Sunday, he is going to give tickets for every single building (that would have translated into a considerable hunk of lettuce), plus issue a stop order for two weeks (that would have basically left the owner of the project without his next to last under wears).
My acquaintance, being of the somewhat diplomatic bend, at first tried to explain that is was not his project, and he was only a subcontractor - the officer could not care less. Next, the sum of, if I am not mistaken, three hundred dollars was offered, which was met with open incredulity and comparisons to the sum total of tickets. The somewhat lively telephone exchange followed between the contractor and the subcontractor, during which the polite city inspector was making his own phone calls and yelling at his opponent about the "f-king Chinese" (I guess they were his previous or next stop). Finally, the following resolution was reached: the subcontractor paid the fully tax-subsidized city employee fifteen hundred dollars in cash, after which he (the subcontractor) was warned that if somebody else from the city comes and issues more tickets, it was not his (inspector's) problem. On that amiable note he departed.
Gee, I really wish I was able to work like this! Salary and gorgeous benefits for the whole family (willingly or unwillingly provided by the taxpayers); and then you would be able to put in a little overtime and earn some cash for vacation that you would need after such hard labors! I further wish somebody would offer me fifteen hundred dollars in cash and tax free; just imagine: my insurance company would save on my B12 shots, because I would just go to a spa, rest, and "pay up" some of my sleep debt. Everybody would win: my employers would gain better productivity, my insurance would save on payments, and the spa and spa employees would get extra revenue. I guess esteemed half-Kenyan; half-Muslim that managed to slither into the White House has it right, after all: government employees are the best people to stimulate the sluggish economy!
Monday, February 09, 2009
ONE FINE EVENING
One fine (at least I think it was fine) evening yours truly was making her slow way from the place of employment to the place of residence.
On the way home I stopped at the local supermarket. Checked the prices of food and cursed my favorite green people for driving those effing prices through the roof with bio fuel production and other nonsense. While shopping, also marveled at the latest abundant “multiculturalism” of my neighborhood, their universal and extremely unappealing non-Americanism, and cursed everyone responsible for the catastrophic influx of so called "undocumented workers". Finally came to my building; encountered more Russian cannibals (legal or illegal, I really do not care); cursed all responsible for allowing those cannibals to come here. Finished my chores. Went to my room and re-discovered the reason for my not only cursing, but actively fighting as well. Here, on my dresser, in plain view, was a latest picture of my niece that I was planning to frame. Later in the evening, accidently rediscovered another reason by glancing into a mirror that was never hung properly. I am not just fighting for the next generation, which was blessed enough to be born here; I am also fighting for myself and my generation!
G-d bless this country!
On the way home I stopped at the local supermarket. Checked the prices of food and cursed my favorite green people for driving those effing prices through the roof with bio fuel production and other nonsense. While shopping, also marveled at the latest abundant “multiculturalism” of my neighborhood, their universal and extremely unappealing non-Americanism, and cursed everyone responsible for the catastrophic influx of so called "undocumented workers". Finally came to my building; encountered more Russian cannibals (legal or illegal, I really do not care); cursed all responsible for allowing those cannibals to come here. Finished my chores. Went to my room and re-discovered the reason for my not only cursing, but actively fighting as well. Here, on my dresser, in plain view, was a latest picture of my niece that I was planning to frame. Later in the evening, accidently rediscovered another reason by glancing into a mirror that was never hung properly. I am not just fighting for the next generation, which was blessed enough to be born here; I am also fighting for myself and my generation!
G-d bless this country!
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