A Musing Farf

2009-03-22T15:48:00.001-07:00

HELLO - AND GOODBYE

For those folks who have wondered about the lack of blogging lately, all is well. Things are just very busy. In the last nine months, I have decided to make a career change and leave the law in order to become a doula, obtained my certification through DONA and actually started my own business, D is for Doula.

I have been blogging, although most of my blogging has been done at D is for Doula. So, while there will be occasional posts here on non-Mommy topics, if you would like to find me regularly, I invite you to check out DisforDoula.com

Thanks to everyone who was a regular reader of this blog. I really enjoyed being part of the community.

2008-12-21T05:38:00.000-08:00

HIGH SCHOOL AT THIRTY-THREE

In 1989 I started a new school. I was a freshman in high school and, while I could have enrolled in the local high school in the town in which I grew up, I ask made the decision to leave my friends behind and enroll in the Loomis Chaffee School.

I still remember the night before the first day of school very clearly. I could not sleep - the mix of nerves and excitement kept me awake – and I spent an inordinate amount of time deciding what my first day of school outfit should look like. Blue jeans were not allowed and I had no idea what the current fashion for a high schooler was (having never been one before). I remember thinking that the next 4 years would be defined by the outfit I chose. And, I still remember what I wore: a light blue skirt given to my by my cousin in exchange for writing one of his papers and a collared t-shirt. I am probably the only person who remembers that outfit.

When I arrived at school, I expected that everyone would be strangers to each other and was dismayed to discover that was not true. Instead, I found the cliques had formed and that people knew each other prior to the start of school. I met a girl named Cari (who 19 years later is still one of my best friends) and together, we navigated the perils of high school. At first, we formed a clique made up of people who had nothing in common other than the fact that they were not part of an already formed clique, but as people got to know each other, friendships faded, blossomed and changed.

By graduation, it was easy to forget who knew each other before school had started and who met in school. Instead of clinging to each other as we had in the early days, friendships were now based on common interests such as theater, sports, and mooning over cute boys. We had grown up together - learning how to deal with new and raw emotions and getting ready for life’s next steps. And, my senior year, I remember watching the freshman start school and go through what seemed like such as unique experience to me as a freshman.

Almost exactly 19 years after that first day of high school, I attended my first New Moms group. Meeting for 2 hours on Mondays, it was a support group for new moms in NYC and mostly a way to get out and meet other moms and spend some time talking to adults, as opposed to an infant. I have no idea what I wore to that meeting, but I spent an inordinate amount of time deciding how to dress my daughter. I remember thinking that my skills as a mother would be defined by the outfit I chose. Finally, after trying on several different onesies, I settled on one given to us by Cari. It was green with purple trim. I am probably the only person who remembers that outfit.

Just like in high school, when I arrived at the group, I expected that everyone would be strangers to each other and was dismayed to discover that was not true. Friends who had babies near in time to each other were attending and many in the group had been coming for several months and had become friends.

When I left the group, I called Cari to tell her how I had gone to the group, but had not met anyone with whom I felt a connection. She reminded me that, as the mother of an infant, just showering and getting out of the house was a triumph and that, more importantly, we had not met on the first day of school, but rather sometime in the second week. I had survived the first week alone.

So, I went back to the Moms’ group and also reached out to folks from my childbirth class. First there was Katy and then Sarah, and Caroline and Maria and Angela and others. At first I found people with whom I had nothing in common other than the fact that we were all first time moms with babies of a similar age. Six months later, friendships have faded, grown and changed and now, when we get together, the babies are not the only topic of conversation.

And, not so different from adolescence, the other new moms I have met have helped me make sense of the new and strange emotions I am experiencing. (It is nice to be reassured that I am not the only one who can no longer watch television shows involving sick and dying children without checking on the baby 40 times an hour). We bonded over husbands who don’t seem to hear the baby crying at 4am, laughed together when one of the baby boys projectile peed all over a strange woman at Lohemans and mourned together when we lost a member of our little clique.

Lat Monday, I went back to the Moms’ group. I had been going less often as Mondays have gotten busy and now that I have a great circle of friends, I don’t need the excuse to get out of the apartment or a pre-made group of adults for conversation. When I arrived, there were two women who mentioned they were attending for the first time. When I looked, I noticed how their babies outfits seemed meticulously planned and how they glanced from person to person, nervously looking for an excuse to talk to someone. And a way to break into what seemed like pre-established cliques.

Thinking back to how I felt that first day of high school, the first day at the Moms’ Group and thinking that not everyone is lucky enough to have a Cari in their lives to put everything in perspective, I simply walked up to them and asked how old their babies were. We spoke (mostly about the babies) for 30 miniutes and by the time I left the conversation, these women were exchanging emails addresses and phone numbers. I have no idea if they will remain friends, but it is nice to be the senior watching the freshman again.

2008-11-05T06:49:00.001-08:00

YES, WE DID

Yesterday, I braved the long lines and was rewarded for my efforts. No, not the voting lines (those were actually moving pretty fast), but the free Starbucks I got for voting – that line was almost 20 minutes long!

Actually, I can afford to be glib about the election since the outcome was exactly as I had hoped. I woke up this morning feeling a bit different than I had the last few days and realized that, although I did not initially support Obama (I was a Hillary supporter),
I really bought into his message for hope and for the first time in a while, I was actually proud to be an American last night.

I am excited and proud to have this charismatic and inspirational person leading the country and really believe that he can change the perception of Americans abroad and undo the damage the Bush Administration has inflicted in the last eight years.

Husband and I went to the polls yesterday with the Baby and voted as a family. I even let the Baby pull the lever for me (although I am afraid she may be a closet Republican as she reached out for the McCain lever and I had to redirect her hand). So now, I am interested to see how Obama shapes the presidency and brings our country back from the ruins…

2008-09-11T08:14:00.000-07:00

KARMA

I like to think that I am generally a good person. I actually enjoy helping others. In the last couple of weeks, I have donated breast milk to a woman who survived breast cancer and whose baby can not tolerate formula (I had tons of pumped milk from when I was eating dairy and beef, and it turns out that BG can not digest the bovine protein and my bovine protein-laden breast milk was making her sick). It was way better than throwing it away and I felt good to help. Then, I helped a blind man find his way on the subway and made arrangements to donate my old maternity clothes to a shelter for victims of domestic violence. Sadly, they have a real need for maternity clothes, which is a horrible thing to think about.

And yet, despite all my do-gooding, I feel like in the last week or so, Karma has not been on my side. First, my cell phone was stolen out of the stroller. Then the people who stole it attempted to hold it for $100 ransom. I actually was going to pay the ransom since I wanted the calendar and photos from the phone, but when I showed up at the appointed location to get my phone back, the people who stole it never showed up.

Then, I was supposed to meet with my old employer in order to work out the terms of my departure from the firm. Instead, I was ambushed with “issues” that they discovered in my work since I went on maternity leave and Evil Partner flatly refused to discuss the payout I was promised until the issues are resolved. (And, it looks like the only resolution that he will find acceptable is for me to tell them I engaged in unethical practices. While I may be guilty of a careless error and misfiling a piece of paper, there was no unethical conduct and I won’t admit to something I did not do!)

But hopefully, my week will start to improve. The shower repair guys showed up on time, a friend from prenatal yoga class had her baby and is meeting me for Mommy & Me and coffee afterwards and tonight I am seeing Hair. Sunday I have tickets to [Title of the Show] with Wuzi and, as Stitch pointed out, the people who stole my phone did not mug me when I tried to get the phone back.

So maybe I just need to help a few more needy folks and the work issues will be resolved.

2008-09-10T10:30:00.001-07:00

THE BABYSITTER IS HERE

I think I am finally getting into the swing of this motherhood thing. I have a group of new mom friends, BG is involved in all sorts of age appropriate classes to help her develop both intellectually and physically and, most importantly, we have a regular babysitter!

I posted a job ad with the Barnard Babysitting Services and got a response from a wonderful student. Babysitter came by today in order to meet me and BG and has tons of babysitting experience, including acting as a nanny last summer for her cousin’s newborn. I am spying on Babysitter right now as she pays with BG (the baby monitor has a video option) and she seems like she will do just fine. This means I can get out during the day and get my nails done, go to the gym and Husband and I can go out one Saturday per month and catch a movie, get dinner or just be baby-free. Babysitter is already booked on Wednesday morning so I can go get a manicure. To me, a nail salon is an inappropriate place for a baby – too many chemicals.

Or, at moments like this, I can sit down and blog knowing that BG is well cared for. And, even if Babysitter is not as good a caretaker as I am, well, that is okay as long as BG is happy and well cared for. And, right now, Babysitter is reading to BG –something I rarely have time to do during the day (although we do read two books every night and one in the morning at least).

Babysitter actually offered to stay for the entire afternoon gratis in order for me to feel comfortable with her and so she could get to know BG, but Evil Partner wants me to come in for an exit meeting (basically so he can yell at me one last time) and I want to bring BG so that if she cries, I have an excuse to cut the meeting short. Hahaha. I am already using my child for my own selfish needs.

Boo! Babysitter is leaving. So much for my free time….

2008-08-26T03:43:00.000-07:00

BACK TO THE FUTURE

I never thought I would find fulfillment in staying home and raising my child, but more and more, it is what I think I want to do. Seeing BG smile is more rewarding to me than any bonus I have ever received and, despite my fears when she was born, I am not just sitting bored at home. We take classes where I meet other moms, we go for walks around the City and, even on those rainy days where the idea of leaving the house seems an impossible task, we manage to have a good time. And all of this has happened before she even learned to talk.

Then, I think about my own childhood and how my mother did not work outside the home. Instead, she worked on raising me and my siblings. And we all knew that if a homework assignment was accidentally left at home or we forgot to bring sneakers for gym class, we could count on Mother to save the day by arriving to school in her station wagon with whatever it was we needed. Or just the afternoons when we were home and we would chat about our days. I have a closeness with my mom (and so do my friends who had moms who were home with them) that I want to replicate with my own daughter.

Now, this is certainly not meant to belittle moms who want to work at outside careers. The thing I learned in my mere 11 weeks as a mom is that the best moms are those that are happy and content in their lives - whether because they have a life outside the kids or a career or not - and that everyone has to do what makes them happiest in life.

But, there is more to it. There is something I am loath to admit. Lately, when Husband comes home from work and the house is clean and dinner is cooking (or at least the take-in has been ordered) and the baby is quiet, I feel like I accomplished more than I felt like I accomplished at the office. What is even scarier to me (and harder to admit) is that I really like doing it. Going to BG's clothes, organizing them, arranging toys and packing up outgrown clothes is not fun. It is a chore and I recognize that. But, when Husband came home from work, I could not wait to show him what I had done. I was proud of myself. And I continue to be proud of myself for managing to vacuum the apartment, finishing the laundry or sewing a town pair of shorts.

Part of me worries that I am backsliding and falling into the the gender stereotypes of the 1950's, but in reality I know this is not true. Husband assumed childcare duties last night so I could have dinner and a drink with a girlfriend and, while I do the bulk of childcare even on nights and weekends, Husband definitely takes an active role and helps me considerably.

And then there is the practical side of me: I have thousands of dollars in law school debt, Husband and I have a mortgage, we need to eat and occasionally, we like to go to the movies. This all takes money and my income certainly helps with that. But then again, my old salary was barely more than it would cost to pay for childcare. But, as I have written before when contemplating this topic, theoretically, my salary would go up as childcare costs go down.

Husband, ever the practical one, thinks my going back to work is the right decision. But maybe, just maybe I can convince him otherwise. I wonder if it would help if I made a cherry pie first.

2008-08-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

WHERE DID I COME FROM?

One day, I fully expect Baby Girl to ask me where she came from. When that time comes, I hope to have an honest and forthright conversation with her - to the best she can understand - and fill in gaps in knowledge as she can process them. (No child of mine will believe you can't get pregnant the first time!) But, in the meantime, I sit and wonder where this little angel came from.

So much of this baby looks familiar: She has her father's expressions, sleeps in the same position as her uncle and Pops, has fingers that look like mine and the long eyelashes of both her father and me. But so much is unaccounted for: the olive colored skin that almost everyone remarks upon, her grey eyes and the Mongolian Blue spot.

It's weird. As I sit now and watch her nap (so much for my attempt to go to Mommy and Me yoga today), I have started to become curious about my family tree. According to Wikipedia and other sites, the incidence of a Mongolian Blue Spot is a minor skin blemish that disappears around puberty and while is is present in almost all babies of East Asian heritage*, is almost non-existent among Caucasians - except for those of Hungarian descent. Apparently the Hungarians mingled with the Hun population and therefore Hungarians tend to have these spots. The incidence among Hungarian Jews is even higher than that of the rest of the Hungarian population. Apparently, we are a horny people.

My maternal grandmother is Hungarian. When asked, she swore that we are 100% Jewish and that as far as she knows, no one in her family ever married someone of East Asian Descent. when I asked her if perhaps there was a non-marital dalliance with one of her ancestors and as East Asian, she giggled. She really liked the idea. Like I said, we are a horny people.

So, that mystery is solved. Whew, when I saw the spot, all sorts of crazy ideas ran through my head - she is developing back and blue marks (someone hurt her), she is sick, the hospital gave us the wrong baby (not like we were giving her back though!) and other insane ideas too embarrassing to be mentioned here.

Now to figure out where she got that lovely skin color and those grey eyes.

*Chinese believe that if you are reluctant to be reincarnated, the King of Hell prods and kicks you until you agree to go and that causes the spot. Husband's cousin told me that when they baby smiles in her sleep, she is reliving her past lives and shutting the doors in order to more fully live this life. The more she smiles, the happier her past life. Baby Girl smiles all the time when she sleeps, so I like the idea that she was so happy in her last life that she was a little reluctant for another go around.

2008-08-20T04:26:00.000-07:00

NOW I GET IT

As a kid, I used to wonder why the heck my mother was always up so early. If the rest of the household was getting up around 8am, my mom was up at 6am. She always made excuses about having to do laundry or needing to clean up, but she was generally up early even when there was not lots of laundry to be done or the house was spotless.

Now that I am the mom, I think I finally understand the deeper reason. I woke up at 6am today and started laundry and then sat down to check email and otherwise take some time to myself and it occured to me - this early hour is literally the only time I now have to myself during the day. Once Baby Girl and Husband are awke, there are chores to be done, a baby to be fed and held and my personal quiet time is over.

It was not until I started staying home with the baby that I realized how often at awork I would shut my office door and just take a moment to regroup with my thoughts. And, on days where that was not really possible, I had the subway ride to and from work or a quick Starbucks run when I needed a break. Baby Girl does not respect my need for this. And, at 10 weeks old, I suppose it will be a while before I can tell her, "Mommy needs 5 minutes to herself."

So, for now, this is my time and I am happy to have it.

2008-08-19T06:47:00.000-07:00

SHOWING OFF THE BABY

Just a couple photos of my little princess.

2008-08-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

A QUICK NOTE

It’s one of those rare quiet moments when Justin has left for work, the dogs are in day care and the baby is sleeping. Baby Girl (BG) and I spent the last week relaxing at my parents’ house in CT, lounging by the pool, swimming and visiting friends and their new babies. Tiki and Cody loved playing off leash in the yard and everyone was pretty sad to leave, but we had to head back to NY, resume our routine and spend some time with Husband, who has not seen his daughter in a week and was missing his family very much!

Being back in CT with my family was wonderful. In addition to Mother helping with the baby, Meme and Uncle Mister stopped by daily to hang out with the newest member of the family and that meant I actually got to read a book, finish a knitting project and nap. It was like a real vacation!

What I can not get over is all the changes the last week brought. BG has now discovered the jogs of thumb sucking and barely nurses because I can’t get the thumb out of her mouth! She also now follows conversations and sounds and I swear that she was actually rooting for Michael Phelps to win an 8th Gold Medal. (She stayed up, stared at the television and then smiled when he won). And that’s the other thing – now at just shy of 10 weeks, she smiles all the time and it wonderful. I finally feel like all my little songs, games and other interactions get some sort of positive feedback. Yippee.

My next accomplishment will be to learn how to use Facebook and maybe even finish my dog training course so I can start getting paid for my efforts. And, to be a more regular blogger. But first, I need to get my baby out of her dirty diaper….

2008-08-06T12:24:00.001-07:00

BIRTH STORY AND EXCUSE FOR MY LACK OF BLOGGING

On Friday, June 6, 2008, I went for a routine OB appointment for my 37 week check. By this point in my pregnancy, I was ready to be done. Although I actually had a pretty easy pregnancy and loved the fact that I could basically demand that people on the subway give me their seats, I wanted to meet my daughter and hold her in my arms. So, imagine my surprise when the doctor told me I was already 4 cm dilated (at 10 cm you give birth) and that since this was a first child, while I could go until my due date, he thought that was highly unlikely.

I love my OB and could not have asked for a provider who was more in tune with my needs and my birth plan, but at the same time, his news made me nervous. I had heard such horror stories of hospital births and I did not want to be forced into a hospital protocol. No IV, no drugs. I wanted a completely natural birth and needed to be sure that my provider would comply with my wishes. When he told me I was dilated, the list of last minute questions I had brought with me to my appointment was instantly forgotten and instead, a list of necessary products (diapers, wipes, blankets, etc) filled my head. I left the doctor and called Husband. “Are you ready to be a Daddy?” I asked. We cancelled plans for that night and agreed to meet for a last minute shopping trip for baby supplies.

The next several days where a whirlwind as I made all sorts of last minute plans for a baby who looked like she may come early. We met with the doula and signed the contracts, purchased diapers and blankets and pretty much started doing whatever we could to make the birth happen – spicy food, coffee, chocolate, etc. If there was an old wives tale about speeding up birth, we tried it.

The following Monday, I woke up in wet sheets. Convinced my water had broken during the night, I called the doctors and the doula and made an appointment to go to the hospital and get checked. My water had not broken and I was still 4 cm dialated. Apparently, I was peeing myself. Lovely. Disheartened, Husband and I headed home.

Wednesday started off normal and I was excited to leave work early and get my hair done. My colorist only works a few days a week and if I had to cancel the appointment, it would take weeks, if not more than a month, to get another appointment. As I left the hair appointment, I began to experience mild cramps.

The cramps felt like period cramps and I called Husband to let him know I would be home late and was going to a yoga class in order to try and stretch out the cramps. In the cab home, I also called Mother, who told me it sounded like I was in labor. I acknowledged that she might be right but decided to go to yoga anyway and work through what seemed like early labor.

Up in my apartment, I changed into yoga clothes and sat on the birthing ball to watch a little television until it was time to leave for yoga. It was 6:15pm. At around 6:30pm, the birthing ball became uncomfortable and I decided to forgo yoga for a relaxing bath. In the bath, the cramps became stronger and I think I realized I was actually in labor. Still, remembering that labor can take 24 hours, I tried to ignore the cramps as much as possible and time the contractions.

At approximately 6:45pm, I experienced a contraction that literally knocked the breath out of me and, in a panic, I called Husband and told him to come immediately home. He did not get the message and came home 30 minutes later with the dogs to find me (as he puts it), “flopping around in the bathtub.”

The most comfortable places were the toilet and the bathtub and after trying for a while to time to contractions, we called our doula to get her opinion. I certainly did not want her to trek out to me if labor was going to be long and drawn out, but I also did want her to reassure me that I could make it through labor without drugs. Husband and I timed the contractions and thought they were about 13 minutes apart. We called Doggie Day care and had them come and pick up the dogs for an overnight stay.

The doula came over a half hour later and took about 10 seconds to assess the situation. Contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and had been for a while. See, no one told Husband or me that you time all contractions, so we were only timing the big ones. The little ones - ones I could walk, talk or otherwise pretty much ignore – well, we ignored them.

So, we were on the way to the hospital. Parents were called, C was called (my best friend from high school, I really wanted her at my birth) and Husband called the OB to let him know we were on our way.

I wanted so badly to push. Every instinct in my body told me to bear down and push, but the doula begged me not to push and kept instructing me to “blow like you are blowing out a candle.” I pretty much crawled into the hospital on all fours.

Once in the hospital, we were waiting in triage when my water broke. It was about 9:40pm at this point and moments later, I found myself being checkout out by the doctors. I could not stay still. I wanted to rock on all fours, squat, walk and generally be in any position but lying down. But, the hospital staff wanted to monitor me and despite my protests, I was put into a supine position and hooked up to external monitors. I tolerated that for about 30 seconds before ripping off the monitors. My OB showed up at this point, asked me to lie back so that he could examine me, announced that he saw hair (not mine as I had been waxed just a couple days ago!) and moved me into a birthing room.

Husband ran out to try and secure us a private postpardum room and I got set up in a birthing room. (Basically, this is a room with a bed, an incubator and some medical equipment) The OB put a birthing bar on the foot of the bed to that I could put my feet against it to push and Husband returned as I started to push (this time with the doula and the OB’s blessing). About 30 minutes later, our daughter was born.

I watched most of it through a mirror, Husband watched live (both things neither of us though we would want to do). The OB offered to let me catch the baby myself, but at the last minute, I chickened out and had him do it, and Husband cut the cord. The baby was immediately placed onto my chest and I breastfed her and Husband and I shared some quiet time with the newest member of our family.

It was the birth experience I really wanted. No drugs, no IV, no needles and no real pain. My OB was a wonderful provider and one I would use again in a hearbeat. Even my doula wants him as her OB. Sure, it was a hospital birth, but I could have been at home I was so comfortable and I really consider myself lucky to have had such a wonderful support system. C, my parents and Husband’s parents all got to the hospital and were visiting soon after the baby was born. And now, to look at my daughter and remember how wonderful her birth was, I feel truly blessed. The only downside is that I can never guilt trip her with stories of how I suffered while she was being born, but I suppose, for such a wonderful birth experience, I can forgive that one little detail…

2008-06-10T15:22:00.001-07:00

A QUICK UPDATE

So it’s been a while and things have been overwhelmingly busy. Of everything that has to slip to the wayside, blogging was one of the first things to go. However, now that I have a rare moment of peace and quiet, I thought I would take a few minutes for a new posting.

Over the last couple months, a million topics have come to mind and, of course, now that I am sitting down to write, I seem to have forgotten them all. So instead of concentrating on trying to remember all those forgotten topics, I am going to selfishly update this blog with updates as to what has been going on lately.

First of all, huge kudos go out to Sister. She has put me and Husband and the dogs up in her place not once, but twice. She also has been a most willing babysitter to the dogs while apartment renovations have been underway. Turns out the Cody’s separation anxiety has returned and he was barking while we were not home. Sister has, on multiple occasions, given up plans so that we can leave the dogs with her at her apartment and continues to be helpful in a million ways that I can barely describe.

Apartment renovations were supposed to be done this week, but given the sloppy work of the guys that were supposed to install the stone countertops today, I imagine that there is at least another week of work on the horizen. Still, we now have a functional kitchen and a working bathroom (minus the bathroom sink, which should be installed this week) and a completed living room. The baby’s room is no longer a storage place for boxes, but actually has some baby stuff in it.

And speaking of baby, it is a good thing that the room is pretty much ready since it looks like the baby won’t be waiting until June 27th to enter the world. When I went to the doctor on Friday, I was already dilated 3.5 cm and experiencing what turns out to be mild contractions (I thought it was just a stomach ache). But, we spent the weekend doing some last minute shopping, packing the hospital bag and generally getting things together so we are ready for the baby when she makes the decision to enter the world.

Oh right, and we gave up on keeping the gender a secret. It was too much of an aggravation and so we admitted to those who asked that the baby will be a girl. Or, at least we think it will. We never got actual confirmation but the tech seemed to agree with our assessment.

Anyway, that is pretty much the update. Hopefully, this little post will get me back into the blogging spirit….

2008-04-08T04:49:00.000-07:00

C IS FOR COOKIE. T IS FOR TUNA

When I was a little kid, my parents would sometimes go away together and leave us at my aunt Meme's house for a long weekend. I loved when they did this. I mean, sure, I missed my parents, but staying at Meme's meant new toys to play with, cousins who always made me giggle and, as a kid, I mostly thought about the cabinet of treats.

Meme's house has something very important that was lacking in my own home: a pantry filled with things like Vanilla Wafers, Fig Newtons and other yummy delights. And the best part, it was all within reach of a small child! I would happily reach in whenever the sugar urge struck me (which ironically, was less than at home where such things were often not in the house) and pull out a cookie or cracker. A child's version of heaven.

Now, as an adult, I rarely keep cookies and such items in the house. Like Mother, I have a horrible sweet tooth and if I had a pantry like Meme's, I would constantly be eating out of it and gain tons of weight (not to mention a very unhealthy lifestyle). I am sure that one day, my child will prefer staying at relative's houses for the same reason that I loved visiting Meme.

I know that for my dogs, they are very happy that we are all living with Sister while the new apartment undergoes some renovations. The love the air mattress that Sister's boyfriend (SuperRob) brought over and seem to be very content relaxing on her couch as well. But, last night, for the first time, I realized that if I were to leave them alone with Sister for a weekend, they would likely not even miss me. It would be just like when my parents left us at Meme's house.

Last night I met a new friend from my dog training class for a quick glass of wine (I dare you to judge me for it!) and some food. We were having a blast and time quickly flew. I looked at my watch, saw it was 9:30, the time I had promised Sister I would be home, hastily said goodbye and jumped into a cab. As we sped toward Sister and the dogs, i figured I would call to check in and make sure that 1. Sister knew I was on my way; and 2. to ensure that the dogs were not missing me too badly (Cody will often cry when he gets home if Husband and I are not there).

"Hey, I am on my way in a cab, " I informed Sister when she answered.

"Ok," she replied. "Can the dogs eat tuna?"

"A little bit is fine," I told her.

"Ok. Bye," she said, abruptly hanging up on me.

I wondered what was going and and when I walked into Sister's apartment, both dogs looked absolutely blissful. Turns out, Sister had split an order of sushi with them and all three had gorged themselves on tuna rolls, tuna sushi and rice. Neither dog looked particularly excited to have me home.

And this morning it hit me. I had walked in immediately following the dogs being able to have all the treats they wanted and they gave me the same reaction I used to give my parents when they walked in right after my fourth Vanilla Wafer.

I guess everyone (even dogs) need a Meme to spoil them occasionally.

2008-04-01T13:32:00.000-07:00

PARENTING SKILLS TESTED

It’s amazing how fast time has gone by this month. I don’t think I have ever been this busy at work and getting the apartment together feels like a never-ending process. But, we do have a slight update: We now have a (mostly) finished living room and the kitchen has a working microwave, oven, stove and sink. Sure, there is still no bathroom and Husband, the doggies, and I will be moving in with Sister for a week while the bathroom is being done, but there seems like there is an end in sight and for the first time, I think the apartment may be finished before the baby is born, which is really all I wanted.

Actually, as we get closer to having an actual baby (as opposed to a fetus) I alternate between feeling like a baby is going to be much harder than I think and feeling like I really will be a good mother. Tiki and Cody the wonder dogs (aka double Trouble) are a huge part of my parenting practice.

For example, the other day, I noticed that Tiki was peeing weird and took him to the vet. Initially, the vet said nothing was wrong and offered some antibiotics as a prophylactic (which I accepted) but insisted on more tests. Sure enough, it turns out the Tiki had kidney stones and I congratulated myself on knowing my baby well enough to insist on medical care, even when the vet said it was not necessary. Oh yeah. I can totally handle a human baby.

But then, as though he knew my confidence was soaring, Cody (who has been uncomfortable in the new apartment) developed massive separation anxiety and howls whenever we leave the apartment. A couple weeks after moving in, we left Tiki and Cody crated in the apartment while we had dinner with Photogenic Friends, who had just moved into their new apartment in Brooklyn. The night was really fun and when we got home, we were surprised to see a note on our door. Apparently Cody was crying all night and kept up the neighbor who loves below. (Of course, he left an anonymous note so it took us a while to figure out who was complaining). I worked really hard with him and finally figured we had progressed to the point where he and Tiki could be left uncrated in the apartment.

So, Sunday night, I left the dogs uncrated in the living room (blocked with puppy gates) and went to the movies with Husband for the first bit of relaxation all weekend. When we came home, both dogs greeted us at the door, having jumped the gates, and we noticed the trash had been torn apartment and so had the remains of good bags given to us at a party the previous evening. One or both dogs had eaten sugarless gum, chocolate, and oatmeal raisin bars. All three things are toxic to dogs and could be fatal, and my first reaction was to freak out. But, instead, I had Husband walk them (in case diarrhea was coming) and called Animal Poison Control. Following the instructions given by the vet over the phone, I induced vomiting in the dogs and went to bed. Ugh, I will be the worst mother ever and likely kill my child.

As I was retelling this story to a friend, she commented that, despite allowing the dogs to get into something dangerous to being with, I actually handled the situation well by being calm and just figuring out a solution to the problem. According to my friend, she screws up all the time as a mother and the trick is just fixing the problems she causes before they get out of control or cause real damage. That made me feel better.

So maybe I will be okay in a couple months. But then again, not sure how to remedy the fact that for the last month, I have been breathing in lead paint dust during renovations. Ah, the conflict continues…

2008-03-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

A SILVER LINING TO A CRAPPY WEEK

So last week was one I hope never to repeat. Let’s start with the basics. I moved into my new apartment, which is still undergoing extensive renovations. We have a toilet and shower (currently draped in plastic with cardboard boxes as the floor), no sink, no kitchen, no living room and are living out of the bedroom. The bed serves as our couch, dining table, bed and desk. The dogs are stressed, I am frustrated and Husband is surprisingly calm about the entire ordeal (which is like bizarro world to me).

Then, to top it off, I was having the busiest week at work I had ever experienced. Three motions were all due, 4 client deadlines and an oral argument in Federal Court. I could have worked all night every night and still not finished. And of course, the whole pregnancy thing was not helping since I am starting to feel awkward in my own body. Just big enough that my belly and boobs are in my way, my back hurts and I am getting sick of this whole pregnancy thing.

But, sometimes, your body has a special way of telling you to slow down, and for me that came in the form of pneumonia. I went to bed on Thursday night with a sore throat, cough and congestion. I woke up on Friday with a massive hacking cough, chills, headache and general aching. Husband handled the entire move while I sat in Starbucks drinking tea and trying to stay awake.

All day Friday, things felt worse and worse and on Sunday, when I could not stand up, I finally paged my OBGYN to find out what medications I could take while pregnant. Robitussin and cough drops were pretty much it. And some Tylenol for the fever.

That weekend, Husband unpacked what he could, took care of the dogs, let me nap as much as I needed and bought an electric kettle in order to make me hot tea to soothe the cough. He spoke to the doctor when I was too sick and carried me to the makeshift bathroom at 3am when I was so dizzy that I could not stand up.

Monday morning, I went to the doctor and after a bunch of tests and a fight with my General Practitioner (I really hate him but only remember that I hate him when I am too sick to do anything about it) I had chest x-rays and the diagnosis came back with pneumonia. A prescription for antibiotics, fluids and rest followed and I missed the entire week of work.

While the construction guys were in my apartment I went to Sisters and napped in her bed and on her couch. I used her kettle to make tea and Mother came over several times in order to keep me company, make sure I was drinking those fluids and check my temperature. I came home every night after Sister got home from work (she brought me cookies from my favorite bakery) and Husband got me soup and bread to settle my stomach. My Nana called to check in on how I was feeling. Various Aunts called and offered whatever services they could, Father offered to make me chicken soup (which I declined since last time he tried to make me soup, I thought he was poisoning me) and my coworkers took on all the assignments without complaint. Even Evil Partner, in a surprising show if humanity, told me to take it easy and be careful of a relapse.

So, while I physically felt miserable, it was nice to know what a wonderful support system I have and how many people care about me. And, while I never want to go through another week like last week again, it was reaffirming to know how wonderful the people in my life really are.

2008-02-27T06:03:00.001-08:00

MOVING DAY

So this Friday, I am moving to Beirut circa 1984. Well, at least that is how the contractor described the condition of the new apartment. There is no running water and exposed electrical wires. There is no kitchen and no bathroom, and even if there was, they would be useless since there is no plumbing right now. There will be almost no furniture, which is not a bad thing since there is dust and bits of plaster everywhere. I suppose that since there are not bullets flying through the windows (as there may have been if I have moved to this neighborhood 25 years ago), I should count myself lucky.

A month ago, when we gave notice on our current apartment and decided to move into the new place during renovations, this seemed like a good idea. The contractor was confident that most of the apartment would be completed and that, at the very least, there would be a working shower and toilet, even if there were not yet tiles on the floor. But, through no fault of our contractor (who we actually adore and would work with again in a heartbeat), the co-op board delayed and delayed on the required approvals and work is really just beginning. So we are weeks behind our original timetable and I begin to understand why our contractor refuses to put a “time is of the essence” clause in a contract concerning co-op renovations.

But, Husband and I are up to the challenge. We are going to “camp” in our new place and Sister has generously given us the key to her place for middle of the night bathroom emergencies and morning showers. Husband, Tiki, Cody and I will all live in the master bedroom and hope that the dust we are inhaling contains only minimal amounts of lead. (And, if there is lead, then when Sesame is actually born and does something stupid, I can tell him/her that it is not their fault but because Mommy inhaled poison during pregnancy.)

I will continue updates as the renovations continue and, in the meantime, am glad to have an office with a nice clean bathroom. Somehow, I see many a late work night in my future over the next couple of weeks.

2008-02-25T14:36:00.000-08:00

INVESTING IN MY FUTURE

Just this week, the accountant at my office asked me if I was pregnant. Apparently she was out of the office when I made the big announcement in December and had just figured I had been gaining weight over the last few months.

"Congratulations!" She gushed when she saw me. We talked about when I am due (June 27th) and how much she loved it when her kids were born. And then this:

"I suppose when the baby comes, you'll want to be a stay at home Mommy, right?"

I have spent many a sleepless night lying awake feeling my unborn child kick me non-stop and wondering about how the impending birth is going to change my life. First and foremost on my mind is childcare.

I live in Manhattan and work helping low income people fight for livable wages. The problem is that while I feel really good about my career choice, I barely make a livable wage myself. I never really cared about this since Husband, Sister and the rest of my family are generous enough to pay for vacations and the occasional meal, and while I do appreciate having nice things, I can also live without.

And, while there are certain aspects of my current job that I really don't like, I do like working overall. In fact, I love being busy with my work and my volunteer activities and can not imagine giving them up. Do I want to be an attorney forever? Likely not. Are there other career opportunities that I am eager to explore? Most definitely!

So then, Husband and I wrestle with the different ways to handle child care. Mother generously offered to help out a few times a week, but I feel bad having her watch my child just when all of her children are grown. Mother has fabulous vacations planned and keeps a relatively full schedule. She does not need a nanny job.

And what about a professional nanny? Well, the starting salary is somewhere around $600 per week, not including healthcare and overtime. I make just barely more than that and I have wondered about the trade off of working just to pay the nanny.

And then there is day care. At $2000+ a month on average, it is slightly out of our price range and the places we have explored do not allow child to enroll before 8 months of age. So that would be 8 months where I would be out of work and the idea of trying to catch back up and re-hone my skills terrifies me.

Part of me thinks of the cost of child care as an investment in my career. Money I am putting in now to ensure a higher return in the future. And part of me wonders why I am so eager to leave my child and go back to work even before it is born.

But the other day, I met a group of women who really helped to clarify my thinking on the subject. We had gathered for a roundtable discussion about how the Clinton campaign resonates with working women and, due to my obvious pregnancy, the topic of working motherhood came up. One of the woman who was part of the discussion runs Working Mother Magazine, so clearly she had some insight into the matter.

I was open and honest regarding my fears for the future: our lack of affordable childcare options, society’s expectation that I stay home, the fact that Husband’s salary is so much more than mine and thus the one we rely on more. And also I spoke about how I am happiest when I am busy and thrive on participating in things like NYC Shiba Rescue, Haven Coalition and even my job (especially when Evil Partner is on vacation). I don’t know if I would be satisfied with full time motherhood and think I may even begin to feel isolated from my friends.

The women of the group nodded in sympathy. They had all been in my position and all felt like they were fighting an uphill battle against the same forces I felt.

One woman nodded in sympathy when I explained how the nanny would make more than I do (or close to it) and told me, “Going into debt for childcare is an investment in your future. It’s like going into debt for law school. You are paying out money now and expecting a huge return on your future.”

That was a moment of clarity for me. It’s okay to work just to pay the nanny (if that is what I choose) since the personal and career rewards I would reap from that investment would more than pay me back. And, while that may not ultimately be the decision I make, and I certainly would never fault those who made a different decision, it is nice to know that when the time comes, I am not alone.

And really, whether I go back to work right away, take some time off or never go back to the workforce, I am investing in my future. I am doing something that may not be cost effective now because I know the benefits I will have in the future. And I am lucky to have so many options.

So, the next time someone like my office accountant makes the assumption that I want to stay at home, maybe I will just tell them that I will be investing in my future leave it at that.

2008-02-23T19:39:00.000-08:00

LESSONS LEARNED WHILE MOVING

I had meant to write a post about how the other day, I participated in a rountable discussion with working women in NYC in order to discuss how the Clinton campaign resonated with them. Whether or not these woman supported Clinton's campaign for the White House, they also saw gender as a huge factor in the race and felt that Clinton was judged differently from her male counterparts. This post was supposed to be about how these woman, all mothers, made me reevaluate my own priorities and offered insight into working motherhood which changed my plans for the future and made me realize that I was not being true to myself, but rather what I felt society expected of me. That post will have to wait.

Instead, I would like to offer a quick lesson to anyone moving homes who may have a dog: If you decide to consolidate your CD collection and remove all the cases in order to store the CDs in a box to later upload to iTunes, make sure that you don't use the same box where you previously stored dog bones. And, if you do use the same box for CDs as you previously used for dog bones, do not leave it on the floor while you attend a friend's birthday dinner. Nothing good comes from that.

2008-02-20T10:49:00.000-08:00

OH BABY

So, I realized that I almost never blog about the pregnancy. And really, what’s the point? I feel fat and tired, have heartburn and insomnia and generally am no different from any of the other women before me at 21 weeks of pregnancy.

But actually, I am really lucky. I have a great support system of friends and family and two of my good friends are due within a couple weeks of me so my baby will have some ready made playmates. Plus, I am taking pre-natal yoga and made a friend in that class who is due right around the same time. But, despite the changes I have had to make – new clothes, no wine with dinner (well, less wine with dinner), more vitamins and meat cooked beyond raw – the fact that Husband and I are going to be parents has not really hit me.

I could never picture beyond the delivery day, never really pictured a baby or a small child in my life on a permanent basis. And when I did, I actually sort of pictured an arrangement like I have with my dogs – give them love and attention and they reward me with kisses and good behavior. But yesterday, all that changed.

Husband and I took some time yesterday to go to the doctor’s and get the required 20-week ultrasound where they check to make sure things like the fetus has all it’s fingers and toes and that the heart and brain are there. (Yes, I realize I am 21 weeks pregnant but since abortion is legal in NYC until 24 weeks, I knew that if something was wrong, we would still have time to make decisions). Thankfully, nothing appeared wrong. Everything seems to be progressing on schedule and normally. Sure, the fetus has unusually large feet, but so do I so it’s not like that was a surprise.

Going into the ultrasound, Husband and I decided that we did not want to know our future baby’s gender. There are so few surprises in life where either way is good, that we wanted to keep it a surprise from ourselves. Besides, the room was already painted yellow so it’s not like we were re-painting pink or blue. And being that my mother, grandmothers and countless generations of Jewish women before me have imposed their superstitions on me, it’s not like we are really buying anything before the baby is born anyway. But then, in the ultrasound room, the technician asked us if we wanted to know the gender and I looked at Husband who pleaded with me with his eyes to say “yes” and we looked at the picture and knew even before the tech said anything. So, we know that we are having a ______.

Oh, wait. Did I mention that we decided not to tell anyone what the gender is? We had actually decided that well before the ultrasound. We just wanted to keep part of the pregnancy to ourselves. And really, given that my family is mostly girls and Husband’s is mostly boys, we figured the odds were not stacked in any particular way. Plus, I was convinced we are having a boy and Husband was convinced we are having a girl and neither of us cared too much either way, so why make a big deal out of it?

But the thing is, it has become a big deal. My mother is so annoyed that we won’t tell and my father even tried to get it out of me. We are calling Husband’s parents’ tonight to tell them all about the ultrasound results and I am pretty sure they will be equally as unthrilled with our decision to not revel gender.

There is more to my decision though than just wanting to keep this one thing to ourselves for just a few more months (although that is the major reason), the other part is that my poor child will be bombarded by gender stereotypes pretty much from the moment it is born. Toys will be pink or blue, clothes will be the same and I am not sure I want all of that pressure pre-birth. I do not think it will scar a baby boy to wear a pink onesie (so Mara, pass on your hand-me-downs) nor will a little girl be disturbed by being in blue (Cari, that means I want your old stuff as well) and no matter the gender, this child will grow up with an appreciation of sports as well as the ability to whip up dinner and dessert for six without more than 60 minutes notice.

But for me, weirdly, knowing the gender made the fact that I am having a baby seem all too real. I can now picture future events from a specific perspective and the little thing we have affectionately referred to as “Sesame” (since it was the size of a sesame seed at the first appointment) now has an actual person’s name. I can look forward to a bris/baby naming and I can finally see a moment beyond the delivery.

2008-02-19T17:59:00.000-08:00

BACK FROM ARGENTINA

Actually, I got back yesterday and pretty much slept the rest of the day. Those overnight flights are brutal for folks like me (read: people who are incapable of sleeping on airplanes without prescription drugs). And while I would normally pop 20mg of Ambien, down it with a glass of wine and wake up 11 hours later, my doctor has frowned on this sort of this since the whole pregnancy thing started.

The trip was unbelievable and Husband and I are already talking about going to Patagonia again. He is super jealous.

And yet, as much as I missed him and the dogs, I am pretty glad to have been gone this week. The weather was terrible in NY (it was 85 and sunny every day in Argentina), Cody escaped and had an afternoon running free though the wilds of Connecticut when Husband went to visit his parents (I played with a puppy on a ranch outside of Buenos Aires who followed me around), and both dogs were sprayed by a skunk (I saw baby penguins and elephant seals).

But to give Husband credit, he did a wonderful job of holding down the fort. The apartment was spotless upon my return, the dogs were bathed, lightening fixtures were purchased for the new apartment and all the shopping for the week had been completed. I was very impressed.

I happily relaxed at home last night, basking in the calm, when, of course, that calm was shattered. Husband and I ran out to buy a new dishwasher for the new apartment and upon our return, we realized that the dogs had unzipped my suitcase and eaten the chocolate and chocolate cookies which I had brought back from Argentina. Yes, unzipped a suitcase, taken the plastic wrapping off of everything and eaten all the food, carefully avoiding any tinfoil and paper. Grrr.

We sniffed the dogs and from the smell, determined that Tiki was the culprit and promptly induced vomiting. Gross. Glad we are moving from the backyard. But then, an hour later, Cody suddenly vomited on the carpet. Apparently Tiki did not act alone.

Since then, both dogs have been sick and acting off. Cody has diarrhea and Tiki was high on chocolate and kept us up all night. And me? I find myself wistfully thinking of heading back on another trip with Mother and Sister for a week….

2008-02-15T06:15:00.000-08:00

FROM ARGENTINA

So I am sitting in a hotel in Pategonia, waiting for a car which will take me to the airport so I can explore the glacier and thought I would take advantage of how the hotel has seemingly forgotten to charge for internet access in order to write a quick post. Of course, as this is a Spanish keyboard, there are certain to be spelling and punctuation errors (even more than usual!) but you will have to bear with me on that front.

Being in Patagonia is like waking through an episode of Planet Earth. I was inches from Penguins, feet from Sea Elephants (no need to get to close to something that weights almost a ton at birth!), and bobbing in a boat right next to Sea Lions. It is really unbelievable and when I can upload some photos, I will post some.

The interesting thing also is that is is really warm. Somehow, I has it in my head that being so far south it would be cold, but it is beach weather and smarter people than I, meaning those who packed weather appropriate clothing, see to be taking full advantage. And, while I had no idea what to expect, I certainly did not expect desert-like conditions. (I learned on this trip that to be a desert, a region must recieve 5 inches or less of rain, but this area recieved 7 inches annually so it just misses the cutoff. You could have fooled me though - it is hot and dry and dusty!)

Mother, Sister and I have been having a blast on our girls-only vacation and laughing pretty much non-stop. I have even recovered from the flight from NY where I sat next to a 2-year old child who did not just cry for the 11 hour flight, but actually screamed. I debated various tactics from smothering the child to slipping an ambien into her bottle, but both would have required me getting even closer than I already was to the loudest being on the planet. And all this on an overnight flight!

Ooops, so much to tell but the car is here and waiting. I am off to the next destination before heading home and will post more (and more coherently) when I am back.

And to Husband - on the off chance you are reading this - I miss you so much and can´t wait to see you. Thanks for looking after the dogs. You are a trooper for everything you handled this week.

2008-01-31T10:32:00.000-08:00

AT LEAST *I* AM TIRED

There are some people whose opinions I respect as gospel and follow blindly. One of these people is JG. She is my doggie –guru and the person to whom I bring my dog-related issues. Plus, in addition to starting NYC Shiba Rescue and knowing pretty much everything there is to know about Shiba Inus, she is a good person and always willing to share knowledge and a laugh.

So, when I complained to her that Tiki and Cody (aka Double Trouble) were destroying my home when I was gone, she reminded me of an important theory in dog training: Better behavior through exhaustion. If the dogs were tired from playing, they would not have the energy to destroy my home. This was perfect. I did not want to crate them during the day because Cody cries all day if crated and annoys my neighbors when we do that, but I also was not entirely sure which dog was the culprit. I suspect Tiki ate my shoes and earmuffs, but I blame Cody for eating all the English muffins off the counter top.

Husband and I started getting up 30 minutes early on days when the dogs were not in day care and bringing them to the dog run so they can play off leash for a while and get good and tired before we leave for work. This in itself can be a tricky process because there are some dogs that Tiki just does not like, and if they are in the run when we get there, I do not feel comfortable going inside (actually, I am about as fond of the owner as Tiki is of the dog so I am happy to avoid contact). But 99% of the time, we get there first and then the mean dog/owner even come so it works out fine. Husband tosses a ball for Tiki while Cody attempts to climb trees to get at the squirrels playing overhead. Thirty minutes later, we head home and the dogs pretty much sleep the rest of the day. I think all four of us really enjoy the outing.

So today, in an attempt to make my 9am conference call, we got up even earlier than normal and headed to the run. As we rounded the corner, I noticed it was empty.

“Wow,” I commented to Husband, “We even beat the guy with the cigarette and loud dog.”

We agreed that we were thrilled to be the only ones since we could run and throw balls without worrying about the reactions of other dogs and jogged up to the gates. Locked. No wonder the run was empty. Tiki pawed at the gate and Cody looked at me sadly.

“We could lift them up and jump the fence,” Husband suggested.

I thought about it, but what if the gate was locked because there was a dangerous condition at the run, like rat poison or something. So we decided to do for a long walk instead. We started walking around the Museum of Natural History. Tiki, out of boredom or whatever, started to jump over the 12 inch iron borders that surround the trees and I developed an idea.

We ran full speed down 77th Street as close to the trees as possible.

“Jump!” I would yell just before each little fence. We pretended it was an agility class and were having a blast until Tiki ran on the wrong side of the tree and forced me to stop short, skidding in the leaves on my knees, a bag of dog poop in my hand. Husband helped me up, made sure I was okay (and clean!), and I continued along my way, running (slightly slower) and having Tiki jump.

When the trees stopped having the borders, Husband took both dogs and ran full speed down the rest of the block and then turned and came back to me. When the dogs reach me, they jumped on me and gave kisses to my face. Then, we walked home (and got there about 30 minutes later, or just about the time we would have had the run not been locked) and both doggies passed out on the couch while Husband and I got ready for work.

So, hopefully the doggies were tired enough to sleep today after our walk. I know I am…

2008-01-28T13:58:00.000-08:00

WOW. LIFE IS GOOD.

One of my very first ever posts was about SWCNBN’s wedding and how one of my most constant wishes was that my cousin M could marry L, despite the fact that both are men. Saturday night, I got to be part of that celebration. The entire family was there and we all celebrated, danced, laughed and had a fantastic time – really, how can you not love an event with a chocolate fountain???. It was an amazing celebration and the sheer joy of everyone inspired me to come out of vacation and start blogging again. Somehow, it seems as though the blog has come full circle or something.,,,

These last few weeks have seen a transformation in me as well. My energy has returned and my appetite is back with a vengeance. (Luckily for my waist-line, I am craving berries and bananas and not chocolate and pasta) Plus, I started pre-natal yoga, made a new friend in the class and actually got a client for my dog training business. A regular, steady client who is going to pay me. Sure, it’s only one client, but that’s how things start… Nine more to go and I will make more than I make as an attorney.

The apartment renovations have started as well and seem to be moving at a nice clip – we are going shopping with the contractor next weekend and already picked out paint colors for the entire place. Move-in date is Feb. 29th and except for the fact that our bathroom won’t be finished due to permit complications with the City, everything else should be done.

Plus, I’ve gotten zen about Evil partner. I am going on maternity leave in less than 5 months. I expect that Evil Partner will ask the firm to hire someone to replace me when I am gone and when I am ready to return, they will not want me back. I will then get a sweet severance package and either go back to my old job (which I loved on many levels) in a better position or really concentrate on my dog training business. Or maybe do a mix of both. The thing is, I hate sitting still and get energy from juggling a million balls in the air. I think that in some perverse way, having a newborn will add to this.

But, the most immediately exciting news is that I am heading on vacation for a week with some girls. And, my doctor is going to write a note that, due to my pregnancy, I need a bulkhead seat in order to avoid leg clots. Free trip, free upgrade and cool company: I could not be more excited.

And, maybe it’s the pregnancy or the impending trip or M&L’s wedding, but I feel like things are really falling into place. But either way, it certainly helps that Evil Partner is on vacation for the next week and, for the next few days, even work will be pleasant….

2008-01-11T11:09:00.001-08:00

ON A BLOGGING VACATION

Wow, it’s been a little while since I have had time to sit down and write. Between Evil Partner and his ridiculous assignments, dealing with trying to get renovations started on the new apartment, launching the very beginnings of a dog training business and just being plain old exhausted from the pregnancy, blogging has fallen off the priority list.

I am actually too busy to really write more right now, except for this assurance that as soon as my energy returns, so will my blogging.

2007-12-31T07:47:00.000-08:00

YEAR OF ALDULTHOOD

Sometimes you can feel that a certain year will be different than the last. I am pretty confident that 2008 will be one of those years. Photogenic Wife mentioned to me on Saturday night that in the Chinese Calendar, we are coming upon the Year of the Rat. In the Farf Calendar, I am entering the Year of Adulthood.

Sure, people will argue that at 32, I have been an adult for some time. After all, I am married, have a career and, at least in theory, am responsible for my own life (as well as the lives of two doggies). But I never really felt like a grown-up before. I still sleep with my blankie (named Bubbe – although I have no clue why) and a teddy bear (named Buddy Bear), I sing childhood songs like “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” and “I have 6 pence” when I am in the shower, and my favorite television shows run along the lines of SpongeBob SquarePants.

This coming year is forcing me to realize that despite some childish behavior, I am solidly in the adult-world. First of all, I am now a homeowner. And, while it is a co-op, I still need to deal with things that a year ago seemed ridiculously beyond my ability: I hired a contractor, budgeted for a mortgage and renovations, and worried about how to cover rent and mortgage while waiting for renovations to be completed.

Then, there is my job situation. Evil Partner and I continue to do battle, but there is not much longer I can deal with his lies and every time I prove he lied about something, I lose a little more of my desire to work someplace where my boss and I hate each other. So I am thinking about changing jobs, but its not so easy this time. Unlike before, I need to make a certain amount of money (see above paragraph) and I would really like to work with good people in an interesting field. Sigh. See, adult issues…

And then finally, there is the news my mother was unable to keep to herself and this blabbed a day early – Husband and I are having a baby in late June/early July of 2008. Wow, if the job situation and new apartment did not make me an adult, this definitely does. Luckily, our apartment has two bedrooms so we have not outgrown an apartment before even moving in, but this whole baby thing necessarily means major life changes – and not just being tied to home. Husband and I are responsible for another person. It’s not like with the dogs where if we are home an hour late, the worst that happens is they pee on the floor. Nope, we are accountable to someone who will be totally helpless and dependent on us (for a little while at least) and who can (eventually) call us out on our flaws and imperfections.

So, here I am about to enter 2008 and become, in all senses of the word, an adult. But hopefully I can do so without leaving some of my favorite childish behaviors aside. Sorry Husband but Bubbe and Buddy Bear stay around even when my job-hopping days are over.

2007-12-24T07:52:00.000-08:00

CODY'S BIRTHDAY ADVENTURE

Some of you have met Cody and readers of this blog know him as the dog that Husband and I adopted from NYC Shiba Rescue as a brother for Tiki the Wonder Dog. Cody’s middle name is Houdini, since he has the uncanny ability to escape from any situation. He can flatten his body and if his head can fit through something, the rest of his body easily follows. Knowing this, we are very careful about the situations to which Cody is exposed. For example, while both Tiki and Cody can jump a 5 foot fence in a single bound, Tiki respects barriers in a way that Cody does not. So, as a result, the dogs rarely go to the dog run anymore – its just too stressful wondering if you will have to chase Cody through Manhattan.

This weekend though, we took both dogs to the Catskills to visit Husband’s aunt. The plan was to spend the weekend walking the dogs through the snow covered mountains and getting some exercise and relaxation. Unfortunately, both Husband and I came down with colds and spent most of the weekend napping.

We were taking just such a nap on Saturday afternoon (Cody’s second birthday) and both dogs were happily napping on the bed with us. The door to the bedroom was cracked open so that the warmth from downstairs permeated the room and all four of us were completely content. A perfect birthday snooze.

Suddenly, we were awoken by a yell that the dogs got out of the house. We were up and dressed in a flash and outside calling the dogs. These are city dogs that are never off leash and have pretty poor recall. Plus, the snow had a thin coating of ice so that the 30-pound dogs could easily walk on it, but as adult humans weighting slightly more than 30 pounds, we fell through into knee deep snow. There was no way to chance them through the woods on foot so Husband got in the car and followed along the roads while I waited in the hopes that the dogs would circle back. The only saving grace was that while neighbors are few and far between, so are cars so we were not concerned about a dog getting on the road – in fact, we would have preferred it.

A bark. A call from Husband and Tiki was in the car. While the word “come” does not entice Tiki at all, the call of “Do you want some Cheese?” Had both dogs running to Husband. Cody wriggled away but Tiki was caught and locked in the car. Cody came circling back. I tried every dog trainer trick I know. I did an Emergency Stop. No luck. I tried running away from Cody in the hopes he would chase me. Nope. I also tried falling (well, it was slippery so I didn’t really have to try that hard) in the hopes that Cody would come to investigate. Nothing.

Husband jumped out of the car and chased Cody on foot. Cody darted in and out of bushes, wagging his tail and enjoying his game. Husband fell into the snow in defeat. I was crying. Husband was swearing. We were devastated. For a brief moment, I envisioned life back with just Tiki. With no doggie that would spoon me while I was napping on the couch, not being awoken by kisses at exactly 7am daily and walks without having to be ever-vigilant about potential food sources that a dog would try and eat (that includes hot dogs out of the hands of children who pass too close) – life suddenly seemed bleak. Unacceptable.

Then, miraculously, a neighbor came out and asked if we had lost a child. I explained we had lost a dog and, hoping that the neighbor would have dog treats, I asked if he had a dog.

“No,” said Neighbor. “I have a cat.”

“Cat?” I suddenly got excited. “Do you have a fish-based cat food?” Cody loves fish and I was hoping this would lure him to us.

Neighbor disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a Tupperware container of dry cat food.

“Cody,” I called sweetly. “Do you want some din-din?” I shook the food as extra enticement. Suddenly, Cody ran over, eager for the treats in the bowl. I slipped the leash on his and hugged him. Cody looked at me like I was insane. After all, he had just had the best birthday fun imaginable. And, having my dog safe, well that answered every thing I would have wished Cody on his birthday anyway.

We got the dogs back, gave them extra treats and rawhide bones and refused to let them out of our sight the rest of the day. Cody may have had the best 2^nd birthday he could imagine, but in doing so, he took at least 2 years off my life.

2007-12-17T13:05:00.000-08:00

THE COST OF FRIENDSHIP

Sorry for the delay in posting but it’s been a crazy week: We are closing on Wednesday and I was sick for two days. Blah.

Last week Mara, Justin and their adorable baby Adena came from London and stayed with me and Husband for a week. We had been looking forward to their visit for a long time and were bummed that on the day they arrived at our place, we had a dinner with Father’s law firm to attend and could not be home. No big deal though as we left a spare key with Suzanne and then left the party early in order to run home and spend more time with our friends from across the pond.

When we got home there were hugs and kisses all around (as well as a peek into the spare bedroom to gaze adoringly at the sleeping baby) and we settled in the catch up.

“Umm, we are buying you a new television,” Mara started. For a brief second, I was totally offended. Our main television is less than a year old (46” LCD flat screen) and the thing Husband would save first in case of fire – even before me and the dogs – on the theory that everything else important to him has legs and can potentially save itself. The television in the guest room will likely not move with us and is perfectly adequate for its purposes.

“We broke the TV,” Mara continued.

“Oh,” replied Husband. “No, the buttons on the remote are totally confusing but I can fix it.”

“No, it’s really broken.” Justin insisted. “Mara tossed me a sippy cup and it hit the television and now it’s broken.” (By the way, he said this is in a most adorable Kiwi accent. I can seriously listen to him talk all day.)

We turned on the television, mostly because we could not believe that a plastic sippy cup could break a TV, but sure enough there was no picture and a spider-shaped crack was visible in the bottom center of the screen.

“Whatever,” Husband said. “If it can’t be repaired we will figure something out. Don’t worry.”

Mara was shocked. She offered to leave and go somewhere else. Why would we kick her out? And no way we were letting Adena leave – she is so cute and happy that the only thing keeping us from kidnapping her was the potential jail time. So the TV broke. Big deal. It’s replaceable. (And for the record, the new television arrived in less than a week. Thank you Mara and Justin!) We felt awful. They were staying with us to save money and now they have to buy a television. Really, there were contests over which party felt worse about the whole thing, but within a few minutes, it was also something to joke about.

“We’re leaving for work – there is a list of things we need broken on the coffee table!” Hahaha. I am still cracking up over that one.

But the thing is, never for one second would such a wonderful friendship have ended over something like a television set. In fact, I thought it would end over earrings.

See, Mara lent me the pearl earrings she wore on her wedding day for me to wear on mine. I did not wear them, but instead put them away for safekeeping. Then, I forgot about them. I attempted to return them when I was in London, but returned the wrong earrings. So, I attempted to give Mara a different pair when she was in town, but those were also the wrong ones. (No worries Mara, I have 5 more pairs and one is bound to be yours!) By all rights, she should hate me. But she doesn’t.

Because in the end, real friends deal with the stuff life throws at you and televisions and earrings are not as important as people you can call when you are having a 2am anxiety attack over something stupid.

I have another friend who does not seem to understand this concept. I am not sure where we went wrong, but we used to be incredibly close. But for a month now, she has made a point of avoiding me. So today, despite many promised to myself, I reached out via email. I received back the following: “I am taking space....It has been too many excuses and too many hurt comments”

I have no idea what excuses/comments she is talking about. But that is the kind of person she is. She gives people the silent treatment when she is mad so the simple things escalate until they become unbearable to her. That is sad. A small hurt, such as a broken television or misplaced earring is not a friendship ender and real friends are able to see past the little things to the big picture. I will miss her, but I have been mourning her silence for the last month and can’t continue to do so. I will not contact her again. Instead, I will continue to live as I have and, as I do with all my friends, welcome her back when she is ready.

In the meantime, it’s nice to know who I can count on when I need a 2am friend or that ugly poster (adored by Husband) in our spare room broken.

2007-12-11T11:29:00.001-08:00

MID-WINTER AND MID-WEEK BLAH

Thusday was Husband’s birthday. We headed up to Boston for a long weekend so his birthday dinner ended up being at the Chili’s in Hamden. I know. He can thank me for the gourmet meal later. Actually though, the whole weekend in Boston (second annual) is a birthday celebration for Husband, topped off with a Patriots game on Sunday before heading home. Really fun weekend and like last year, Photogenic Friends were there for the whole thing.

When we got up on Friday, we really meant to sightsee around Boston. All of us have a strong interest in American history and I wanted to see the site of the Boston Tea Party and Photogenic Wife wanted to see Paul Revere’s house. Instead, as we walked from the hotel to the harbor, we all got chilly and decided to duck into a store near Quincy Market. Then we went into another store. Before I knew it, we had done the entire length of Newbury Street and the idea of sightseeing was never again mentioned. But on the bright side, anything under $175 was tax free, so that is one more reason to love my new shoes, sweater, bra (seriously the most comfortable one I have ever owned), underwear, and sunglasses. Plus, Photogenic Wife made us spa appointments for Sunday morning so it was an all around awesome time.

But then, reality set in and on Monday we were all back at work. Maybe it’s the time of year, maybe it’s the fact that the sellers are being really annoying about setting a closing date*, or maybe its because I have literally never been so tired in my life, but I really don’t feel like working. I seriously want nothing more than to lay on my couch and watch the week’s worth of television saved on the DVR. Oh, and maybe nap.

And the thing is, I have a major project right now at the office and I can’t motivate to even start it. Or think about it. Really pathetic, I know. So, in an effort at procrastination, I have come up with every other possible thing I can do. I dealt with a pet insurance bill (Sorry Husband, the charge is not covered), called back a contractor, made a doctor’s appointment and various other things. So it’s not like the day is a total waste.

And there is my phone ringing and my boss on speaker asking me the status of this project, so off I go to work on it. Can’t wait for 8pm when I can head home…

* While writing this post, the seller’s offered December 19th as a closing date so keep your fingers crossed!

2007-12-04T14:02:00.001-08:00

CLOSING

December is going to be an exciting month this year. Hanukkah starts tonight and Husband’s birthday is Thursday. We are heading to Boston for the weekend to see the Patriots play the Steelers on Sunday and spend some quality time with Boston-based cousin, two of whom will be celebrating birthdays while we are there. It is also Cody (the dog’s) first birthday as a member of our family. But, all of that aside, it is also the month where we will finally close on our new apartment. Yup, after months of sweat (its hot going from open house to open house in the summer), tears (you try getting your credit record cleaned of your sister’s spending habits) and blood (well, there were several blisters from walking to all those apartments and one bled) we will finally be the proud owners of shares in a corporation, which will allow us to reside in a building near Riverside Park. Yippeee!

Yes, you read that right. The long-awaited closing is expected to be in the next couple weeks. Then we can get the contractor in and the fun begins! I am so excited…

2007-11-27T08:39:00.000-08:00

SOMETIMES, THE FIRST TIME IS JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER TIME

I have recently been doing much self-censoring on this site. Part of it is that I have been tempted to write things that, while they may be true right now, are certainly not true over all and some things can’t be taken back. Part of it is also that I have suddenly developed a new-found sense of privacy and, as such, my posts have suffered in that they are less of me and more generic.

And all this is why I read Suzanne’s post about collecting stories about a woman’s first period with such amusement. There is nothing generic about first period stories and so many women have great stories to tell about, if not their first period, at least a pretty eventful menstruation experience. Well, so many women - except for me.

Sure, I read “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret” just like most other pre-teen girls of my generation and I was a little jealous when all my friends got their periods first. But, not too jealous since it seemed more of an inconvenience than anything else. For example, there was Sarah from camp who was being raised by a single father. She got her period at camp and wrote to her dad asking for a box of pads. Within a week, a care package arrived filled with 20 legal size note-pads. Then there was Lea who got her first period while on vacation with my family and refused to use to pool in Las Vegas since she did not know how to use a tampon.

Maybe for me, because I did not get my period until my mid-teens, it was a non-event. In fact, the only reason I remember it at all was because I expected more fanfare and was disappointed. After all, Sister had already had her period for years and it’s not like I did not have tons of aunts and female cousins. So, when I looked in my underwear and saw blood, I did not panic, I simply went into the bathroom, read the instructions about how to insert a tampon and rejoined the party that was going on in my parent’s backyard. My mother’s response to being told was simply, “Ok, just remembers to change your tampons regularly.” That was it. No fanfare and no great story.

In fact, it was the same annoyance for me it seemed to be for other friends. Every month, around my period, I would develop debilitating stomach pains, which lasted until a doctor put me on birth control pills. I hated having to run to the bathroom to change tampons, even when I did not need to pee and having my period never made me feel “more like a woman” than before.

So, I am curious to see the stories that Suzanne collects, but I am also curious to know if my experience is the norm or if it is more common for a woman’s first period to be some life-changing event. I would be happy to hear other’s thoughts on the subject.

2007-11-26T12:15:00.000-08:00

A LITTLE EXCHANGE OFFERED

I have a confession to make. I did not go shopping at all on Friday, and on Saturday, the only time I entered a store was to exchange a book that, through some crazy printing error, went from page 192 back to page 1. In fact, with the exception of Mother and Brother, all my holiday shopping is done and both Husband (12/6) and Sister (1/4) have their birthday presents purchased. Even better, I know exactly what I am getting Mother and Brother and just have to run out and pick it up. In fact, I consider Brother’s shopping done since he is going to send me a link so I can order his gift on-line.

How did I suddenly become so organized? No, it was not some weird alternate personality taking control; it was simply that I reduced my “buy for” list.

This year the list of holiday gifts is pared down to the core folks who I know I will either see over the holidays, or with whom I routinely exchange gifts. I am not purchasing any “emergency” gifts just in case an unexpected person shows up with a present.

In fact, with the exception of Sister’s presents (one of which is coming from Thailand, one from Ghana and one from Brazil for Hanukkah, belated housewarming and birthday respectively) all of the gifts are already in my office waiting to be wrapped.

There is something really nice about the holiday shopping being completed. It made Thanksgiving more relaxing because I did not feel any pressure to run out over the weekend and go shopping. In fact, while millions of Americans were hitting the malls on Friday, I spent the day wrapped in a blanket, relaxing on the couch in Husband’s parents’ family room, watching Family Feud reruns and trying to digest the two Thanksgiving meals I had consumed the day before.

The meals this year were wonderful. Meme’s sweet potatoes were the best they had ever been, the turkeys at both homes were cooked to perfection and you have never seen such an array of desserts as there was at both my family and Husband’s family celebrations.

And yet, I have a small complaint. Minor really when you consider how great everything tasted: Mother did not make an apple pie. She bought one. And, while I love her homemade pies, I can not stand the taste of a store-bought one.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the apple pie. Cousin Ado and I love it so much that we routinely steal a pie and hide somewhere and eat it with our hands. Mother even makes an extra pie so that there is a pie to steal, so it’s not a secret that I love this pie. Now, Mother claimed that because her arm is in a cast, she is unable to peel and slice apples for the pies, yet she made everything else as usual and without issue. So why no pie? Is it because Ado was with T’s family this year? And, if the only reason for not making the pie was her injured arm, then why not ask me to slice and peel apples? Was she secretly afraid I would do a better job?

Hmmm, maybe there is an underlying reason why her gift has not been purchased. We should do a trade: pie for Hanukkah gift. And in that case, my holiday shopping is complete, at least until I see a homemade apple pie show up on my counter.

2007-11-20T13:19:00.000-08:00

NOW FOR THE FUN

It was so anti-climatic that I forgot to tell anyone, but Husband and I were approved by the Co-Op Board and now can close on our new apartment. So the fun begins.

A few months ago, when we were putting together the Board package and trying to obtain a mortgage, I announced that I did not want to be involved under it was time to pick paint colors. Well, that time is upon us and I am excited. I called two contractors and am going to set up times for estimates. I know exactly what I want and just need the contractor to make sure I don’t get carried away and spend more than I mean to spend. Hopefully, one of these guys will work out and then I can get down to the fun of decorating.

I love that the apartment stuff is basically behind us – now we just have the closing left and that should be easy since all the other work is done and the sellers have already moved – so that I can begin the holidays relatively stress free. Most of my shopping is done as well. I only have to buy for Mother, Father and Brother (the hard people on my list since they all have pretty much everything they want) and my Secret Santa recipient at work.

My office has a tradition where we all draw a name from a bowl and then at the holiday party each person is presented with a gift (under $20) and no one knows who the gift was from. I sort of like it in theory but the pressure is terrible. I have a new person and I don’t know much about them other than he keeps kosher, and is getting married in August to a Rabbi. That’s all I got. What the heck to get him? Does he even drink? Will a bottle of wine be wasted? Plus, I am always disappointed with my gift. Last year I got champagne, but anyone who knows me would know I hate all carbonated beverages. It was probably a re-gift. I know I re-gifted it to someone else….

Maybe this year my Secret Santa will buy me a new couch. Too bad that is going to be slightly over the $20 cap.

2007-11-14T12:46:00.001-08:00

INSTEAD OF SPLITTING THE BABY, KING SOLOMON SHOULD HAVE RECOMMENDED ALTERNATE WEEKENDS

Growing up, Thanksgiving was always my most favorite holiday. Besides the oodles and oodles of food, it was a chance to see my cousins and for the entire family – sometimes close to 40 of us – get together and spend some time together.

When I met Husband, he told me that Thanksgiving was one of his most favorite holidays as well. His mom cooks dinner for everyone and his entire family - there are 12 of them – get together for some quality time.

And thus began the holiday split. My family eats dinner around 2pm so we spend Wednesday night at my parents house, wake up there Thursday morning and around 4:30pm, we say good-bye to everyone and drive 45 minutes to Husband’s parents’ house where we have a second dinner and spend the night. Then we spend all of Friday and most of Saturday with Husband’s family, before heading back to have dinner on Saturday night with the folks in my family who were unable to make Thanksgiving on Thursday and drive back to NY with my Dad on Sunday. Sound exhausting? It is.

Neither Husband nor I were very happy with this arrangement. We both felt we did not get to spend enough time at either house and felt torn between the two. I love my in-laws and want to see them as much as possible, but I also want to see my cousins, aunts, and various family friends that spend Thanksgiving with us.

So, this year, we got a bright idea. Why were we schlepping between houses? Why weren’t we alternating? (Yes, neither of us are very smart since it took us almost 5 years to come up with this plan). So, we announced that this year is the last year we will be spending time in both houses. Next year, we will pick a house for Thanksgiving and the other family will get us the following year. We will still spend time with both families over the extended weekend, but the actual day of Thanksgiving will no longer be split. Which family goes first? Maybe we will flip a coin. Maybe we will coordinate so that we overlap holidays with my cousin Ado, who also needs to alternate with his partner’s family. I am not really so concerned about that right now.

And, if anyone asks me what I am thankful for this year, it is that next year (and every following year) should be a much more relaxing holiday…

2007-11-12T11:08:00.000-08:00

GROWING UP

On Saturday evening, Husband and I had dinner with his friend PTG and PTG’s fiancé. Turns out, he met a woman the night of his going away party (where we were sending him off to live in Denver), fell in love, got engaged and had dinner with us to announce that he was moving back to NYC. I am totally psyched at this news. It’s good for Husband, who missed his friend terribly, and good for me, who liked the cool places that PTG would find for us to hang out.

So, on Saturday night we all had dinner at a Latin-fusion restaurant by my apartment. Dinner was at 7pm and everyone arrived on time. We enjoyed some drinks (although only a couple) and dinner was over by 8:45pm. We laughed and talked about the home buying process that each couple is currently undergoing. Then, after dinner, Husband and I hailed a cab from PTG and his fiancé and began to walk the 5 blocks home.

Husband turned to me and said, “I loved dinner tonight. For the first time in my life, I feel like an adult and am excited for the prospect.” At that moment, we heard a sound like a bird squawking and turned toward where the sound was coming from. It was PTG driving past us in his taxi, his head out the window, yelling. “How much for your woman,” PTG yelled as he whizzed passed.

We laughed, not quite as grown up as we felt a few seconds prior.

2007-11-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

FACING FEARS

There is an old joke about people’s number one fear being public speaking and their number two fear being death. The joke goes something like this: At a funeral, more people would rather be the person in the casket than the person giving the eulogy. I am definitely more scared of death than I am of public speaking (Hello? I am a litigator! My entire job involves public speaking).

My comfort with public speaking can actually be traced to one particular moment in third grade. I was new in school and our class was putting on The Wizard of Oz for the entire school. I was cast as the Wicked Witch of the West. At the time, I thought it was because I was a wonderful actress, but I have since figured out that it is the only part in the entire show without any signing, and despite the accolades I give myself while signing in the shower, it turns out that the general public does not share my appreciation of my own voice. Anyway, I was terrified to say my lines loudly and went through rehearsals in barely a whisper. It was so bad that the teacher actually spoke to my parents about it. So, my Dad (who is also a litigator and one of the best public speakers I have ever heard) took me to a park and had me stand on a tree stump. He hid behind a bush where I could not see him and fed me my lines.

I had to yell all my lines in order for him to hear me. I was totally embarrassed and confessed my fear of public speaking to my father. His response was simply to remind me that if someone walked by and saw me, all they saw was a cute 8-year old reciting lines from a play. If someone walked by and saw him, they saw a 30-something man yelling lines from a children’s play and really, which one of us should be embarrassed? I took it to heart and went on to be a smashing success in the Wizard of Oz and never had a problem speaking in public again.

Unfortunately, while I never developed a real phobia of speaking in public, I did develop another debilitating phobia. I am terrified of needles. Sure, I know what you are thinking – no one likes needles. Nope this goes beyond that. I am more scared of needles that I am of dying. Don’t believe me? Let me tell you a little story…

In early 2002 or thereabouts, I was walking down Columbus Avenue in Manhattan when suddenly everything went black. I woke up a second later on the ground surrounded by strangers. Humiliated, I assured everyone I was fine and went on my merry way. A few days later it happened again. And then again a few days later. This time, I was worried and contacted the very cute and very capable Dr. Kendler, who immediately performed an EKG and, when he did not like the results of the EKG, sent me to a local hospital for tests.

The test involved running on a treadmill to see if I would faint. I readily agreed until the doctor at the hospital explained that I needed to have an IV in my arm for him to perform the test. Apparently, if/when I fainted, the medical staff needed the ability to quickly administer medication. I refused the IV, explaining that if I had an IV, I would faint anyway and be unable to run on the treadmill. The doctor was insistent but so was I. No IV. Finally, the doctor looked at me and used what I believe had been his ultimate manipulation tool, “You could die without this test,” he said. “If there is a problem with your heart and we don’t fix it, you may not live.”

I listened to the doctor. I really do not want to die anytime in the near future. But, I also did not want to have an IV. Plus, the doctor said I could die and that I may not live. He did not know the ultimate outcome. On the other hand, if I took the test, I would definitely have an IV. I rejected the test, the doctor yelled at me, and 5+ years later, I am perfectly healthy and have not had any fainting spells.

So I think it is clear that on my list of fears, needles rank higher than death.

Which leads me to day. I needed a flu shot. I have never previously had a flu shot (see fear of needles, above) and always preferred to risk getting the flu (which I only may get) to the definite outcome of a needle. But, my doctor was adamant that given my medical history and the seriousness of the strain that is expected to hit this year, I get a flu shot. He would not even argue with me about it (although, I have to say, if you are a doctor and feel I need a shot, it is best not to give me an alternative). I was terrified and walked into the office today knowing full well what was coming. And so I called Husband.

And, if I ever complained about Husband, I take it all back now. He came with me to the doctor, held my hand during the flu shot and even distracted me with logistical questions about this evening’s plans. And, even though Husband is squeamish about doctor’s offices, he did not show it.

Maybe a few more of these sessions at the doctors and my fear of needles will go the way of my old fear of public speaking. I certainly hope so.

2007-10-31T13:16:00.001-07:00

EVEN BLOGGING IS MORE EFFORT THAN I FEEL LIKE EXPENDING

I am completely unmotivated to do any real work today. I have stuff piling up on me and since Evil Partner is always on my back, I better do an amazing job, and yet I have zero interest today. Really, all I want to do is curl up on my couch with a book and relax. Maybe nap.

Part of my lack of motivation is easily attributable to exhaustion. I am just tired and really should get more sleep. But part of it is just that I can’t muster the strength to care today. I want to eat Halloween candy and flip though US Weekly. That book mentioned a second ago could be too much effort. The only saving grace is that hopefully there will not be a staff meeting tonight since most people in my office have kids and will race home to take them trick-or-treating.

Even tonight I am not going to get my much needed rest. First of all, I am assisting in a dog training class tonight and even if I don’t want to help out, I need to continue working in the program in order to earn my dogs their 75% discount for doggie day care.

Sigh. In the time it took me to write this, I was just given two more assignments. Grrr. I can’t wait for the Thanksgiving break. Seriously, I have way more important things on my mind than work – like how to eat another Oreo without gaining any additional calories.

2007-10-29T09:31:00.001-07:00

PIZZA TASTES EVEN BETTER WHEN EATEN IN SECRET WITH SISTER

I love traveling with Sister. We have so much fun. Last weekend, we drove to DC and spent 4+ hours in the car each way, belting out show tunes at the top of our lungs and trying to guess where on the map we were after we past the leaving NJ sign, but before we saw the Welcome to PA sign. (Seriously, is it the black line on the map? Are we in no-man’s land?)

This weekend, we headed to a spa in the Pocono Mountains for a well-deserved “Sister Weekend.” We took Pilates and Belly-Dancing classes, had massages, facials and reflexology and basically relaxed all weekend.

The best thing about the weekend is that Sister and I have the same approach to traveling. Traffic on the way down? That just means there is time for Disc 2 of Phantom of the Opera. Spa food leaving you wanting more? Sneak out to a local pizza palor.

Yes, you read that right. The food at the spa was delicious, but they limited us to 950 calories each. Ummm, while I am all about losing weight, I really need at least 1200 calories a day. Especially if I am doing Pilates and Belly Dancing. We were starving. So, after lunch, while everyone else went to a lecture about nutrition and longevity, Sister and I snuck into the car and devoured a pizza and gigantic helping of baked ziti.

Of course, we were not really hungry come dinner time and could not finish our food. When asked, we simply told everyone that the portion control method really spoke to us and we were no longer going to eat everything just because it was on our plate. We were praised for our dedication to the program and had a good laugh. Who says cheaters never win?

2007-10-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

I HATE ELLEN DEGENERES

I am not sure why people who are celebrities seem to think that they are above the law. Sure, they get away with more then someone like me, but you would think that they would be pleasantly surprised when catching a lucky break, as opposed to shocked and outraged at being forced to follow the rules.

In this case, I am taking about Ellen Degeneres and her deplorable behavior toward a rescue dog from Mutts and Moms.

I am totally siding with the rescue group. Ellen Degeneres was wrong. I used to like her but have become so upset over Ellen’s behavior that I am making a public vow to never watch her shows (either live or televised) again. Further, I have since thrown away my signed Ellen Degeneres poster, from way back in 1994 when she performed at my college.

For those of you unfamiliar with the controversy, here it is in a nutshell from Access Hollywood:

The talk show hostess and her partner Portia de Rossi adopted Iggy, a Brussels Griffon mix, on Sept. 20. But when things didn’t work out, DeGeneres gave the dog to her hairdresser.

In doing so, DeGeneres violated an agreement with the Mutts and Moms dog rescue agency by not informing them of the handoff.

When the agency called DeGeneres to ask about Iggy, she said she found another home for the dog. The agency sent a representative to the hairdresser’s home Sunday and took the dog away.

DeGeneres went public about the situation Monday while taping an episode of her show to air Tuesday. She admitted she didn’t read all the paperwork involving the adoption.

Ummm, exactly. She did not read the paperwork.

I am extremely involved in the rescue community. I help to run a rescue group dedicated to re-homing Shiba Inus. I have volunteered at shelters and recently, have been working on socialization and training with rescue dogs, in order to make them more adoptable. So, while not an expert, I do know something about the subject.

And, here is what I do know: NYC Shiba Rescue (and other similar groups) all spend HOURS trying to match the right dog with the right family. We interview families, visit their homes, and otherwise make every attempt to ensure both the humans and the dogs will be happy together. We turn down people who do not meet our critera for a good home. We argue among ourselves about what the best match is and will not adopt out a dog until all this happens. And for this reason, we have adoption agreements.

Since our goal is to have to dog matched with the perfect home – and to make sure we can keep tabs to ensure that the home remains perfect – there is a clause in our adoption agreement which states that if an adopter finds that at any time during the life of the dog, for any reason they can not keep the adopted dog, they will contact us immediately and we have the first right to have the dog back. You can not give the dog away. You can not sell the dog. You have to give the dog back.

Now, while it has never happened to us yet, if someone called NYC Shiba Rescue to tell us that they could not keep their dog because it was terrorizing their cat, we would offer to come get the dog immediately or to work with the adopter on training. If the adopter did not want to keep the dog but suggested another family that had fallen in love with the dog, I am pretty sure we would tell the adopter to have the potential family contact us and then we would complete the adoption process with them. See, everyone wins.

Adopting an animal is a wonderful experience. I did not think I could ever love a dog as much as Tiki until Cody came along. But, it also comes with responsibilities and upholding an adoption agreement is one of those responsibilities (as is spaying/neutering and training). While Ellen Degeneres was willing to do the former, she did not bother with the latter. Why? I am not sure but I guess it was because she just didn’t think anyone would care.

But of course Mutts and Moms, just like NYC Shiba Rescue, does care. That is why they bother to mention it in an adoption agreement.

Of course, Ellen Degeneres also complained that she spent $3,000 on the dog. But that $3,000 did not seem important when she gave the dog away. And really, not to be petty, but what percentage of her income are we talking about? I mean really.

And now, according to a quick Google search, Mutts and Moms has been forced to suspend operations. Their petfinder account is de-activated and their links no longer work. So, instead of one dog going to a home that Ellen Degeneres did not pre-approve, no dogs are being adopted out by this organization. Simply translated, dogs are languishing in shelters because Ellen Degeneres is a selfish, horrible person. (If I were Suzanne I would call her a fucking cunt and douchbag bitch, but as you know, I refrain from swearing).

So I hereby publically announce that I am no longer a fan of Ellen Degeneres. Frankly, I am sorry I was ever a fan in the first place.

2007-10-16T12:59:00.000-07:00

EVERYONE KNOWS THIS BUT ME

Clearly my goddaughter is so brilliant that she reads Suzanne’s blog. Yesterday, upon attempting to give her the best day of her young life, I made plans to take her and her brother to the NYC Children’s Museum. I was very sad to get there and discover that it is closed on Mondays.

After trying the locked door several times, because “sometimes doors are hard,” my goddaughter looked up at me accusingly and said, “Auntie Sara, you really should have called first.” I admitted she was right and asked her if she at least enjoyed the 10 block walk to the museum from my apartment.

“Can we please take a taxi home?” she sighed.

Looks like I am not the super cool babysitter I was hoping to be.

2007-10-16T12:47:00.000-07:00

IT TAKES TWO

This weekend was a lesson in parenting. Husband and I hosted my best friend from high school, her husband and their two children (the older is my most brilliant and beautiful goddaughter) for a long weekend: 1000 sq. feet , 6 people, and two dogs. It was loud and crowded and I will likely be wiping little fingerprints from countertops for a long time. And, while I adore the entire family, I was not unhappy when they left. I needed the quiet.

Generally, Husband and I spend weekends at home, catching up on reading and maybe watching a little television. We are generally quiet folks while at home (or at least our neighbors have never complained about noise) and we had no idea what was in store. First of all, children wake up really early. Even when they stay up late, they wake up early – the staying up late just means that they wake up cranky. And, they have no idea how to whisper. I am exhausted.

But, we also had a lot of fun. I will go to extraordinary lengths to hear a two year old giggle and really, there is nothing better than watching a movie on the couch with two children snuggled into your lap. And, Husband and I loved having conversations with my goddaughter (who is, as she will tell you, not just four, but four and a half!). Both kids were good natured, adorable and, we think, brilliant.

Husband and I want to have a baby and have been trying for several months without luck so far. I spoke to my friend about this (who was convinced that a weekend with her children would push back family planning by several years) and she suggested that I attend a “fertility circle” with a group of women she knows. According to my friend, they have a 100% success rate within 3 months. I have to admit, for a second I was tempted. Fertility without needles and/or drugs? I am a big believe that positive energy accomplishes many things and I was tempted to try out the fertility circle on the theory that it could not do any harm.

I was sort of worried about convincing Husband to go along with something like this and I asked my friend how other women approached their potentially skeptical partners about participating. It was at this point that my friend told me that no men were allowed. Basically, a group of women partake in a ritual and send positive energy to the woman trying to conceive. Then, her fertility increases.

Hmmm. That would make sense, but it takes two to make a baby (at least, if you are trying the old fashioned way, which we are) and we have no idea which one of us is the reason it is taking longer than we originally planned. The feminist in me is all riled about this. I can have all the positive energy in the world and be incredibly fertile, but if Husband is not, a baby is not happening (enter Stephen Colbert…sigh… ooops, I digress). So, on that basis (or until a medical doctor says it is all my issues), I am not sure that the point of the fertility circle really is. Thus, since I can’t see the point, I am not schlepping more than 2 hours in order to attend one.

Maybe while I was learning about parenting, my friend should have been learning about feminism….

2007-10-11T08:27:00.000-07:00

A BOOK OFFER

As thought I needed more proof of how lucky I am to have married Husband, he sent me the following email this morning: "In case you want to go get your boyfriend's new book at a Borders," and attached this link for a discount at Borders.

Its good to be married to someone who not only understands my unrequited love for another, but actually encourages it!

2007-10-09T07:28:00.000-07:00

ME: IN 500 WORDS OR LESS

I remember back a few (okay, more like 15) years ago, when I was applying to college. There was so much paperwork to gather, letters of recommendation to obtain and personal statements to write. Then, when I applied to law school, I had to do the entire process all over again. When I got into law school, I breathed a sigh of relief that my application days were over. It just seemed so unfair that I would be judged on the basis of some papers that really did not give a peak into who I really am.

But now, in my attempt to purchase an apartment (or rather, in NYC, shares in a corporation which will give me the right to lease a certain apartment through the co-op), I am faced with the same thing. Husband and I each needed four letters of recommendation from friends (preferably who were already co-op shareholders), current bank statements (and not the kind you can pull off-line, but actual paper statements), a personal statement and various other documents.

But, none of these reflect who I am. For example, according to my broker, neither the letters of recommendation nor the personal statement are supposed to mention dogs – and not just owning them, but I am not supposed to mention my work with NYC Shiba Rescue (made you look, Jenna!) or my classes to become a dog trainer – or politics. I also can’t mention controversial subjects like abortion, so talking about my work for Haven is out. And, while you are supposed to mention that you cheer for local sports teams, I can not mention that those teams are the Mets, Giants and Rangers. Apparently there may be an anti-dog, anti-choice person on the Board who roots for the Braves, Eagles and Devils who would then black-list me from the building.

So the letters and personal statements are just hollow and generic, which is too bad. If I were on the Board, I would much rather hear about a person who was passionate about their causes and teams (even if I disagreed with their opinions) and, as a person who is making a family dinner tonight in order to celebrate Tiki the Wonder Dog’s second birthday (happy birthday Tiki!), I would appreciate living near someone who was equally as passionate about their animal companion, even if such a companion were a rabbit or goldfish.

But, I guess this way I have a better chance of getting accepted to live in the building. Just like in applying to college and law school, when my applications made me sound serious and academically motivated, I was forced to wait until after the acceptance to be myself. So, once I am moved in, I can be the real me. But this time, I am really serious when I vow to never go through an application process again.

2007-10-04T14:07:00.000-07:00

A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITING

Several people have emailed me directly to ask me while I have not blogged very much in the last few weeks. I know. I am sorry. I had no idea that buying an apartment was so time consuming. It’s not like in the suburbs where you go into contract, hire some inspectors and wait until closing. We need a Board Package, which has to include 6 letters of reference from people who are not related and preferably owners in co-op buildings themselves. Then, we need business references. The letters can not mention the dogs or politics (pretty much the only things that define my life) and of course, they need to be vetted by the broker.

So, since my friends are lazy, I am busy writing, but instead of writing blog posts, I am writing letters on my own behalf. Board package is in on Monday and then I will resume my regular schedule…

2007-09-30T18:37:00.000-07:00

ON TO A NEW SPORT

Grrr. Seriously. What the f*ck??? Wondering what has me so riled? That would be the NY Mets. You know, the first team in MLB history to be 7 games ahead in the division standings on September 12th to lose the division and not make the play offs.

I would love to write some metaphor about life and how a fast start does not necessarily lead to success, but I am too depressed…

2007-09-29T15:03:00.000-07:00

SWEET BASEBALL

Well it’s about time. After sliding into second place and perhaps beginning the biggest collapse in Major League Baseball history, the Mets finally won a game. And Philly is currently losing in the sixth inning. Thank freaking g-d. Seriously.

I laugh because, in a slight switch of traditional gender roles, Husband cleaned the apartment so I could watch the game. But then, as I stressed over the fact that the Mets could blow it again, I made cookies in order to relieve that stress and Husband drank beer. So, not only are the Mets likely responsible for any high blood pressure, they are also responsible for Husband and I getting fat. If they make it into the playoffs, all will be forgiven though.

Actually, I made the cookies because Sister made me feel guilty. Husband and I are having a little barbeque at our place tonight (likely the last one since we are now officially in contract on the new place and hopefully moving right after the new year) and when I told Sister that I was thinking of not serving dessert because, really, no one need it, she told me she is always a little sad at the end of a party when there is nothing sweet to eat. And, since I hate serving store bought desserts, I figured I would make cookies. She better eat 10 and gain a few pounds….

Plus, Husband made burgers (with all sorts of spices), is marinating chicken, made a salad and sautéed onions as a topping for the burgers. And, he made a corn soufflé as a side. I can’t let him get all the credit if we have amazing food. It’s funny, because as much as we pretty much eschew any pretense of splitting chores down typical man and woman chores, I can’t help but get defensive when Husband does all the cooking.

I am a really good cook. I come from a long line of really good cooks. My mother and grandmother both make amazing dishes and are master bakers. I can cook a Rosh Hashanah meal for 10 and have made Passover Seders on one-day notice. But since Husband and I have been dating, he does all the cooking and I do the baking. And we are watching our weight, so it has really turned into Husband doing all the cooking and me just eating and offering to do dishes.

Why does this bother me? I can’t figure it out. Why do I care if Husband is considered the cook in the family? I thought it was because I was being sidelined in a skill, but that’s not it. Husband really enjoys cooking and I don’t really love to do it as much. After a little soul searching, I really think it’s because I feel like less of a wife when Husband does all the cooking. I want to cook for my husband. I certainly don’t want to clean or sew or do other typical “girly” things. (Well, I want to learn to knit, but Sister mocks me for that so I have been reluctant to learn).

I did cook once for Husband. I made a trout when we were first dating. I like fish to be simple – maybe a little salt and pepper – but Husband likes things very spiced and with tons of different flavors. So, he offered his “advice” on how to make it better. I have never made him dinner since. Since then, he has cooked for me and I have been the dishwasher and occasional sous chef.

But, as much as I want to cook for Husband, maybe my current deal is not so bad. After all, I am the one watching the Phillys lose to the Nationals in the 7th inning and Husband is out making sure the chicken is properly scored.

2007-09-28T14:45:00.000-07:00

A TRIVIA QUESTION

You know all those movies where the bad guys set up a bomb with a digital timer and the good guys cut the wires and stop the clock? Well, the question is: Have you ever seen a film where the good guys cut the wires and the timer keeps going to zero, but the bomb does not diffuse (since you know, they are cutting the wires to the bomb and not the timer itself)?

A friend bet a colleague $50 that such a movie existed, and offered me half if I helped him find the answer. So, anyone know? I could really use $25 toward my “quit being a lawyer and be a dog trainer” fund….

2007-09-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

30-SOMETHING CRISIS – PART I

I used to think I was brilliant. Sure, there were things I was not good at (like foreign languages and fractions), but even while I struggled with those subjects, teachers all universally agreed that I was smart. And, with some private tutoring, I even excelled at subjects like Hebrew, French and Math. But, where I used to think I was really smart, I am now convinced I am not intellectual at all.

I got to Small Liberal Law Firm almost two years ago and realized that I am not smart at all. At first, when I got here I thought I was smart and doing a great job, but then, after about a year of working really hard, I was formally reviewed and told that I need to pay attention to detail and think things though more. I started thinking things through as much as possible and was told that I am a bad writer and my ideas don’t make sense. I listened to other people talk at meetings and heard the questions they asked. You could have given me an unlimited about of time and those questions would not have occurred to me.

My current boss, Evil Partner, perpetuates this. He has not liked me from my first day and tells everyone else every time I make an error. He does not think I am smart and I have begun to believe him. The problem is, once I begin to think I am an idiot, it permeates the rest of my life.

But the thing is, there are things I am good at: I am really good at “people skills.” Generally, people like me a lot and I excel in social situations with men and women. If you give me a task (i.e. get this impossible to find document), I can accomplish it and easily get people to “bend the rules, just this once” when I need them to do so. I love animals and after my second Dog Trainer Training class, I am convinced I can be really good at it. I was an awesome SCUBA instructor before I was forced to quit teaching because it was costing me more to teach than I was being paid.

But, I am starting to think that being a lawyer is one of those things that I am not good at. I do okay in hearings, but apparently can’t write a legal brief in a way that people like them to read. So again, the people aspect of law (client development, relationship building) is all fine, but the “real” work causes a problem.

PART II

What’s weird is that I used to be smart. This original brilliance lasted until I was fourteen and finished Eighth Grade. Starting in Ninth Grade, I went to Loomis Chaffee, a private school in Connecticut. While there, my self confidence and social life flourished, but my grades foundered and no one was going to accuse me of being brilliant. On the other hand, for the first time in my entire life, I started to think of myself as pretty and popular.

On to college, where I did well enough in classes I liked, and poorly enough in mathematics for my professor to offer me a “D” in the required course if I promised to never take another class in the department again. My grades were not very good overall, but I had a kick-ass internship at the White House that eventually turned into an actual staff job.

I loved working in politics. Senator Dodd, in a televised speech, called me the “best Research Director” he had ever had. People thought I was great at political research and I felt like a fraud. It was so easy and mindless – how could people be so easily impressed? But, I enjoyed it so there seemed to be no problems. People (myself included) thought I was brilliant.

Then, in 2000, the political research jobs on the Democratic side pretty much dried up. I was sick of living out of suitcases and jumping from campaign to campaign. I had seen what that life did to friends – high divorce rate, no connection with family, no possessions of any value, few hobbies – and I did not want that for myself. So, I went to law school.

Law school was pretty much high school all over again. I loved living in New York and made amazing friends that I think I will have for a lifetime. I was confident, happy and content. Except, no matter how hard I tried or how well I thought I knew the material, I could not seem to do well on exams or papers. In election law – of all subjects! – I received a B- on the final paper. I could not figure out how that happened. After all, I was clearly the professor’s favorite, spoke during class and asked questions. I did all the readings and was always prepared. I tried to make an appointment to speak with the professor to discuss where I went wrong, but he never made himself available. And, if no one thought I was brilliant, they certainly did not think I was an idiot either.

Then, I got a job at Local Union. I loved my boss and felt like I was fighting the good fight for workers, but the job was basically dead end and I pretty much hated everyone there except Wuzi and Stitch (my boss). Wuzi and Stitch both left (although Stitch eventually went back) and so I left and went to Small Liberal Law Firm. Stitch used to tell me that I was the smartest young lawyer he knew.

PART III

So what happened during all those times that people told me (either directly or through a formal grading process) that I was not smart? Reading this, it appears that my self perception of my own intelligence is based entirely on what other people think. Well that’s not right. And yet, I can’t help it and dream daily of giving up the law, becoming a full time dog trainer and…. Well, that’s the thing. I can’t figure out the “and.”

I love training dogs, but want a lifestyle that costs more than dog training will pay me. I want to not work very hard at a job I don’t really like, and I want people to think I do a good job. But I would be willing to work really hard at a job I loved.

Why is this so hard?

2007-09-25T14:31:00.000-07:00

LIFECYCLES

When I was eighteen, my high school commencement speaker asked all of the graduating seniors to write letters to their 28-year old selves. In that letter, we were supposed to predict what we would be doing in ten years, and mention any goals we had for ourselves. In the ten years between 18 and 28, I forgot all about that letter.

The letter arrived in my mailbox right around the time of my 10-year high school reunion. Nothing I predicted was accurate and none of the goals I had so carefully considered 10 years prior were even close to anything I had a desire to accomplish. Married? Still single. Kids? At 28 I couldn’t begin to imagine. Television writer? Zero interest.

And my goals! Ha! I wanted to be an amateur Marine Biologist (I think it had not yet occurred to me that marine biology involved more than SCUBA diving in cool locations) and learn to sing. Of course, both of those things involve some level of natural talent – say an affinity for science or the ability to carry a tune – and needless to say, neither goal was seriously pursued.

At twenty-eight, I was happily single (although dating a spectacular guy who I would later marry) and childless by choice. I still loved to SCUBA dive and sing in the shower, but my real goal was to be a Union-side labor lawyer and if asked to predict what I would be doing in 5 years (and trust me, in many a job interview, I was asked to do just that) I would confidently answer, “work as an attorney for a Union and help to make the workplace a better place.” My goals were to be successful in my career and land a great job.

And now, at 32, I have learned to stop predicting where I will be in five years, because the answer is, I have no clue: I want to be a dog trainer. I want to be a teacher. I hate being a lawyer. I can’t live on a teacher or a dog trainer’s salary and in a couple months, I will have a mortgage to think about. And I want to have a baby so I definitely need a job with health insurance and paid maternity leave. So my goals have been reduced to the following: I just hope to have kids, not have the bank foreclose on my new apartment, and not get headaches thinking about my job.

But really, maybe I should reexamine where I was at 18. After all, this shift in priorities may make for a good Lifetime television series.

2007-09-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

ROSH HASHANA RESOLUTIONS

So I have been lagging behind lately. And, mostly, I blame the apartment hunting. First, the good news is that our offer was accepted and if Husband can stop diddling around with the contracts (seriously, this is a man who would even make edits to the contract language on the back of a baseball ticket) we should be signing this week. That would be a good thing since they are still showing the apartment and that is making me really angry. Why are they letting strangers walk around MY apartment??? The upside is that I really love this place and have already mentally decorated it.

And really, I can’t blame poor Husband too much. I have no desire to be involved in the mortgage process or contract negotiations and have removed myself from the process. I already told Husband that I want nothing more to do with anything until it’s time to pick out paint colors. And, little does he know, I have pretty much already picked them. Hahaha.

But, the stress of apartment hunting is also causing me to fail on my diet. I want to lose 10 pounds by December 31st and yet I had two Oreo cookies today and it is taking all my effort not to walk back to the kitchen for a third one. Sister and I are going to start seeing a personal trainer, but not until after Yom Kippur and by then I will have likely gained 10 pounds from all the noodle kudgel and brisket. Yum. But, the upside is that after we buy this apartment, we will have no money and I will be unable to afford all the food that is making me fat…

So, in light of it being the Jewish New Year, I have decided that this is as good a time as ever to make New Years’ resolutions. Here they are:

1. Stop overextending myself. Between my training to be a dog trainer, NYCSR, work and desire to see my friends in person, I find myself annoyed that I have no time to myself. I am going to say “no” more often.

2. Make more time to see my friends. This goes along with number one, above, but I am already booked with activities this entire week, and none are with my friends. I need to make an effort to actually see people…

3. Eat healthier and lose 10 pounds. Nothing tastes better than thin. Ugh, who am I kidding? The third Oreo would taste better!

4. Be nicer. Ado will appreciate that I made this resolution once before and it lasted approximately 10 seconds when I called Dick Clark’s female co-host a skank.

5. Be more sincere. I will not tell someone I love their shirt when I think its only okay. I will be honest in my opinions, when asked, and keep my mouth shut otherwise. This sort of goes along with being nicer, but in a different way.

I really am hoping that this year brings along good things such as a new apartment and figure. I could say I was wishing for world peace, but then I would already violate resolution number 5. Of course, my not wishing for stuff for others, maybe I am violating Resolution 4. Screw it. I give up. I am eating a cookie.

2007-09-05T17:55:00.000-07:00

WEEKENDS ARE BETTER THAN WORKDAYS

Last weekend was amazing. Husband and I spent the weekend in Seattle visiting Much Ado About Nothing ("Ado") and T. We went kayaking and explored farmer's markets. It was heavenly.

And, I had other good news this weekend. First off, I was one of the winner’s of Peg’s essay contest on feminism. Yippee. Second, I won a second, non-internet writing contest titled, “The best chef.” I think you are supposed to write about famous people, but I wrote about Husband who makes some of the yummiest food I ever tasted. I will retype that post and publish when I have a second.

The cool thing is that in both cases, the prizes were books. From Peg, I won a copy of “Full Frontal Feminism” and from the Chef contest, I won a book on cooking. I gave the cooking book to Husband but I am keeping Full Frontal Feminism for myself.

But, I am also really excited because my quest to become a dog trainer is officially beginning. On Sunday I will attend my first class as an observer and after I observe a few classes, they may let me assist. Even better, this class is puppy kindergarten so I get to spend 90 minutes on Sunday playing with puppies and watching them be generally adorable. And, even better, Cody gets 50% off the class I am taking with him, which means we save money.

It’s going to be a dog-filled weekend, actually. On Saturday, Tiki, Cody, Husband and I are going to Animal Haven for a meet-up with other Shibas and then Snickers (one of Tiki and Cody’s friends) is coming over for a sleep-over as a trial run before JG allows us to baby-sit for a weekend this winter. Husband is obsessed with Snickers and is already planning a dinner menu of salmon, oats and cheese. See, Husband is not only a good chef for people, but for dogs too.

Now to get through the rest of the week at work….

2007-08-30T14:55:00.000-07:00

GET ME DRUNK AND MY BID INCREASES

Now this is more like it. Husband and I got back on the horse last night (so to speak) and attended an open house for an apartment just a few blocks from where we live now. They served us wine. It was awesome. And, the selling broker knows Sister from childhood and we all went to Hebrew School together. Nothing like a little Jewish Georgraphy to get the good will flowing.

Oh, and the apartment was pretty cool too. It has a full time doorman, 1100 sq. feet of living space and a 2000 sq. foot roof deck, which is shared between all tenants. It is also just a block and a half from Sister’s apartment and if I look out the bedroom window, I can see her building. I like it even better than the last apartment we saw, except that the second bedroom is much smaller than I would like. But, as Husband points out, we want to discourage guests and once we have a baby (no, I am not pregnant, but one day maybe….) it’s not like we will have a space room anyway. Besides, the living room is huge and can easily accommodate an air mattress. But, I digress….

The kitchen has more storage space than Husband can even dream of and I love the washer/dryer. The only renovations needed are a new coat of paint, some cosmetic work on the bathroom and maybe built-ins in the living room. I would also like to build a closet into the wall between the foyer and small bedroom, but that’s not important. You can check out the floor plan below….

Despite the small second bedroom, I really like this place and feel like it could be home. But, I have learned not to get excited about apartments since they seem to easily slip through our fingers and into the hands of people who can offer more money and present a better overall financial picture (i.e. more likely to get co-op board approval).

We’re going back tomorrow to take another look and figure out the right amount to bid. I refuse to get overly excited, but I can’t help picture it with new bathroom tile….

2007-08-28T12:20:00.000-07:00

MAYBE I WILL JUST MOVE BACK HOME

Well, we didn’t get this apartment either. Sigh. Maybe I can pitch a tent in the dog park if we don’t find anything by the spring. That way the dogs have a yard in which to play and I have a place to sleep that does not break the bank.

What is so annoying about not getting this apartment is that we bid *over* asking price and offered to remove the mortgage contingency from the contract and we still fell short. Yikes. I though the market was supposed to be in the tank.

Really, we are not asking for much – just a spacious kitchen and washer/dryer hook-up in a pet friendly building for an affordable price. Our needs seem simple but are harder to attain than I would have thought.

Husband has announced that we will be homeless in a few months. While I don’t think that is necessarily true, I am frustrated. The apartment we saw was 5 blocks from where we live now and I absolutely love, love, love my neighborhood. We are going to see a place tonight that is 20 blocks away, but that is so far and not nearly as nice on the place we just lost out on. Sigh….

Hopefully, this becomes one of those stories where we laugh about how we almost ended up with a crappy apartment because we didn’t know better but were so happy to have lost out because a really cool place fell into our laps, although right now I seriously doubt it….

2007-08-28T07:59:00.000-07:00

THIS IS WHAT KILLED THE DINOSAURS

My apartment is covered in dust. It is just filthy. And the worst part is, I have been cleaning non-stop. No, Husband and I are not slobs, it’s just that the building next door is being gut renovated and the outside is being redone, so dust is flying everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

The doors and windows are shut tight, but despite this, there is a layer about a centimeter deep all over the dressers, cabinets and furniture. There is also a much thicker layer all over the backyard. And it’s not just fine dust that can be easily wiped off. It is cake-y and goopy and makes you slip when walking in socks. I hate it.

Worse than the mess is the unknown quality of the stuff: The building next door is more than 100 years old and this dust could have asbestos or lead paint in it. Worse than gross, that is dangerous. I called the management company of my building since they are supposed to be on top of this stuff, but of course, no one returned my call. Sure, what do they care? By the time I develop lung cancer or something equally as scary, I will have moved away and the cause will be impossible to prove…

No one who sees the dust can believe that we really had the doors and windows shut, but the dust particles are really small and it’s not like the apartment is airtight. And the guys who work next door wear masks.

And, even worse is that we have the dogs. Tiki and Cody are home all day today with the dog walker and are breathing this potentially toxic dust into their little puppy bodies. I am so angry and there is nothing I can do except pray that we win the bid we put in on an apartment a few blocks away so we can move….

2007-08-26T02:24:00.000-07:00

HOMESICK

It’s 5am at home. Two o’clock in the morning in Long Breach, CA, where I am currently in town for the wedding of Husband’s college roommate. This is the second weekend in a row that Husband and I have attended a wedding and for now at least, it’s the last one for a while.

I am tired. I worked all weekend remotely from the hotel (that you Small Liberal Law Firm for reimbursing me for the internet access that is allowing me to write this) while Husband reminisced about college days and fraternity pranks. I only knew a few people at both weddings and spent most of both weddings alone. Last weekend Husband was the wedding photographer so he was busy working and this weekend, he hung out with college friends that I have only met once or twice and with whom I don’t really have much in common.

I want to be home. I want to be in my own bed, listening to Tiki the Wonder Dog groaning in his sleep. I want to be woken up by Cody jumping on the bed to kiss my face and reluctantly jumping off when Husband mumbles something about it being too early to be awake. I want my teddy bear and blanket (yes, I still sleep with both) wrapped around my head so that when I wake up, for the brief moment before I remove the blanket from my face, I wonder if I have gone blind during the night.

Is it possible to be homesick after only being away for a weekend? Despite the fact that this trip was three days long (and I am often away for so much longer at a time) I desperately want to be back with a longing that is strange to experience after only a weekend. I miss the way the air conditioner does not quite cool off the bedroom and how the rain on the window in the guest room sounds like a steel drum. I miss sitting cramped with Husband on a small corner of the couch, fighting for the smallest space, while the dogs lay stretched out across the cushions. I miss being home.

So, as I get ready for bed and hope that Husband doesn’t wake me up when he finally gets back to the room, I eagerly anticipate getting home tomorrow. I look past the morning we will likely spend at the pool and the long plane ride to the moment I turn my key in the front door of the apartment and hear Cody whining and Tiki pacing, waiting for us to come inside. And then I repack my pack to head out again next weekend…

2007-08-21T13:03:00.000-07:00

IN A NEW YORK MINUTE

Ummm, I thought it was supposed to be easy to buy an apartment. Isn't there a mortgage crisis that hit Manhattan? I figured that we were going to have it easy. Sellers would great us at open houses with iced tea and bundt cake. They would beg us to buy their apartment. Not so.

Just a few hours ago I wrote about the awesome apartment that Husband and I found with the help of our equally as awesome broker. We saw, we fell in love, we put in a bid slightly under ask. Then we sat back and allowed ourselved to make fantasy renovations and dream of having two children who peacefully shared the second bedroom. I even already like the colors on the walls.

After we put in the bid, the sellers asked us for a little bit of information about ourselves in order to make sure we could pass co-op board approval. We both came off sounding smart, well rounded and quiet. The perfect neighbors. I marked up the floor plan with notations as to where the furniture would go. I ran through the pros and cons of having the couch on the east wall of the living room. I dreamed of owning my very own washer/dryer unit.

And then the bombshell from our broker. There were two other offers. TWO! How dare these people? I saw the place first. (Seriously, we were the second showing) and yet the greedy sellers still want to have an open house on Sunday. Clearly, they don't need tea and bundt cake.

So, Husband and I will sit around tonight with our check books and try and determine how high we can bid before throwing in the towel and hope that they can't secure mortgages. Grrr.

2007-08-21T07:58:00.000-07:00

MORE APARTMENT HUNTING

The atricles and stories keep coming about the softening housing market and how people can't give away houses anymore. Too bad that sub-prime mortgage crisis has not really hit the NYC real estate market, and if it does, it may be too late for us since we have to move by March 1st.

And so the apartment hunting continues. We lost the last place we liked because the broker tried to pit us in a bidding was against other buyers and, in figuring the cost of renovations, we were talking about numbers so far outside our price range as to be absurd. But yesterday our totally awesome broker sent us a listing only 5 blocks from where we now live. And it is 1000 sq. feet. And they allow dogs. We loved it before we even saw it.

For those of you outside NYC, let me explain that a neighborhood is like its own little town. To move a mere mile (22 blocks) from where we now live would have meant a change in the gym we attend, restaurants from which we order, day care where we send the dogs and a new cleaning woman. And really, it’s the last that gets me since Jacinta predates Husband and he is well aware where he would come out if I were forced to choose between them. But this apartment is 5 blocks south and only ½ a block from Central Park. And it’s closer to the good dog park. And its ½ a block from the same subway I currently take to work. Same take-out places, same gym and still an easy walk to Sister’s apartment.

So, we saw the place last night and even though it’s not perfect, it has tons of potential. We could open up the kitchen and build out a kitchen table. The second bedroom is big enough for 2 children to share and, while the bathroom is small, there is a huge linen closet and…wait for it…. I can hook up a washer/dryer. No small thing in this city. Also, the apartment comes with a storage unit in the basement and, although there is currently a waiting list, there is a locked room for bicycle storage.

Oh, and you can’t tell from the floor plan, but the master bedroom has a walk-in closet that we would turn into an ensuite ½ bath and then we would just build back to back closets along the wall the adjoins the two bedrooms. Viola, we are back to the 1.5 bath just like we have now. We would also redo the kitchen and bathroom, but the appliances and set up as they are now is totally livable and we could make changes as we can afford them.

By the way, this is not the actual floor plan and the apartment we saw is way cooler and has a front hall closet, but this is the closet thing I could find.

I am a little sad to lose the use of my awesome grill and backyard furniture, but they can go into my parents’ basement for a few years until we one day have our dream house in Connecticut. And it’s pretty exciting to think that we may actually have our own apartment!

Now onto the bidding process….

2007-08-14T11:53:00.000-07:00

IN MY EXPERT OPINION….

It’s amazing the way you become an expert in things without even meaning to do so. First, there was SCUBA diving. I love diving and took as many classes as possible in order to make myself a better diver. Then, without thinking about it, I started to notice when other people had equipment on incorrectly and was able to coach someone though a panic attack and perform an attempted rescue of a drowned person without having to think through the steps. Even though I have not been diving in a year (the fault of my work schedule, lack of funds and just overall busy-ness), people still will email me dive-related questions and I answer them.

Then it became reproductive rights. I volunteered with Haven Coalition and learned about fetal development, methods of termination and all the ways that birth control can fail. People from all over the country contacted me about how to set up similar groups and I was interviewed for a documentary. I recently received a call from a young woman receiving a PhD in Public Health who wants to interview me as part of her doctoral thesis. (I referred her to Haven’s current coordinators). My last OBGYN knew who I was before I even had my first appointment and spent the entire time telling me how much he admired what I was doing. Weird.

And now, it is dog training. I sit on the Board of NYC Shiba Rescue, Inc. (I love writing “Inc.” since thanks to the hard work of the fine people at Bingham McCutchen, we are now officially incorporated in the State of New York!) and part of my job entails writing to people who have dogs with behavioral problems. Some of the problems are easy, like offering a puppy a chew toy after removing him from your table leg. Some of the problems are hard, like what to do about a dog with such severe separation anxiety that it can’t be alone for 30 seconds. But I love this new part of my job anyway. And, because I can’t do anything half-way, I am enrolling in a dog training course offered around the corner from my apartment where I will be trained as a dog trainer. The added bonus, of course, is that you practice on your own dog so Tiki and Cody will get lots of training reinforcement. And, if Jenna agrees, then maybe I can work one on one with people who are thinking of giving away their dogs to rescue before the problems escalate to the point where they feel that is the only option.

I love learning new things and I love teaching others about the stuff I am learning. Plus, its even better when you pick up knowledge just doing stuff you would want to do anyway…

2007-08-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

READ ME

Peg found this very cool site that rates your blog. I had to copy her. And imgaine my surprise to know that despite all my talk of abortion, I am appropriate for all. Yippee.

2007-08-10T08:08:00.000-07:00

WHY I DESERVE A FRAPPUCCINO

On Monday night, Sister and I walked from 99th and Riverside (where we saw and ultimately rejected a potential apartment for me to buy) and stopped in the mid-80’s to catch our breath. It was suffocating hot and I commented that I thought I had lost about 10 pounds in sweat, which would have been fabulous if it had been true since I really do need to lose 10 pounds. At that point, Sister grabbed her belly and told me to look at how fat she had become. (Note: Sister has no belly and I am sure this was all a ploy to make me fell better about my own march up the scale). As we sat on the street and compared belly fat, we pledged to eat healthier and try and lose those last 10 pounds.

And for one day I really followed through on our pledge.

Then came the Great Transit Meltdown of August 2007 (not to be confused with the Great Transit Meltdown of January 2007 or the various Great Transit Meltdowns of 2004-6), which ironically happened the day the local papers all ran headlines about raising subway fares, but I digress…

Anyway, Great Transit Meltdown of August 2007 was by far the worst in recent memory. Husband and I left the apartment at 8:15am and walked to our usual subway through conditions not usually found outside of steam rooms. Oscar was there, but instead of giving out papers, he was directing people to use another train since there was no service on the B and C lines. Hot and cranky, we walked to another subway line but help little hope the trains were running since the bus lines looked to be 40 people deep.

Imagine our surprise when we got to the 1-train stop at 79th street and were told the trains were running express to 14th Street. Yippee. Both Husband and I could take that train and walk with only a slight delay to our respective offices. So we entered the platform. There was no air conditioning and it was even hotter than it was outside. People were packed onto the platform and men were literally taking off their business shirts and walking around in undershirts. We waited. And waited. The promised train did not come.

Husband gave up. He went home, sat in the air conditioning, bought a donut and iced coffee and has a relaxing morning. I hate him.

Since I am terrified of my direct supervisor and never know what makes him angry, and since I had promised to come in early, I decided to stick it out. Three trains passed before there was one I could squeeze onto. My train, which thankfully did have air conditioning, pulled out about 20 feet and stopped. We waited for over an hour without moving. A nice man gave me his seat, which I in turn gave to another woman. I said a little prayer of thanks that I had worn flip flops and not high heels. The air conditioning turned off and I slowly began to melt. The man next to me was sweating profusely and, if there had been a spare inch, I would have wriggled away when his sweat began to drip onto my head. I wanted to vomit. After ninety agonizing minutes, the train pulled into Penn Station, 40 blocks from where I started. A ride that normally takes 5 minutes and a walk that would have only taken an hour. I was still 20 blocks from my destination and with the bus lines now 60 people deep, I began to walk.

And this is where it hit me: I deserved a Frappuccino. And not some diet version. I deserved a grande, java chip frap with extra whip. And you know what, walking to work for those extra 20 blocks suddenly seemed a lot more appealing and delicious. And those additional 460 calories I ingested? So worth it.

2007-08-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

EMBRACING DIFFERENCES

Suzanne recently posted about knowing people who are very different than you and still maintaining friendships with them. This is why I love her: When it comes to the fundamentals of what makes a good friend, we both agree it has more to do with respect and a common understanding that they will take your side in a public fight, even if they think you are completely insane. Would Suzanne beat the crap out of someone because they yelled at me for brining my dogs into Duane Reade with me? I know she would. And would she also privately assail my lack of understanding that not all New Yorkers love dogs? In a heartbeat.

My friends come in all different colors, political affiliations and levels of socially acceptable drug use. I would never stop talking to Dee because she uses cocaine the way most people enjoy wine. Tad was my opposing counsel at a former job and I think he really believes that people should be fired for coming into work 7 minutes late, but I like him anyway. I just would never want to work for him. And Mara is way more liberal than I am but I still love her just the same. I take pride in my diverse friendships and think they help me be a better person. But I am unable to make the same leap in apartment hunting that I do in friendship.

Call me racist. Call me classist. Call me any variety of –ist and I will not deny it. I want to live somewhere where the people look and think like me. I want to live in a neighborhood filled with nice Jewish families (not too religious!) who send their kids to the JCC after-school program and know where to buy the best lobster bisque. I want people my age, people with my income level (well, okay, with Husband’s income level) and people who wear Ann Taylor and Banana Republic to work. I don’t want to live in the Morningside Heights of 10 years ago, I want to live on the Upper West side of today. And so Husband and I have trouble finding an apartment.

If it were up to me, I would never move. I have a backyard and live in one of the best school districts in Manhattan. I can walk to the subway in 5 minutes and live near two different subway stops. But it’s not up to me. Landlords keep raising the rent and really, with supposedly falling housing prices (everywhere but here!) we really need to buy a place.

So I read the names on the buzzer and look for “Cohen” and “Schwartz.” I roam the hallways of buildings and look for mezuzahs. And I hate myself for doing it.

But you know the great thing? My friends accept this about me. Stacy thinks my inexplicable need for a homogenous living environment is absurd and offensive, but she has offered to pound the pavement with me any weekend I choose and help me scope out buildings. Sister sends me apartment listings from various websites and Kir put me in touch with her coworker’s friend’s dogwalker’s uncle (or something like that) who may be selling a place in my neighborhood.

So as I continue to enjoy my diverse friends in my homogenous neighborhood I need to remember that these are the same people who could be living next door to me in my eventual new neighborhood and embrace the likely change. And who knows, I may find that one day my neighbor defends me to a co-op board before privately berating me for letting the dogs pee on the landscaping.

2007-07-31T07:43:00.000-07:00

I AM A FEMINIST

I obsess about my weight. I love when a male companion opens up a car door for me and almost never insist on splitting the check with a date. I believe that Husband can be absolved of a multitude of sins if he brings me flowers and I would sit in the dark for weeks if my building super did not change the ceiling light bulb. Romance novels make me cry. I am a feminist.

Peg recently posted a contest in which the rules were to write a blog post about what you would like to teach the next generation about feminism. My answer is the same as the advice my dad once gave me when I dressed in a ridiculous outfit to impress some friends: Be true to yourself.

I coo over babies and puppies. I still harbor the dream of owning my own pony. I also love sports and have strong opinions on the state of the NY Giants offensive line for next season. I have no idea how much money we have in the bank or if Husband invests in stocks, but I love my job as an attorney and as I write this, Husband is doing the housework.

Feminist. That word somehow developed as derogatory or insulting. I was raised by parents who refused to cater to gender stereotypes and never told me I could not do something just because I happened to be born female, but at the same time, when I proclaimed myself to be a feminist in high school, my mother looked puzzled. “Are you going to stop wearing bras and shaving your legs?” she asked.

And then in college, to prove I was a feminist, I refused to wear anything pink, announced I would never get married (and if I did, I most certainly would not be changing my name), and stopped wearing make-up.

I became invested in politics and worked for EMILY’s List, convinced the path to equality involved getting more pro-choice women elected to office. I remembered that I look really good in pink. I went to law school and was singled out in my trial advocacy class for my litigation skills. I wore make-up during the final presentation. I joined Haven Coalition and got married. I changed my last name immediately.

Husband and I would like to have children. And I want our children to grow up making their own decisions and not being held back because of their gender. If my son wants to be a ballerina and my daughter a construction worker, that is fine by me. And if my son only plays with GI Joe and my daughter loves Barbie, that’s okay too. As long as they are doing something because it is what they truly want and not want society tells them to want. And then, no matter the connotations, they will be feminists.

2007-07-25T10:44:00.001-07:00

OUR NEWEST PERMANENT ADDITION

I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were only supposed to be a short-term foster home until a long-term home could be found. But, the weekend turned into a week, which turned into a month and then, it was too hard to say good-bye. And not just for us, Tiki the Wonder Dog had fallen hard for his new friend and separating them just seemed cruel.

So, we are keeping Cody.

How could we not? There are so many reasons for not keeping a second dog (time, expenses, training regimes), but none were so overwhelming that we could let go.

And, when you see Cody and Tiki together, it is clear that he chose us as much as we chose him.

I have volunteered at a variety of different places: I have spent time on political campaigns; I helped run a pro-choice group which provides shelter to women coming to NYC for second trimester abortions (Haven Coalition); I delivered food to homebound people living with HIV/AIDS (Food & Friends); but none of these have been as emotionally rewarding as my involvement with NYC Shiba Rescue.

Why is this group different from others? I am not sure. At first, I thought it was because the people involved seemed to really care, but that’s not a fair statement because the Haven folks were some of the most dedicated people I have ever met. Then I thought it was the one-on-one interactions, but I had that with Food & Friends as well as Haven. But then I realized. I give people a lot of credit for being able to persevere during tough situations. The women who used Haven’s services were able to come from all over the country (and even Puerto Rico and Canada) to NY in order to obtain abortions. The folks to whom I delivered food to through Food & Friends were all able to live independently despite the advanced stage of their illness. I admired them and felt good being a part of making their lives better, but it most cases, I knew that the people I was helping did not care if it was me or someone else helping them. Dogs are different.

Also, when Cody was removed from the shelter and brought to our home, he immediately attached himself to Husband. He follows Husband everywhere and when Husband goes into the bathroom and closes the door, Cody positions himself outside to wait. He spent three weeks at my parents’ house (aka Grammy’s Fresh Air Fund for Dogs) while we were in Europe, but you have never seen a living being as excited as Cody was at Husband’s return.

And there is the difference. In return for rescuing Cody, I got more than the fleeting good feeling you get for helping someone for a few hours or an evening, I got a dog who greets me like a soldier returning from war when I run out to get the newspaper. I have a playmate for Tiki and a dog who when I was sad this weekend, planted himself on my lap and kissed my face. Really, what I got was a constant and unlimited supply of love.

2007-07-24T11:02:00.000-07:00

NOT EXACTLY A COMEDY OF ERRORS

I am not a bad person. I am human and make mistakes, but I am not a bad person.

Lately, I have made more than my share of mistakes: I missed a lunch meeting with Sister because I screwed up resetting my watch after returning from Europe; I forgot the date of a charity event that a good friend spent a long time planning and at which I was supposed to volunteer; I lost a bracelet which was borrowed from a colleague. It has not been my best week.

All three of the above people had very different reactions to my errors and response to my apologies ranged from, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” to two days (and counting) of silent treatment.

Do I feel bad about these things? Certainly. But, despite what some people would have me believe, none of these events make me a bad person. Careless? Yes. A little scatterbrained? Totally. But a bad person? No.

Does this seem elementary to you? It actually took me several days before I could come to that conclusion. And, Saturday night, as I cried about all of this, it took Husband to remind me that people express anger and frustration in different ways, but I can not judge myself simply by others reactions to my errors.

While anger and frustration is part of any deep friendship, it is not supposed to consume you. Friends make mistakes. They don’t hold grudges and they, after time, even learn to laugh about a bracelet having relocated to Poland.

I have apologized, owned up to my errors of the week and offered, where appropriate, some kind of payment. There is nothing more I can do except remind myself that everyone makes mistakes a someone who holds me to an unobtainable standard of perfection will never really like me. It’s not who I am. I forget stuff and people who really love me for who I am understand that.

I guess the point is that it’s okay to be upset with someone else, but if that someone else is someone you truly care about, you get over it and decide the friendship is worth more than even a silver bracelet.

2007-07-23T07:59:00.000-07:00

HARRY POTTER MADNESS

Since I am too busy reading Harry Potter to blog, I thought this would be an appropriate piece to run from Mara, my guest blogger for the day.
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Enough. Harry. Potter.

Seriously. All the papers here, the news programs, the high street shops, are overflowing with Harry Potter, or "HP7" as the bloggers have dubbed thephenomena. The headlines are enough to make me pull out my hair -

- Harry Potter and the internet spoilers
- Harry Potter and the all-night blog
- Harry Potter and the supermarket giant
- Harry Potter and the Asda apology (Asda, a Wal-Mart affiliate, is actually selling the book at less than the wholesale price - local bookshop owners are queuing there to buy copies).

Then there's the teaching assistant who quit over a child wanting to read the book in class. A Pentecostal, she feels the book glorifies witchcraft. And remember the McCann family? They were thinking of putting bookmarks with little photos of their daughter Madeleine in all the copies of the book. And how dare the big, bad New York Times print a review of the book ahead of the embargo? Let's talk about it, while reprinting the review in full. Do theHarry Potter books encourage reading in children or diminish it? My personal two favourites are a UK gambling organisation (Brits bet on anything)announcing they had stopped taking bets on whether or not Harry dies in thebook as his demise would bankrupt their company, and the fact that Childline, a UK help line for children, has laid in extra staff to cope with children's grief should some of their beloved characters die. They havetaken this measure due to the floods of extra calls that occurred upon the break up of the British boy band Take That.

Seriously people. Seriously!

Don't get me wrong. I get it. This book means a lot to a lot of people. Heck, I was disappointed when I came to the end of the Chronicles of Narnia, The Chronicles ofPrydain, even the All of a Kind Family series. And myhusband, who is an avid reader of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series, buys each book as soon as it isavailable, devours it like a starving man and lies back sated before gloomily remembering that it will be two years before the next book. But this is different. Children were camped out along the high road outside Waterstones last night. So were adults. Adults! I've read one or two of thebooks, and seen a few of the movies, but I always wondered at the men and women in suits I saw commuting to work reading a book with cartoons on the cover when I tend to be embarrassed if I read chic lit anywhere other than on the beach, or US Weekly anywhere other than the doctor's office.

Know what? There are two wars on at the moment that the UK is involved with. There is a newly elected prime minister. We're expelling Russian diplomats for refusing to extradite a murder suspect. Ministers left and right are admitting to smoking marijuana as the country decides whether or not tore-re classify pot back to a B from a C misdemeanour. Israel has released 255 Palestinian prisoners. Rupert Murdoch is buying the Wall Street Journal, for crying out loud. There are real, serious things going on in the world.

But wait - is that the point? Have I just discovered the Harry Potter appeal? Is the reason grown men and women spent last night lined up outside booksellers wearing pointed hats, wigs, capes and wands due to the fact that the lovely world of quidditch, magic and wizards and where good (so far) always triumphs over evil just a little easier to bear than one where we're in two wars, violent crime and emergency room visits are up due to the newly extended bar opening hours in the UK, millions of Americans don't have healthcare, and the Democrats have yet to present us with a viable candidate for 2008?

Mind you, I am not judging the Potter-ittes, or Rowl-oholics, and I very much respect JK Rowling, a single mother who, as one of the wealthiestpeople in the world seems to be one of the more reticent and down to earthof the nouveau riche. Certainly an obsession with a series of books doesn'thurt anyone. I just want to understand what about the boy-wonder wizard ismaking people of all ages on several continents swoon in the same fashionthat the Beatles once inspired. I may never understand. In the meantime, Iplan to spend today not standing in a line at a bookshop, enjoying thesunshine with my television off - though I have to admit that my husband was one of the 2.2 million people to pre-order the book on Amazon.com and it is currently sitting on our table untouched as he plays with our daughter. I hope that all this Potter-philia has given those infected with it a welcome respite from the world at large and enables them to return to us, reinvigorated, on the morrow.

2007-07-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

I'M BACK!!!!

It’s been almost three weeks but I have now returned from my European tour. I have to say, as wonderful as the accommodations were, it is nice to be back in my own bed with my own pillows. It’s also nice to see my doggies. Oh, yes. I said “doggies.” After not much discussion and lots of snuggles, Husband and I decided that Cody was as much a part of our family as we were and there was no way we were giving him up. I went out today and bought a new bowl, dog bed, retractable leash for the country and Cody is not officially one of us.

Europe was amazing. Poland was rich in history and the wedding was beautiful. Husband’s fluency was incredibly helpful in France and the best part of London was seeing Mara, Justin and the world’s cutest baby. Even Husband was totally charmed by the baby and constantly wanted to play with her – even at 3am. I imagine that will quickly change if we have one of our own.

The downside of coming home after a long vacation (other than the huge amounts of laundry) is that your body takes forever to figure out what time it is. Despite working until 11pm both Thursday and Friday nights (oh, yeah, the other downside is the tremendous amount of work the piles up), my eyes popped open at 6am and I could not fall back asleep. I am exhausted and cranky because now. Husband is napping, but my fear is that a nap will just increase my jet-lag so I am trying very hard to stay awake. Grrr.

2007-07-02T17:02:00.000-07:00

I AM OFF

This is it. The moment I have been waiting for. I am about to turn off my work computer and head home. While that is exciting enough in itself, I am even more excited by the fact that I will not be back for two weeks while I jet around Europe – first Poland for a wedding and a little Jewish heritage, then to meet up with Photogenic Friends in Paris and finally, office to visit Mara and her amazing family in London. No work, no cares. I can’t wait.

Also, likely no blogging. I am not seeking out entertainment other than spending time with Husband and reading some good books. If there is internet access, then I will post. But, I am not going out of my way to do anything and pretty much disconnecting in order to relax. Yippee!

2007-06-26T08:34:00.001-07:00

IF ONLY IT WERE AS EASY AS JUST CLICKING MY HEELS

Ever since I was a child, I have hated numbers. Math is confusing and scary to me. Financial agreements and anything that smacks of Wall Street bores me. I have never rolled over a 401(k), have no clue what is in my Roth IRA (which some ex-boyfriend made me set up years ago) and can not even tell you with any precision how much I make, except that it is less than the amount of my American Express bill every month. On the other hand, I am finally forced to admit that my self-imposed ignorance of anything financial is a hindrance.

Husband and I are taking the leap into adulthood and buying a home. I pictured the process akin to renting: We would follow a broker around NYC and looks at apartments until we found one we liked. Then we would tell them we wanted it, have our excellent credit confirmed and viola! Apartment would be ours. It turns out that is not even close to true.

Let’s start with the fact that we are picky. I refuse to live anywhere but the Upper West Side of NYC and, although that includes the up and coming Morningside Heights neighborhood, I will not move above 106th Street and, if above 97th Street, I refuse to be east of Amsterdam Avenue. Oh, I also will not live below Columbus Circle and if south of 65th Street, I won’t live west of Broadway. So pretty much I am restricted to one of the priciest sections of Manhattan. Plus, now that Sister is on the West side, I am not moving far from her.

Now that we nailed down a location, the apartment must have a minimum of two decent sized bedrooms. Husband and I want to have children soon and it would be ridiculous to have an apartment that we outgrew as soon as a baby was born. (Note: I am not into co-sleeping since even Husband takes up more room in the bed than I willingly will part with and I also refuse to live like so many other NYC families where the living room couch becomes the marital bed. In the words of Husband – NFW!)

So, we search high and low (well as high as 106th Street and as low as 66th Street) and see one place that could work, but will not allow dogs (Tiki is a non-negotiable part of the package) and then we find it. An adorable apartment in a well maintained building on 106th and Broadway. Near the subway, restaurants, bagels and Riverside Park. Two blocks from a dog run. Bright, quiet and full of pre-war details like a 66 foot hallway with exposed brick. The only thing it was missing was outdoor space but we already had conceded that we would not afford an apartment with a private garden again and really, who needs outdoor space when three different parks are within 100 yards of the front door?

And so much space! I can envision making this place home.

Now, for the financials and the part where I get confused and lost. The apartment badly need renovations. It needs a new kitchen and bathroom and the maid’s room is really just wasted space. I would knock down the walls from the bathroom to the kitchen, enlarge the bathroom and build in a laundry cabinet for a washer/dryer and turn the kitchen into a real chef’s kitchen with an island to make it eat it. And the paint needs to be stripped and the floors polished and sanded. So we are talking serious money.

So, Husband comes up with a brilliant plan. We put 10% down (we have been saving diligently for years for this moment!), withdraw a bit from our 401(k) and take out a mortgage to cover the rest of the cost of the apartment as well as the cost of any renovations. We figure we would offer about $100K under ask since real estate prices are falling.

Well, it turns out that prices are falling everywhere but NYC, where they have been steadily rising. And, except for new developments (which are priced so high as to be offensive), you are pretty much stuck with coops and all the crap that entails. Like an obligation to put down 20-25%. Who has that kind of cash lying around???? And, you can’t take out a home equity loan because in a coop, you don’t really own your apartment, you own stock in the corporation that is your building and your share entitles you to live there…or something. So we can’t finance the renovations through the mortgage and we need more money than we can dream of for a down payment. Oh, and the last apartment sold in the building went for above asking price!

I spoke to the mortgage broker and ended up listening to her talk about options for 20 minutes, none of which made any sense to me. All I could see was my little dream apartment slipping away. I finally told her I did not understand what she was talking about and (politely) said that I could not summon the energy to deal with it anymore. Head safely back in the sand, I went home and cracked open a couple bottles of wine in which to drown my sorrows and forget that I did not know the answers to questions like “How much does Husband make per year?” and “Do you own any stocks?”

Grrr. Forays into adulthood suck.

2007-06-22T09:37:00.000-07:00

WITH THIS RING....

I am touched. Honored really. Wuzi and D asked me to officiate their wedding. I was nervous at first since I am not actually registered as a wedding officiate in NYC, but it turns out to be surprisingly easy. You just use the internet (hmmm, I knew there had to be more to this thing than blogging a porn!) and become an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. That’s free and then for an additional $24.99 they send you all the paperwork you need to go to city hall and become an official officiate. So now, I am officially “The Reverend Farf.” I may have to atone for this on Yom Kippur.

Now that the registering process is underway, I am even more nervous. I love Wuzi and Dave. I love them individually and as a couple. And I want to help make their wedding perfect. They are writing their own vows and having a secular service, so I don’t have to worry about the whole “in sickness and in health” thing and nobody will force me to read a passage about Jesus, which might make me uncomfortable. But, I want to do something they will remember (in a good way – not a “can you believe she said that????” kind of way).

So, I put it to you. Has anyone out there ever officiated a wedding of your friends? I would love to know how you did it and what kinds of elements you incorporated.

2007-06-14T08:22:00.001-07:00

WON'T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?

Sister is moving to the Upper West Side and I could not be more excited. She is going to be living two blocks from Husband and me and that means I will get to see her all the time and hopefully, convince her to join the same gym as me so I will actually be motivated to go occasionally.

Husband is also fully in support of this move as he will now have a date for all locally playing scary movies, a genre of film I refuse to patronize. (Seriously, why pay $10 to ensure a week’s worth of insomnia and nightmares???) Plus, since Sister has a doorman, we can now use her to get packages delivered. It’s a win-win situation.

And of course, there is the easy access for dinners, brunch and general hanging out. She is moving in on June 22nd and I am already planning our first local brunch on the 24th! Yippee.

2007-06-08T08:24:00.001-07:00

I LOVE NY

I spent a few days last week in DC at a conference. It was weird to be back in a place I had lived for so many years (1993-2001) and yet did not miss when I left. So much has changed. DC is more gentrified, hipper (by yuppie standards) and so much more bland than I remembered it. Gone are the small African cafes where the staff made fried plantains for my boyfriend’s daughter’s first grade class because she told them she was studying Trinidad in school - instead there is a slick and wanna-be hip, but really kind of generic Latin-Asian fusion restaurant with mediocre food and expensive drinks.

And yet for all this gentrification, I was still informed that I could not walk the 6 blocks from dinner back to the hotel at 10pm because the area was “dangerous.”

I am so happy to not live there anymore.

2007-06-02T18:19:00.000-07:00

CODY

One day I hope to have lots of foster children. It breaks my heart to read about people who, for whatever reason, basically throw away their children. Every time I read a story about a person who injured and/or neglected their child, my blood boils and I want to reach out and hug the poor kid, who no fault of his/her own, got a really raw deal.

I am not really in a position right now to have a foster child. My apartment is too small, my work hours too insane and my social life too important to me. But, despite all these factors, Husband and I have decided to become foster parents of a different sort.

Meet Cody.

Cody is about 18 months old and comes from upstate New York. His previous owners surrendered him to a shelter where he was adopted out to a family with a handicapped child. This family clearly knew nothing about Shiba Inus and allowed their handicapped child to walk Cody on a leash by herself. Cody saw another dog, pulled on the leash and was returned to the shelter as “dog aggressive.” He was scheduled to be put to sleep (PTS) within a few days. NYC Shiba Rescue was contacted and since there was nowhere else for Cody to go, Husband, Tiki and I welcomed a new member into our pack/family.

I was really nervous about how Cody would do. Dog Aggression can be serious and I had no idea what was in store. However, it has been an amazing few days. However, this is not a dog aggressive dog!

Tiki and Cody took to each other immediately.

They wrestled, played and napped together. They went on walks together. Not only was Cody not dog aggressive, he was sweet, submissive and fearless. He is willing to share food and toys (which makes him better behaved than Tiki) and explores everywhere. The hardest part of walking him is that he tries to kiss every person and dog that he sees. Do I believe he pulled on a leash to get to another dog? Sure. Do I believe there was any aggression in that act? Not a chance. Oh, and maybe the adoptive parents should have tried this, but Cody will “heel” when asked. Hard to pull a leash when you are walking in step with the leash-holder.

Cody loves to snuggle. He kisses us constantly.

Cody was clearly once well-loved. He has the best recall of any dog I have seen in a long time, knows his name, has a perfect sit, down, roll over, shake and can catch treats and toys in the air. He won’t come up on furniture unless invited. He will “drop it” or “leave it” as you command. Anything to please. Oh, and he is completely gentle with the children who live upstairs.

I have no idea what happened that made someone give up this sweet and loving soul. I don’t know how you can look in Cody’s eyes and live with yourself after letting him down. And yet someone did.

But we can’t foster forever. As much as we would love to, our landlord is not so keen on the idea. And Cody does have some separation anxiety (really, who wouldn’t after twice thinking you found your forever home only to end up back at a shelter on death-row) so he wouldn’t be happy with Husband and my unpredictable work schedules, something Tiki handles in stride.

But I am invested. So if you are interested in being that person who won’t let Cody down, head to NYCShibaRescue.org and fill out an application to adopt him. I will have a hard time letting go, but it will be a lot easier if I know he will really has found his forever home this time.

2007-05-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

INTERVIEW ME-ME

Peg had this really cool thing on her site where she answered five questions sent to her from someone else and I begged to be allowed to play along. She kindly acquiesced so here are Peg’s questions and my answers.

1.. How did you decide upon the title to your blog?

Farf is my childhood nickname. My entire family on my mother’s side calls me Farf and it is how I refer to myself. I seriously think my little brother (who is 11 years younger than me) did not know my actual name is Sara until he was 5 or 6. The “Amusing” part came from the play on the word “musing” and is also a little inside joke with my immediate family who constantly vote me as least funny family member.

2.. You work in a law firm with some pretty interesting people. What one person at the firm has had the biggest impact on your career there, and why?

The person who had the biggest impact on my career is, ironically, someone who I don’t work for all that often. The former hiring partner hired me as a lawclerk and then really pushed for me to be hired as an associate. He fights for me and sticks his neck out when I screw up and makes sure everyone knows when I am successful. He even told me in advance what to say during my interview so I could do really well. Without him, there is no way I would be working here.

3.. Your work at the Haven Coalition has surely brought you in contact with many women who are in difficult circumstances. Is there one woman's story that touched in some way more than any other?

All the stories are different and both inspiring and heartbreaking all at once. But, if there was anyone who really touched me, it was the first woman with whom I came into contact. I expected someone very different than me, someone with whom I would have nothing in common. After meeting her (I was not hosting and we were at a coffee shop waiting for the host to arrive), she commented that she hoped the host came soon b/c she (the patient) had a long day and just wanted to watch her favorite TV show and go to sleep. I inquired as to the show and she told me “Charmed.” It was my favorite as well! I told her I had the show recoding at home and we both got really excited. I called the host and told her we were going to my apartment (it was a couple blocks away) and we went to my place and watched Charmed until the host arrived. We talked during commercials and I relieved that but for a condom and some health insurance, we were no different at all. It changed how I looked at all future patients who came to NY needing Haven’s help.

4.. You and your sister seem to be friends as well as siblings. Was your relationship with her always that way, or did you two butt heads as kids?

Haha. Ask my mother that one. We tried to kill each other multiple time as children and young adults. For example, I repeat a conversation below that is typical of the kind we had as kids:

Sister: I hate you. I wish you had never been born.
Me (smugly): Well, I am older so if I was not born, you may not have been born.
Sister: Then I hope you drop dead.

5.. You have suddenly become independently wealthy. Where would you live, and what activity(-ies) would you pursue to fill your time?

I think about this all the time – especially when the lottery is above $100 million. I would own a townhouse on the upper west side of Manhattan and a house in CT on the shore. I would SCUBA dive and train dogs. Husband would be a food photographer for Gourmet Magazine. I would have a personal trainer who came to my home every morning and a personal chef to design tasty and healthy meals. I would still be an advocate for the working classes but with my wallet and inevitable political influence and not as a job. I would travel constantly and take classes in writing and baking. I would NOT be stuck in the office on such a beautiful day!

WANT TO PARTICIPATE? DIRECTIONS FOR THE INTERVIEW MEME

1. Leave a comment saying, "Interview me."

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions (if I don't have your email address, you can email me at *sarad* (at) *tidalwave* (dot) *net* instead). I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

2007-05-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

TIKI AND DJ

Last weekend Sister, Husband, Tiki, Photogenic Friend and Photogenic Wife all went to CT. Father, Husband and Photogenic Friend went to see Steely Dan in concert while Sister, Mother, Photogenic Wife and I hung out together and reacquainted Tiki with his cousin DJ (Brother’s Basset Hound)

During the last interaction between DJ and Tiki, there was an altercation during which Tiki bit and ripped DJ’s ear. They had previously gotten along and upon further examination Tiki was suffering from a variety of illnesses that likely made him crankier than normal.

I have to admit I was nervous about getting them back together. What if another fight broke out? Upon entering the house, I tried to ease the transition. I removed all food, toys, treats and the dog bed on the floor (both dogs thought it was there bed and we did *not* need a territory war). DJ nipped at Tiki’s leg and I held my breath. Tiki walked away. DJ pushed Tiki off the couch and Tiki moved to another space without real complaint (just an exaggerated sign to let me know he was not thrilled about having to move).

In an effort to establish pack order I fed Tiki first and DJ second (after all, Tiki is older so in nature he would be ahead in the pack order). I made sure to give them equal attention and they were never together unsupervised.

But, these two dogs, who I feared would never really get along, came to be friends over the weekend. They played tug-of-war with a stick, chased each other around the yard, helped each other dog holes in the otherwise well maintained lawn, and worked together to trap and kill a frog so they could roll in its blood. (Really, if there is a doggie heaven, I am sure it will involve rolling in the blood of a fresh kill).

And, when it was time for a well deserved nap, this was how they slept. Seriously adorable and completely unposed. Way to go boys!

2007-05-25T10:08:00.001-07:00

MONTREAL AND BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY

My belated anniversary present from Husband is a trip to Montreal for the long weekend. I am so excited. We are taking the train from NY to New Haven and feasting on pizza with our parents and then taking Brother’s car on a road trip to Montreal (Brother is in Europe for the summer so I get his car as needed!) Husband has promised to try and control his road rage and we are taking the train to bypass the worst of the NY traffic, so hopefully the trip will be pleasant – as long as he does not ask me to read a map. I am really the world’s worst map reader and it drives Husband nuts.

This weekend is also special for another reason: It is Brother’s 21st birthday. He is heading to Amsterdam with friends to celebrate and I can only imagine that he will remember very little of this particular birthday. Anyway, I wanted to wish him a very happy birthday on the 27th and hopefully he will take a break from binge drinking and semi-legal pot smoking to read this and know that I am thinking of him – even if my cell phone won’t work in Canada.

Happy birthday Brother!!!!! I love you!

2007-05-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

NYC SHIBA RESCUE

I sent this email to a bunch of people, but I want it to reach the widest audience possible.
--------------------------------------------------
Hi everyone. I am sorry for the mass email, but I wanted to let you know that a group of friends and I recently started NYC Shiba Rescue. The venture quickly grew and we currently have 4 dogs available for adoption with many more needing foster homes. I am looking for some people who may be interested in adopting or fostering a Shiba Inu.

Shibas are really smart, independent dogs that are very loyal to their family. They are also really clean and Shiba puppies can housebreak in a matter of days. If you are not sure if you are ready to adopt, try fostering a dog. If you fall in love with your foster dog, you may have the option to adopt and it is a great way to try out having a dog and make sure you are making the right decision. Also, people fostering dogs are given supplies and food so your expenses are somewhat limited. People adopting dogs get a 50% off obedience classes, a discounted crate, collar, leash and some food as well. All dogs are spayed/neutered, up to date on shots and temperament tested. We really need your help because without safe homes, these otherwise wonderful animals will be killed to make room in shelters.

Check out the NYC Shiba Rescue website.

If you are interested in fostering or adopting a dog (or if you would like to otherwise volunteer even if you can't take a dog right now) please contact me at sara (*at*) nycshibarescue (*dot*) org.

Also, please forward to everyone you can think of. We really need to find homes for these dogs and the others that are waiting rescue in shelters.

2007-05-24T07:14:00.000-07:00

A CRUEL AND UNUSUAL COURT DECISION

As a recent newlywed (How long do you get to be a newlywed anyway? I am now just ‘happily married’?), I don’t foresee divorce in my future. But I also have a firm grasp of the fact that many couples do get divorced for a multitude of reasons. So, while I believe that many people give up on marriage far too easily, I also believe that a good divorce is better than a bad marriage so, imagine my surprise when I read the following in NY Lawyer:

A Manhattan appeals panel has reversed a trial court's grant of divorce, holding that the wife's allegations did not satisfy New York's "cruel and inhuman treatment" standard, notwithstanding her claim that her husband "physically force[d] himself on [her] sexually."

"In its vagueness and generality, this testimony could include conduct ranging from the criminal (e.g., forcible rape) to the merely obnoxious," the unanimous Appellate Division, First Department, panel held in its unsigned opinion, Gross v. Gross, 256.

Now, apparently Mr. Gross appealed the lower court decision granting the divorce and the appellate court found Mrs. Gross’ testimony as to the sexual abuse to be too vague, but, even assuming for the sake of argument that Mrs. Gross was exaggerating and the abuse was more along the lines of Mr. Gross begging and attempting foreplay to an unresponsive partner, why on earth would you want to stay married to someone who, in open court, essentially calls you a rapist?

But, I don’t think Mrs. Gross was exaggerating. After all, according again to NY Lawyer:

The panel found that Ms. Gross' evidence failed to establish that her husband's conduct "so endangers [her] physical or mental well being [as to] render it unsafe or improper" for the couple to live together, as required by Domestic Relations Law §170[1]. The panel discounted the sufficiency of Ms. Gross' claim that her husband "force[d] himself" on her sexually, "ramm[ing her] up against the wall" in their bathroom. After noting the "vagueness" of the accusation, the panel added, "Moreover, plaintiff offered no evidence that she had sustained any injuries as a result of this incident," citing Palin v Palin, 213 AD2d 707, in which the plaintiff in a "marriage of long duration [was] required to satisfy a high degree of proof of cruel and inhuman treatment."

I don’t think ramming someone against a wall is a vague accusation. I think it’s a pretty clear indication of domestic violence. And, proving injury is hard. Many victims of domestic violence refuse treatment for injuries out of shame or fear. And many abusers are smart enough to cover their tracks.

So what now? Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Gross still live together in their Upper West Side apartment and I would guess that he is still ramming her against walls and raping her. Hmm, if that is not cruel and inhuman treatment, I am scared to see what is.

2007-05-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

HELP KAOS FIND A HOME

Just one more plea for help.

Kaos needs a home. Please read her story here and look at the pictures. Then, if you can help, post a comment or go to this website and email Jenna. It’s win –win. You will save a life and have your life more enriched for it. Seriously. If I had more space, she would live with me…

2007-05-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

BETTER THAN A BLOG MEME IS THE ONE IN REAL LIFE

As a follow-up to yesterday’s post about my Mom, I also wanted to touch upon a few other women who have had a profound impact on my life – my aunts in general and my aunt Meme in particular.

My mother has three sisters and my father has one sister. (Actually, neither has brothers and among my cousins, the girls outnumber the boys 3:2 and none of my cousins’ children are male, leading Husband into minor panic attacks when he thinks of a future surrounded by only women - hence, the dog is a boy…) Anyway, growing up, I never heard the expression, “It takes a village to raise a child,” but it was certainly practiced. The extended families spent weekends together, vacationed together and, often times, dinner was at the home of whichever aunt was cooking something good that night.

All my aunts are wonderful in their own way and, as an adult, I see the unique attitudes and outlooks that they bring into the family, thus enriching my own life. There is Fee, who could be one of the most giving people I have ever met with a sense of humor that is wickedly sharp. MFAS taught me the glory of shopping malls and I literally spent years wondering how her kitchen always looked so spotless (the answer, apparently, is to never cook), Autie (the youngest of the aunts) was always the fun one and the person to whom we felt comfortable asking the questions we could never ask our own mothers and driving in her car meant that the good radio stations would be playing. But, Fee, MFAS and Autie all lived at least an hour away (a lifetime to a child) and visits with them always held the magic of a holiday. Not so with Meme.

Meme, my mother’s oldest sister, lived 10 minutes from where I grew up and during the early part of elementary school, I went to school with her children. My cousins by Meme (Thew and Ado) were more brothers than cousins as Meme’s house was where my family lived when we were waiting for our new house to be completes, where I convalesced during a bout of pneumonia, a safe haven while my sister was hospitalized as a baby, and where we stayed on those rare occasions where a babysitter was not a feasible option. More than just an aunt, Meme was the second mother of my childhood.

Although Meme and Uncle M no longer live in the house I remember from growing up, I remember that house as well as I would remember my own. There was a spot, behind the dresses in the upstairs hall closet where I would hide with my blankie (they always had an extra one on hand for me), nestled in the carpet and imagine I was a princess in a castle. I can still smell the old dresses and out of season clothes when I close my eyes and inhale. I also remember the baskets hanging on the kitchen walls where Ado and I would stash our action figures and play underfoot until Meme would chase us out of the kitchen. And, unlike at the other Aunt’s homes, where visits were vacations, any punishment incurred at Meme’s carried over to my own house when it was time to leave. Not that we were punished often (with my siblings and cousins there was usually enough entertainment to avoid trouble) and generally any trouble we caused made Meme or my mother laugh to hard to inflict real punishment. (Note to Thew and Ado, having me eat leaves is not funny!) Besides, being at Meme’s was like being at home so it was perfectly acceptable to ignore everyone and watch TV or hide in a bedroom with a book.

Meme is also the person I call when my own mother is unavailable. Put hand soap in a dishwasher and have foam all over the kitchen minutes before a huge date? Call Meme. Want a second opinion on a graduation outfit? Show Meme. Need to feel good that someone actually checks your blog regularly? Email Meme. Want to say a belated “Happy Mothers’ Day” to someone who filled the role on numerous occasions? Write this post.

2007-05-14T08:58:00.001-07:00

MOTHER AND FRIEND

Yesterday was Mother’s Day so Husband and I spent the weekend with our Mothers (and in my case Grandmothers and Aunts and Cousins). But, even though the holiday is officially over, I wanted to take a public moment to talk about my Mom.

If there is a more self-less person in the world, I do not know of her. And, its not just the big things like driving 6 hours to DC to help me move and sitting in the storage area of the UHaul, because there was no room in the front, but the little things like how when she used to make my lunch for school, there was a note almost every day packed in with the lunch, with a simple message such as, “I love you.” (Although on one day when Mom acted as a substitute teacher at my school, the note actually said, “I’m watching you,” which I think was a very different sentiment.) Even now, at 32, I still think that sitting wrapped in my mother’s arms in one of the safest places in the world. Mom is my constant cheerleader, personal wedding planner and role model.

I attended a private high school and the application process was not unlike that of applying to college, complete with a personal essay. At that time, I wrote the essay about Father, who was (and still is) an incredibly successful lawyer and wonderful father. I wrote about him making time to attend gymnastics competitions and how I hoped to one day be a lawyer just like him. At that time, it never occurred to me to write about my mom. After all, what did she do except stay at home in order to always be available to shuttle me to those gymnastics practices and to make the inevitable trip back and forth (sometimes more than once) when I forgot an essential item like my sneakers or leotard? And, all those kitchen table talks when I cried about how I could not master the balance beam and she reassured me that I was a wonderful gymnast (Mom was a fantastic liar back then!) and that my balance beam troubles were not due to lack of skill but because I had inherited my grandmother’s long feet? They were just part of being a mom and she was simply doing her job.

Then, as I got older, Mom was always the volunteer to drive me and my friends around town. She would listen quietly in the driver’s seat while my pre-teen friends and I chatted, forgetting there was an adult in the car. She never judged our conversations, just occasionally inserted helpful comments such as explaining what a phallic symbol was. (Note to Mom: While I am sure you thought you were preserving my innocence by explaining it was anything longer than it was wide, that explanation caused me all sorts of embarrassment when in high school, I referred to the phallic shape of a Snicker’s Bar in front of someone else’s mom). And, when my friends and I were able to drive on our own, I never gave a second thought to the fact that everyone would rather spend time hanging at our house, but only when Mom was home. But isn’t that just Mom doing what she is supposed to do?

Now, however, I realize that all those things were part of *my* Mom, being a mom, but that most people did not have the same experiences. My mom was the permanent chauffer of my friends because the other moms would not do it. My mom explained, in her own way, terms like “phallic” and “hooker” (defined as a “woman who dresses funny”) because no one else had taken the time to tell us. And, she listed in the car so that she would always know what was going on in my life. So thanks, Mom, for being the very bestest Mom and for, 32 years after giving birth to me and 14 years after your legal obligation finished, for continuing to be my cheerleader, chauffer and friend.

2007-05-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

ROLE REVERSALS

Life has been insane lately so I am happily taking a mental break from work and other obligations to help plan this summer’s trip to wine country. 20 hard drinking friends, a party bus with a stocked bar and vineyards galore serving the best Chardonnay and Cabernet franc Long Island can offer. This was supposed to be an annual trip, but last year the whole getting married thing got in the way of my attending. So this year, I am taking an active role. I picked the party bus and it is sweet. Sister will have lots of room to pass out after we are done drinking.

I mentioned to a friend today that I was picking out the bus because Husband and Photogenic Friend had been lax in their planning duties. During the course of that conversation, I received an email from Husband, cc’ing our new acquaintance, Sammie, informing Sammie that I am horrible at remembering our social calendar so to please contact him before confirming plans to have Sammie fly us in his plane over NYC. (I am terrified of going but have been officially bullied!) My friend laughed at me and told me that I had my gender roles all wrong and I, as the wife, should be in charge of the social calendar and Husband should be in charge of securing transportation.

I would have normally shrugged this off, but last night, while at going away drinks for Husband (Have I mentioned in the last five minutes how excited I am that he is leaving Big Corporate Law Firm? No? Well, let me tell you, I am thrilled!!!) the partners and associates who joined us all commented that I would now have someone to cook for and to help me clean. Huh? Husband is a much better cook than I am and he does more than his fair share of vacuuming, counter top scrubbing, etc. It’s not as though I sit home all day twiddling my thumbs, cleaning the apartment and waiting in hopes that he will give me a chance to try the latest recipes from Food and Wine Magazine. I am an attorney with a demanding job and help to run two volunteer groups. I want Husband to go to new job not because I want a maid, but because I miss my partner and friend. Interesting that no one thinks of that.

So, before I go back to work, I am going to sign the contracts for the party bus and defer social plans with L&N until I check with Husband. And maybe, if I am lucky, Husband will have dinner waiting for me when I get home.

2007-05-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

FAMILY TIME

So much to write about and so little time lately, but I am commited to going back to daily postings (at least Monday through Friday) so no better time to start than now.

Plus, yesterday was my one year wedding anniversary. Husband and I celebrated with a leisurely day of hanging in the backyard and then dinner at the same place where he proposed. It was utterly romantic and wonderful, except that I drank too much Sake and basically had to be carried home. But, when I woke up this morning, I was in bed, my clothes neatly folded on my dresser and a glass of water was on my nightstand and a trash can (just in case!) was next to the bed. This just proved that Husband is the most wonderful person ever.

Actually, Husband and I were discussing this weekend all the reasons our relationship is so great (don’t make fun, we know we were being sappy) and we actually realized that its because we both understand that nothing is more important than family, and act accordingly.

For example, two weekends ago, Cousin Ado and T, Cousin ‘Thew and L and their parents all came to New York. Ado and T stayed in my apartment and on Saturday night, Husband and I hosted a barbecue for the family (Husband was particularly proud of his curry spiced lamb chops). We spent the weekend hanging out together just walking around the City, relaxing and playing Taboo. (Note: The way to get someone to say Ceasar is not to use the clue “Et tu Brutus?” but do simply say “lettuce, croutons, dressing.” There is no room for braininess in Taboo!)

Last weekend, BiL and his girlfriend came to NYC to celebrate her birthday and we all went out to dinner. On Sunday, Sister came over to the apartment to dress me for the anniversary dinner (she really has much better taste in clothes) and Father stopped by as well on his way into town from CT in order to sample for Gelato at a newly opened location. And this weekend, Husband and I will be in CT visiting his parents and then at a 65th anniversary brunch for my Nana and Poopsie!

And yet, despite all these obligations, we don’t begrudge each other time with our families and, in reality really enjoy spending time with them. It’s been a really nice foundation for the last year and I am looking forward to all there is yet to come.

2007-04-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

SPRING CLEANING

I know it’s been a while since I have sat down to write anything and I am going to try and be better about it, but work has been really busy lately and my real-life volunteer activities have taken over so much of my life that finding time to sit and write has become impossible. Plus, when the weather is nice, I will do anything I can to be outside instead of in front of a computer.

This weekend, Husband was out of town and Tiki the Wonder Dog and I spent all day both Saturday and Sunday in each other’s company. We played in the yard, went to long walks and even worked on learning new skills in a freeshaping class organized by the ever fabulous Jenna. (Note: Poor Tiki had walked about half the length of Manhattan that day and slept through most of class). We also cleaned out my closets. Tiki was actually really helpful in this as he provided me company and happily ripped up any old clothes that were thrown on the floor. He even pounced on a bug that got into the apartment, thus protecting me from any potential attacks by MOUS (Millipedes of Unusual Size).

When I cleaned my closets, I got rid of all sorts of clothes and shoes that I knew I would never wear again. I made a pile for donations – clothes/shoes that no longer fit or are in good shape but out of style – and a pile for trash – clothes/shoes that were in such poor condition that they could not be worn. I spent about 10 hours on this project and by the end, my drawers and closets were in perfect order. Husband came home and I proudly showed off my work, only to have him remark, “I didn’t know they were a mess before so I don’t notice the difference.”

But really, I did more then just clean out my closets this weekend, I also did some major thinking about where I am in life, where I want to be and what was holding me back. And, while cleaning out the clutter in my closets, I also cleaned out the clutter in my life.

Not unlike my closets, unless you looked really closely, you could not see that there were areas of my life that were messy. But I knew it and dealing with the clutter kept me from concentrating on the things I love.

So, I made amends with P (who really seems to be getting better). I let go of my anger about her behavior leading up to my wedding and tossed it out along with the cute Steven Madden shoes that has so many holes the cobbler would not even try to fix them. I also made an important decision not to teach SCUBA this summer. I love diving, but was really sick of teaching classes so this summer, when I go diving, it will be because I want to be in the water. I had forgotten why I loved the sport until I finally realized I could do it for fun again. Now I can’t wait to get back into the water.

I also took a small step back from Haven Coalition in that I am not going to work the phone this month. Sure, I still help run the group, but not having to deal with clinics calling this month is a welcome break. It’s been years since I have taken even the tiniest hiatus and, although with the recent and unfortunate Supreme Court decision, it is probably not the best time to do this, it is better for my mental health. Plus, it’s leaving me free to concentrate on some of the reorganization that Haven needs. And while we are on the topic of stepping back – this will be the last semester I help Stitch teach his class. Too much work and he gets all the glory (and pay). I don’t have time for this anymore.

Finally, I have realized that being part of two volunteer groups (NYC Shiba Rescue and Haven Coalition) is as much as I can handle. I am not even going to pretend to be part of the book club whose meetings I never attended, I stopped volunteering to fundraise for political candidates (always hated doing that anyway) and decided to spent my free time doing things I love.

Would someone who met me know that I felt there was too much clutter in my life? No. But its nice to not only realize what I need to do (or not do) to be content while also coming to the realization that I just don’t look good in red.

2007-04-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

FOR BROTHER

I wish I had some excise for not writing recently, but really, it is just good old fashioned writers block. I have all these great ideas on the subway in the morning and they disappear by the time I arrive at my office. Bah!

But today, a story has stuck with me and I can’t let go. The shootings at Virginia Tech gave me nightmares last night and I have not been able to shake an uneasy feeling all day. After all, Brother is in college in a small idyllic setting not unlike the Virginia Tech campus. The fact that it could have been his school (and thus him affected) has been eating away at me all day.

Of all my immediate family members, I talk to Brother the least. It’s not for any real reason except he tends to have a very different schedule than I have and time between calls just gets away from us. I realized that if something had happened to Brother, it would have been a couple of weeks since we had last spoken and I would never forgive myself.

It’s funny because Brother is almost 21 (although his ID says he is almost 23 – Hahaha) and I still picture him in my mind as the little kid with the bowl cut that used to call himself “Lonny Deroony” and pretend to me a game show host. In my mind, “What Utensil Am I Thinking Of” is still the most fun game he knows (the answer was almost always spoon) and there is nothing in the world sadder to him than at the end of the song “On Top of Spagetti” when the meatball gets squished. And none of this is fair to him.

I left for college when Brother was only 7 years old and I remember when he first came to visit me at school. He was so proud of himself because he had learned to tie his shoes. And when he came the next year and I took him to his first concert (David Bowie and Nine Inch Nails) and introduced him to Vice President Al Gore, he went home talking about how delicious the molasses cookies were at Starbucks. But now, I need to let him grow up.

It’s really hard to do this. I picture Brother’s college friends as a bunch of children at some sort of extended overnight camp. But, when I read that a 19 year old was adult enough to purchase a gun and kill 33 people (including himself), I am forced to look at college students as adults capable of feeling – and inflicting – great harm. And I realize that Brother is not at some isolated overnight camp as a small child, but instead an adult with experiencing real world dangers and situations.

So, in the end, this rambled mess is my way of expressing my relief that Brother is safe today at his college and a semi-promise to him hat I will try to start treating him a little more like an adult and a little less like someone who still sleeps with a pair of ripped jeans instead of a baby blanket.

2007-04-13T10:40:00.000-07:00

CONGRATULATIONS SISTER AND HUSBAND!!!!

Sister, Husband and I often hang out together. Generally, Sister and Husband both spend the entire time expressing their desire for more fulfilling careers. Sister would like the ability to one day do whatever it is she does on an international scale and Husband would like to work less hours. This week, both of them got their wish.

Sister, who spent the better part of last week wondering if she would be lad off this week, had interviewed for an internal transfer within her company, but to another division. She was really excited about the possibility of this new job because, even though it was much harder than her current position, there was much more to learn and it put her in the right direction career-wise. On Monday, she received the good news that the position was hers and she will start in May.

Husband needed a new job desperately. His hours at Big Law Firm were unpredictable and we were both sick of his having to spend Thanksgiving Day on conference calls every year. Plus, there were often nights were Husband would not come home before midnight. I missed him. He had interviewed for a In-House job with a consulting firm and today, received the offer. This means that he will likely be home from work by 7pm every day (although, it also means he needs to actually start arriving by 9am). Plus, the commute is great. Just a couple stops on the train right by our apartment. No muss, no fuss.

I am really excited for both of them. And, as Father pointed out, for the first time in a long time, it was not me searching for the new job! As a way of showing them how excited I am, I am offering to let them take me out for drinks Saturday night to celebrate (hey, they both make more than me so no reason not to let them pay)!

2007-04-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

OUT WITH THE OLD

Okay, another post about health insurance. As I mentioned in a previous post on January 26th (Blogger is not letting me link to it), my beloved Dr. Kendler moved to private practice and no longer takes my insurance. For the last few months it has been no more than a fleeting thought - a sadness that sort of washed over me when someone found my blog by Googling “Dr. Jason Kendler.” But, today, it became a big deal.

I have health insurance which is pretty comprehensive. I also have some eczema on my face which, in addition to being annoying, makes it look like I am constantly breaking out. I tried fancy face cream and even got a facial, but even the woman doing my facial told me to see a dermatologist. Luckily, I already have one of those as well. (As a total random coincidence, Husband and I have the same one, even though we both began using him before we had ever met. It’s like destiny!) Anyhoo, I made my appointment with Dr. Scheiner, only to be told I needed a referral. Here is where it gets tricky….

From whom was the referral supposed to come? I called Dr. Kendler’s old practice and was told no one there could refer me because they no longer had any doctors accepting new patients with my insurance and, even if they did, I would need to come in and see that doctor before they would write me a referral. I need a new primary care physician (PCP). So, unsatisfied with that answer, I called my beloved Dr. Kendler who, while totally willing to do anything to help me, could do nothing since he was no longer a participating provider with my insurance. He did refer me to a new doctor who would take my insurance though. Grrr.

I don’t want a new doctor. I want Dr. Kendler!!!! (Do you think if I throw an online temper tantrum, it will work and he will accept my insurance?) I remembered that my OBGYN once recommended someone to me. I called and made an appointment for a consultation with that person in the hopes that they will then refer me to Dr. Scheiner and I can get some topical cream to get rid of my eczema. It really should not be this hard. And still, I don’t really win because I am stuck with the new doctor option and have to accept the loss of Dr. Kendler. But at least this way, all the doctors are affiliated with the same hospital.

Now I try and picture how I would be feeling if instead of eczema that looks like pimples on my chin, I had something seriously wrong with me. What if I felt a lump in my breast or something equally scary? I would have to lose precious days of treatment by first meeting with my new PCP and then getting a referral. In this case, I only have to be unsightly for a day or so. I am really lucky. And of course, at least I have insurance at all. Many folks don’t have insurance at all and would think my little rant to be awfully petty. But still, I am mad….

2007-04-03T08:46:00.000-07:00

WHY DO PEOPLE TALK ABOUT CHRISTMAS MIRACLES? FREEDOM FROM SALVERY IS WAY COOLER THAN THE BIRTH OF A BABY

One of the reasons I generally like my job is that the people are awesome. Consider the following email sent from the name partner of Small Liberal Law Firm to the entire staff with the title “Reminder”.

“Israel's Green Leaf Party would like to remind you that marijuana is not kosher and should not be smoked or eaten during Passover.”

I mean, how many people get that kind of email from their boss????

And then, of course, there was the moment when my co-worker came into my office to wish me a happy Passover, “I am so jealous,” she sighed. “Jews get the best holidays. You get to leave work early and have dinner with family on totally random nights.”

“Well,” I commented, “The only reason it seems random to you is that the work calendar generally follows a Christian calendar. We are always off on Christmas, no matter what day of the week it falls. And, if we followed a Jewish or Islamic or Hindu calendar, your holidays would seem random.”

My poor co-worker got so embarrassed that she did not think of that. It was really cute and so unlike when I worked at Big Corporate Bank and asked to leave early for Seder. I was told I had to take a half day vacation. When I protested, I was told, “That’s what personal days are there for.”

I pointed out that the office calendar was ridiculous because we were closed on Christian holidays and therefore people of other religions always had to use personal days for religious observance. So I asked Big Corporate Bank Boss if that meant that he never used his personal days. He had the nerve to reply, “Sure I use them. I use them to extend my ski vacations in Utah!” Now, I am sure he was trying to be funny but really, it was just annoying.

I would not do well in the corporate world. This is why I am lucky I have Husband. He does great in the corporate world and seems to thrive there. And, in a Passover miracle, he may also escape the bondage that is his lousy job!

As I mentioned in previous posts, Husband sought and was rejected from a job that seemed perfect for him. We could not understand what went wrong as the people in the group in which he was applying repeatedly told him that he would be a perfect fit for the position. But, when he met with the Big Boss, he was given a “no” with no explanation. Totally dejected, but not quite ready to give up, Husband asked for another shot. The people he interviewed with lobbied Big Boss on his behalf and, yesterday afternoon on the way to Seder, he received a call that they will interview him again. Yippee! Freedom is on the horizon!

I can barely imagine how great life would be if both Husband and I enjoy our jobs. See, a Passover miracle…

2007-03-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

OK, SO ADMITTEDLY, MY NEWS IS NOT THE SADDEST OF THIS WEEK

First off, there is some sad news. Husband did not get the job I reference in my birthday wish. It was a total shock to us since he had been informed that the job was all but his, but I am holding fast to the notion that all things happen for a reason. Since Husband hates being a lawyer anyway, I suggested that he use this time to figure out what it is that he really wants to do for a living. I suggested a few ideas such as Ice Cream Flavor Inventor (I would, of course, be the official taster), but he rejected that. Well, excuuuse me for trying!

It’s been a few days since I have had a chance to sit and write, but work has been insanely busy. By the time I get home, I am so tired, it is all I can do not to fall asleep immediately. But, thankfully, things are calmer today and I have some time while waiting for a conference call to start.

The reason work has been so busy is that I represent a union that represents workers who recently had their health insurance benefits terminated because the employer failed to make the proper insurance premium payments. As part of my job in representing these people, I have been speaking to all the affected workers about how their life has been changed now that they have no health insurance. This is incredibly depressing. I have met people with potentially life threatening chronic illnesses who can not get the medication they need. I have also met a single mother of three who suffers from debilitating migraines. She takes medication daily to combat this, but 9 pills cost more than $200. This woman makes $1600 a month after takes and will have to pay $600 just for her medication. That is not going to leave enough to pay rent and feed her children. I am both sickened and saddened by the entire ordeal. Of course, if she forgoes the medication in favor of rent, she will be too ill to take care of her young children. She literally can not win this fight.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not necessarily a supporter of universal health care. Too many times I have heard of long waits for doctor appointments and inadequate access to care. Me? I like to see the doctor right away. But, there is the flip side. The workers who lost their health care could lose their homes and the plight of the uninsured and underinsured is nothing to be taken lightly. There was an article in the New York Times (I think – if I find it I will link to it) a few months back that made my skin crawl. Basically, it was about people foregoing critical end of life treatments that had a low rate of success so that they would not bankrupt their families. Yikes. What a horrible choice to have to make. And yet, people make it everyday.

So what’s the answer? I have no idea. But I do know how lucky I am. If Husband or I lose our jobs, hopefully the other will still be employed and we can fall back on that insurance. I don’t think my employer is going to stop paying my insurance premiums as a strategy in a labor dispute and, if they did, I am relatively healthy and unlikely to be in dire need of insurance.

But at least one positive has come out of this situation. I remember why I originally became a labor lawyer. My passion is renewed and now, I will stop blogging and go back to fighting for those who feel powerless to fight for themselves. And, if you don’t hear from me for a few days, you will know why.

2007-03-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

YOU LIKE ME... YOU REALLY LIKE ME

Peg awarded me the "Thinking Blogger" award. Basically, she says I am a blogger that makes her think. Hopefully, her thought is not, "How fast can I click away from this site?"

Oh, gosh. I feel like I should have something really smart to say here, but of course I don't.

This award was created by Ilker Yoldas of The Thinking Blog and once awarded, you are supposed to recommend five other blogs that really make you think. This is harder than one would think because there are so many wonderful blogs out there with interesting and unique perspectives. I do not know how to choose. And, Peg is one of the first people I would pick to honor with this award. Her posts on being a step-parent wonderfully weave humor into sitations that would make most people crumble. I am forever in awe of her. But, alas, I do not think the rules of the award allow me to link back. So, here are five additional blogs that really make me think....

Anonymous Lawyer -everytime I forget why I hate Husband's job, this blog reminds me.
Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting - I am not a Mom yet, but when I am Alex will be one of my role models
Working Families Blog - reminds of of my politics and keeps me active fighting things that matter
Liz Rizzo's Blog - I don't always agree with her, but she does make me question whether my beliefs are real or merely a product of habit
Jenna's Blog about Kaos - Really, I spent hours thinking about this dog daily and my heart breaks every moment of it

So, there you have it. My nominations for Thinking Blogs awards - stop by and check them out.

2007-03-21T08:58:00.000-07:00

BIRTHDAY WEEK WISH

This is my birthday week and, as usual, there are events all week to help usher in the next year of my life. Tonight I am having dinner with my family at Mesa Grill (sadly, Brother can not attend since he is back at Miami University after spring break), Friday is my actual birthday and I am having dinner at Peter Lugar’s Steakhouse – one of my favorite restaurants in the world – with Husband, Photogenic Friend and Photogenic Wife. (Photogenic Friend’s birthday is on Sunday so Friday’s dinner is really his birthday celebration) and then on Saturday, Husband and Sister are throwing me a birthday dinner at Avenue A Sushi. Finally, we cap it all off on Sunday with brunch at Prune. Seriously, I will have gained 100 pounds by the end of the weekend since every of the above named events will definitely include cake, and I could not be more excited.

But, to me, one of the best parts of this week is Husband’s presence at all of the birthday events. Those who know me in real life (as well as long-time readers of this blog) know that Husband’s job is horrible with unpredictable hours and demanding clients. For example, he billed 13 hours of work on Thanksgiving Day. People! He works with banks! They are supposed to be closed on Thanksgiving Day!!!! And, yet, his bank clients demanded conference calls and documents. I hate them.

The problem with Husband’s schedule is the unpredictability. While he knows how important my birthday is to me, I also understand the rigors of his line of work and would not be surprised if last minute, he called to back out of dinner tonight. I would probably cry and sulk for a few days, but that would be unfair to him since I do know that he *wants* to spend time with me. But, despite his desire to spend time with me, I end up going to events alone while he is at the office and many nights, he comes home well after Tiki and I have gone to bed. I did not know it was possible to miss someone who sleeps next to you.

To that end, Husband has been actively looking for a new job. He had spoken with corporate recruiters, networked with fellow college alumni and gone on a bunch of interviews. So far, nothing has panned out. Either Husband was not senior enough for the positions or the pay cut (we know there will be a pay cut in exchange for better hours) was too severe. (Thank you again Husband for working so hard so I can work at something I love for very little money, but a fabulous environment). But today, he has a third and final interview at a company at which he would be happy to work. The hours are good, the pay not so severe as to force us into default on rent payments, and the benefits more than acceptable. Did I mention the hours? The job is basically 9-6:30 and involves no weekend work. I am so excited by the possibility; I hyperventilate just thinking about it.

So, as I blow out the candles on my various cakes this week, I will have the same wish – for Husband to have a job that allows him to be at every celebration for the rest of our lives.

2007-03-18T16:12:00.000-07:00

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO LIVE AND LET LIVE?

Meg, a friend of one of my friends, was diagnosed with breast cancer while in college. She was adopted so she did not know her family medical history and breast cancer had always seemed like something about which other (read: older) people had to worry. It wasn’t until she had been ill for over a week that she finally went to the University health center. It was another three weeks after that before they figured out that was wrong and sent her to a specialist. By that time, the cancer had spread to both breasts and she underwent an emergency double mastectomy. Meg, ever the upbeat spirit did not let it get her down and used to joke that the new, artificial breasts that had been implanted were way better then the originals because she finally had the right size breast to wear a tank top and look hot.

Fast forward 10 years and Meg got married. In January, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy who is the spitting image of her. Like most Upper West New Yorkers on maternity leave, she loves to take the baby to Central Park on days like last week when the temperature reaches 70 degrees. So, she is sitting on the park bench giving the baby a bottle when another woman with a baby sits next to her and casually asks what is in Meg’s baby’s bottle.

“Baby formula,” replied Meg. “I use Similac Organic.”

The woman stared at her in horror before launching into a rant about mothers who are too lazy to breast feed and how their children lack not only essential vitamins but also the bond between mother and child that comes with breast feeding. When the woman was done with her rant, Meg looked at her and burst into tears. Seemingly satisfied that her message had been received, the woman promptly left.

When Meg told this story to a group of us over drinks, I asked her why she hadn’t taken the time to explain her situation.

“Because it’s not her business,” she explained. “I would never criticize her for her parenting choices and she has no right to judge me. She does not even know me.” Meg sighed, “Besides, I wonder if on some level she is right and I am doing something wrong so I don’t fight back.”

We quickly reassured Meg that she was an awesome mother and leaving her newborn son with a babysitter to enjoy cocktails with her friends was not a crime, nor was using a bottle. But it got me thinking how some people are so quick to judge others without bothering to actually learn the circumstances surrounding whatever ‘choice’ they are judging.

Tiki has developed aggression issues. Husband and I have taken him to the vet, called a trainer and pretty much done everything we can do to fix the problem. While he is still a sweetheart to humans (both adults and children), he will growl and snap at other dogs now. So, that means no more doggie day care and no more dog runs. But, it also leaves us with the problem of how to ensure that Tiki receives the proper amount of exercise while we try and work out the aggression issues. Thinking we stumbled upon a short term solution, we took him to the small dog run near our apartment – a dog run which is nearly always empty.

When we got to the run, it was empty and for about 15 minutes, Tiki romped after snowballs and ran around. As we were getting ready to leave, a person walked in with small dogs. We immediately leashed Tiki and told her we were leaving. She was really nice and told is how her dog used to be aggressive and gave us the name of a trainer she used to help remedy the problem. At this point we were standing outside the dog run when another woman with unleashed dogs walks by in order to have her dogs go into the large dog run. The dogs come close to Tiki and I politely tell her that my dog has developed agression issues and to please call her dog back. (Tiki was actually being very good and just standing next to me but I had a TIGHT grip on the leash).

The woman with the unleashed dogs begins to lecture Husband and me.

“I am so sick of people who buy Shibas. They are irresponsible people who know nothing of temperament and just buy a dog on looks.” Her dogs were ugly so I think she was jealous of how good looking Tiki is. She then went yelling at us that we were irresponsible for letting Tiki in the small dog run if we knew he had issues. Husband countered that we were not in the run but holding a leashed dog outside the run and her dogs were the ones acting inappropriately.

Husband pointed out that if we had not said anything about aggression, she would not have known (Tiki was still just sitting at my feet - a position he maintained the entire conversation). She then called me names as I was the one holding the leash and basically told me if I knew anything about dogs I would not have gotten a Shiba and that I clearly never properly socialized him. Both those statements were false. I wanted to cry because I am already on edge about this and being yelled at was the last thing I needed, especially because we were already leaving.

Here is the thing – Tiki was properly socialized. He has been exposed to other dogs on a regular basis since he was 12 weeks old. We are working with a trainer to fix the aggression issues. And, dogs often develop aggression after being mauled themselves. The woman at the dog run has no basis for assuming we were bad dog owners when she could have just as easily jumped to the conclusion that we were responsible owners attempting to re-socialize a dog who had fear aggression (and what we were doing – exposing the dog to a place with lots of doggie smells but no other dogs is exactly the first step in that process). Also, as a members of the NYC Shiba meet-up, I am well aware of the issues Shibas have and just how sweet and lovable they can be. And yet, not unlike Meg, I did not fight back because a tiny part of my thought this mean woman might be right. (Luckily, Husband did not have the same thought process and threatened to have Tiki bite her! hahaha).

While my encounter with a mean woman at a dog run is not quite as traumatic as Meg’s experience with the La Leche League Nazi, I can not figure out what would prompt a perfect stranger to just make snap judgments about another person and actually tell them! As JG commented when I emailed her out of frustration, Husband and I were being responsible by warning her that Tiki might snap and she took advantage of that to be mean. And Meg was simply responding to an innocent inquiry from another new mom.

So, in sum: If I want you to comment on how I am living my life, I will ask you your opinion. Just follow my lead and mock strangers in private with your friends and keep your mouth shut in public. Otherwise, you may find we stop trying to make Tiki less aggressive and just start having him channel that aggression to your leg…

2007-03-15T07:47:00.000-07:00

IF IT WAS THAT IMPORTANT, I WILL REMEMBER EVENTUALLY

I have been at a loss to come up with good topics lately. Actually, that is not entirely true. I have had flashes of brilliance for blog topics, but then, just as fast as they come to me, they are gone with only the faintest trace. I fear I am turning into my mother.

Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with turning into my mother. She is a wonderful, selfless person who pretty much lives to make others happy and only asks for a nice piece of jewelry every once in a while from my dad in return. There are many worse ways to end up. But, Mother also has an affliction she affectionately refers to as CRAFT Syndrome. CRAFT is an acronym for Can’t Remember a Fucking Thing. And it’s true. She forgets stuff all the time. In fact, as kids, Sister, Brother and I would heartily take advantage of this and, upon getting in trouble for something, remark indignantly, “You gave me permission, remember?” The answer was always a laugh and a reminder that she had CRAFT – it worked like a charm.

I have always doubted my memory. There are times I am speaking to Sister, Brother, Husband, Father…or really anyone…. and I will recall a conversation, only to be told it 100% did not happen the way I remember. And yet, I could swear it did. I used to think everyone else was wrong, but after being corrected so many times, it is clearly my faulty memory.

Is it age? I am going to be 32 in a little more then a week, but 32 hardly seems old enough to be experiencing such memory loss. And, this time, it is more than conversations being remembered differently. I can not remember if I turned off the lights before leaving the apartment this morning (sorry Husband), I can not remember important dates unless I write them down and I most definitely can not remember the four very cool blog topics I came up with yesterday.

2007-03-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

WHEN YES MEANS NO

Maybe I should have paid more attention in 7th grade health class. You know, the class where they separate the girls and the boys and teach the girls about things the boys have no business knowing about – things like menstrual cycles and pregnancy. It’s not that I don’t know about things like that, but I remember a key component of that class was learning that boys will want to have sex and it was the girl’s job to say no. And it is the saying no part that I think I have to work on.

I hate telling people I can not do things. So, as a result, I find myself pulled in a million directions and dread even the simplest activities- including ones I should enjoy. For example, I used to love teaching SCUBA classes and signed on to teach as many as I could. But, then, after being asked to take a few extras “in an emergency” I got sick of doing it and quit altogether. I have not taught in almost a year and only miss it occasionally.

Then there are favors which should be easy, but the people for whom I am doing it seem to think that if I am helping them out (say loaning them something or storing an item for them) that I should be the one to do the extra legwork and picking up and dropping off the stuff for them. Ummm, newsflash: If I am storing your belongings in my apartment, the least you could do is to drop them off for me. Asking me to pick them up “on the way home from work” is not going to make me eager to offer to help you again. And yet, I do it. And then I get mad.

I am usually assertive in real life and have no trouble telling people what I think, so I am not sure why the constant fear of saying no to people when they ask for favors. Sure, there are the favors you do to get ahead (like offer to pick up coffee for the boss) and the favors you do because you love someone (like lend Sister clothing), but then there are the favors that are really annoying obligations that turned from an easy thing (open up front door, store books) to a major hassle (get off subway three stops too early and attempt to lug books before giving up and spending $10 on a taxi). It’s not like I care if you like me more because I went the extra mile and my epithet should not read “Here lies Farf. She was helpful” but yet, I continue to say yes, when I really want to say no.

So now, I am leaving work in order to run someone else’s errands before heading to Mother’s for dinner. At least the one thing I am happy to say to say ‘yes’ to today is some homemade meatloaf!

2007-03-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

PIZZA, PIZZA!

Husband and I have been on a pizza quest. Pretty much since the first week we started dating, we have tried to sample the various pizza fare of NYC at least once a week and, by this point, consider ourselves something of pizza connoisseurs. We are also each about 10 pounds heavier than we were when we met, but a slight increase in our BMI is hardly worth abandoning our noble quest.

So, after approximately four years of sampling, I thought I would bring our findings to the general public. Even my father would agree that this is something that would make a blog worth reading.

However, some disclaimers are in order: I do not eat meat on my pizza for religious reasons and Husband does not eat meat on his pizza because it is not worth hearing me complain about it. Also, we are from Connecticut originally and all pizza is measured by New Haven standards – thin crust, brick oven and made to order. If you want deep dish pizza reviews go elsewhere. We order the same thing, a Pizza Margherita (tomato, cheese and fresh basil) and use that as the standard by which pizzas are judged. Also, while I am sure that people will comment about great pizzas in the Bronx, Queens and Staten Island, we don’t travel often enough to those boroughs so we don’t care about the pizza there.

So, without further ado, here is the review (hey, that rhymed!)

Slices

Nick’s: There are two locations a couple of blocks from each other but the better pizza is at the 71st street location. Plus, the 24-jour delivery is key. Also, as a fan of the cornmeal on the bottom of pizza, I like the texture. However, depending on how busy they are, the quality is uneven. However, to grab a quick slice with friends after drinks, it can’t be beat.

Pizza Rustica: There are a million locations of this chain, but what really drew me here when I used to have one nearby was the fresh mozzarella option. Plus, the sauce was really sweet and the staff was more than willing to make the slice “extra hot” both by leaving it in the oven for longer and by liberally applying hot peppers. For a quick lunch, it was perfect.

Rays: They are all the same no matter whether it is Famous Original, Original or just Ray's and, although not made to order worth including in this list if only to remind people of the poor quality. The sauce tastes like it is canned, the dough like it was frozen (and it probably was) and the cheese is bland. However, the slices are huge and, when I was in school, I admit to having a slice or two on the run. Still, if you want a slice of pizza and you are on the upper west side, I would much rather head to Nick’s.

Pies

Cronkite: Awesome atmosphere and upon walking in, Husband declared it was just like a place he would open. Wonderful wine list with servers who actually know about that which they speak. Truffle pizza? How can you go wrong with a pizza covered in black truffles, even if it is $35 for a 10-inch. But, on the Pizza Margherita, the sauce tasted like Prego, the oven is clearly electric and the dough tastes like it was frozen. Plus, the pizza came out way to fast to be made to order. The real draw is the drinks…

DiFara: Heaven on a metal dish and worth a trip to Brooklyn. Here, it is all about the toppings. The artichoke pizza and portabella pizza were the best I had ever tasted. The Margarita was almost as good. Prepared by one man who does not let anyone else touch the pizza and only the freshest ingredients, this is just wonderful. Be prepared to wait at least 90 minutes for your pizza in a small restaurant with only a few dirty tables and no liquor license. I would go back again in a second.

John’s Pizza: Excellent mass produced pizza. The busier they are, the better the pizza but for pre-theater, it is worth a stop at the 44th and 8th Ave location. Also, great for tourists because it is some of the cheesiest of all the NY pizzas (although Two Boots also has a large amount of cheese) and the staff is wiling to allow you to add your own toppings and make the combination you desire.

Lambardis: Why oh why do people still come here? The lines are long, the sauce is bland and the crust is too puffy. Skip it. America's first but not NYC's best pizza.

Lazo: On First Avenue somewhere between 12th and 14th streets. For when you can’t get into Una Pizza Napolitano, it is right around the corner and a nice substitute. Fresh ingredients and reasonably priced, it also offers a wide selection of wine and pasta. Plus, the booths are comfortable and the staff very attentive.

Grimaldis: Right under the Brooklyn bridge, this is pizza the way it should be. Or rather, it used to be that. In recent years the pizza has fallen off. The sauce changed and the pizza has not had the same taste. Still worth a trip to this NY favorite, just don’t expect it to meet your expectations.

Patsy’s: The question is…which one? Excluding the location on 117th Street and 2nd Avenue, they are all the same. Decent pie made with fresh ingredients and a sauce with a little bit of a tang mixed with a subtle sugar taste. Fresh mozzarella is an important element of this pie and although it little too much cheese for me in the cheese to sauce ratio. Also, the end of the crust can be a bit doughy so make sure to ask for the pizza to be cooked “extra crispy” if you want a great experience.

Patsy’s on 117th: Yum! According to the servers, the restaurant sold the name but not the pizza recipe so this Patsy’s is in a class all its own. Sure, the neighborhood is sketchy and the atmosphere leaves something to be desired, but the pie is heavenly. Sweet sauce, excellent cheese to sauce ratio and thin crust made piping hot in a brick oven. However, having only gone on Sundays, the pizza can be a little uneven depending on who is working, although it has certainly never been bad.

Two Boots: Ok, I will admit I am always drinking when I go here so my thinking of the pizza is altered by the beer and wine, but I love the texture and the cornmeal crust and bottom. While I doubt the oven is brick, it is still a tasty treat.

Una Pizza Napolitano: I saved the best for last, even though it worked out that way alphabetically. Sure, my Father would call this “fancy pizza” and $17 for a personal sized pizza is pricey, but you will never find better. Brick oven pizzas prepared one at a time until the dough runs out. And the sauce has a sweet taste that combines deliciously with the smoky flavor in the oven. Oh, but Sister learned the hard way – there are 4 tyoes of pizzas (all variations on a Pizza Margherita) and its probably better if you don’t even bother to ask for any oregano or parmesan, because the only “extra” you are allowed is sea salt.

2007-03-06T09:14:00.001-08:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTH TO ME

It’s my birthday month. I will turn 32 on the 23rd. I kind of like it. Someone told me when I turned 23 that it was my golden year (23 on the 23rd), so this is a reverse “Golden Year.” And thirty-two makes me officially old to my younger self. From the time I was 7 until I was about 29, I kept a diary. Even in my late 20’s, there were lists of things I wanted to accomplish by “the time I am old, like 32.” Yikes. That is disturbing to read.

But when do I start to feel like a grown-up? Husband and I are planning all sorts of grown-up things such as buying a house and having a baby (no, Mother and MiL, I am not pregnant so don’t get all excited), I am a lawyer and co-Director of Haven Coalition, an all volunteer pro-choice group. On paper, I am certainly an adult, but just this past weekend I spent several minutes attempting to race the garage door by pushing the door close button from inside the garage and then trying to run out before it closed. Every time I made it safely (there was an unfortunate incident involving the recycling bin that held me up for a few precious seconds the first time) I giggled and tried again. Not very adult. Then, I went into the backyard with Tiki and chucked snowballs at him which he tried to catch in his mouth. I think I was having more fun then he was.

Sure, there have been some changes. I like to go to bed by 11pm – even on weekends. Instead of a major birthday party, this year I am opting for dinner with some close friends. Just something totally low-key. In fact, until Sister and Husband mentioned it, I had forgotten to plan anything, totally unlike me. I am having dinner at my favorite steakhouse in the entire world on the 23rd with Photogenic Friend to celebrate *his* birthday (on the 25th) and, for the first time in years, I have no plans to take my birthday off work in order to go to a spa. In fact, I have an arbitration scheduled that day.

As I write about the ways in which I have become more grown-up, I can’t help but think about the fact that I still sleep with a teddy bear and the same blanket that was in the crib as a baby. I giggle at knock-knock jokes and think a hot fudge sundae is a perfectly acceptable alternative to dinner. I jump over sidewalk cracks whenever possible and my new goal (having conquered the garage door) is to be able to hop on one foot the entire length of the Museum of Natural History.

So, I am not sure if my younger self would consider me an adult or still a child. I certainly don’t feel all grown-up, but then, I wonder if anyone ever does. And, while, if I win the lottery tonight I would likely use some of the winnings to buy stock, it would most certainly be in a company like Hagen-Daaz, as long as dividends came in the form of pints.

2007-03-05T15:04:00.000-08:00

KAOS - PART 2

Many of you know the story of Kaos, the homeless dog of a homeless man that Jenna amazingly rescued from almost certain death. Anyway as copied from other folks, here is the latest update…

Please help, if you can!

We’re trying to set up a transport for THIS WEEKEND (the 10th/11th), so if you live near the route (I-95 up through Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania) and have a couple hours to help
out, please check out the transport schedule and volunteer. Thanks!!! (PS If you live near Sims, NC, we need a place in that area for Kaos to spend the night on Saturday night.)

Kaos needs to be out of her current foster home by Sunday due to other circumstances with the foster family, and we’re trying to keep her from having to move into a second foster.

2007-03-05T14:06:00.000-08:00

ABSENTEE BLOGGER

I haven’t written in a while – not since I went to London to visit Mara and the new baby for a weekend. On the way back I caught a cold which pretty much made life miserable for a few days and I could barely get out of bed in the morning, let alone sit down to write. And there were so many topics on which I felt like writing, but of course I forgot about them as soon as I thought about them.

So much happened this week that it has been impossible to keep up. I had a review at work which was, perhaps, one of the weirdest ever in that it appear that my boss – someone with who I thought I had an awesome relationship, hates me. But then several other people told me that they thought he was overly harsh and anyway, all that review did was make me doubt my every move.

Then C___’s dad died and I found myself crying after attempting in some feeble way to comfort her. C___ is actually a friend from high school and the mother of my goddaughter, who I believe to be the most perfect child on the face of the earth (although she holds only a slight edge over her younger brother, mostly because she can talk and tell me how great she thinks I am). Anyway, C___ is one of those people that you can’t lose touch with, which is a good thing because I can get very wrapped up in my day to day life and without people like C___, I would have no one in my life to remind me of the time I set myself on fire by reaching over a lit Menorah during dinner at her house. Haha. Good times. I spent the weekend in CT with her.

Things had been a little off lately between C___ and myself. We didn’t speak as often as we used to speak and I was more than a little hurt by her failure to give me a wedding present, mostly because I tend to shower her children with gifts whenever I see them. And this year, I had to call her to make sure the kids even got the gifts. I am not sure who really started to pull back first but I noticed things had changed and was more than a little sad about it.

So, when C___ called me and I was running around trying to accomplish a thousand different task and fight a cold, I did not stop to take the call. In fact, I did not even check the voice mail for several hours. When I did check the voicemail, it was clear that C___ had been crying and, my first though being that something had happened to her husband or children, I called back immediately. I hugged her and told her how sorry I was, but that just is not enough to really help and I wish I could do more. And really, who the heck cares about stupid presents. I am a horrible person.

Then, while in CT, I went with Sister to visit my maternal grandparents and got the following advise from my grandfather, “But a lottery ticket.” I think I will take him up on it.

So, with all that was going on, there just has been no time, but I will try to more diligent about writing.

2007-02-26T08:57:00.000-08:00

SAY MY NAME

There are only a few times I have found where an instance occurs that really makes me look back and marvel at how much I have changed over the years.

I lived in Washington DC from 1993-2001, during which time I was heavily involved in politics. I worked in the White House Office of Media Affairs under President Clinton, during which, for a portion of my tenure, I set up interviews with the President and Administration officials with local television stations. This involved booking the interviews and being present in the TV studio when they were filmed via satellite to manage the shoot. I absolutely loved this job (really, internship but I was there so long there were few people who knew I was not actually staff) and my boss, Dave, trusted me entirely. He even let me take over for him so he could travel to NY to interview for a job with MTV, without anyone knowing.

Usually Dave traveled to NY when he knew there were no interviews scheduled at which President Clinton would be present. I had tons of interaction with the President, but always in a peripheral way and was much better known to the Vice President (I had worked for Mrs. Gore briefly) and Administration Officials, with whom I was trusted to work without Dave being present. But, one day the unavoidable happened. Dave flew to NY and that morning, we received instructions to set up satellite interviews in Columbus, OH and Jacksonville, FL to congratulate the cities on opening the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and obtaining a football expansion team. Sure, Dave wasn’t there, but I called him and we decided I knew the drill enough to handle it on my own. Besides, it was just the kind of goodwill, non-policy stuff the White House likes to do around election time. Easy. Except not.

Just as we were starting the first interview, the President looked at me and asked, “How many people lost jobs in the recent base closings in Jacksonville?” I stated at him blankly. Was he speaking to me? I turned around expecting someone else to be there. “Ummm, I am not sure, Sir,” I replied, “I can call the Pentagon and find out.” I stammered helplessly. “G-ddammit, Sara!” President Clinton yelled (he hated doing these and they generally put him in a bad mood), “What the hell do we pay you for if not to know this stuff?” I froze in my tracks. Did the President just use my name? He knew who I was? I was elated. Who cared that he was mad? He knew me!!!!

Eventually, I left Washington and put government work behind me (well, I am still heavily involved in politics but less directly so). I went to law school and began to despise discussing politics in public and cringed when my Washington friends brought up the topic. I stopped reading the newspaper on a daily basis and found myself more concerned about whether Husband and I can afford to buy a house than if Libby lied about knowing Plame was a CIA operative. My daily conversations with Oscar, the guy who hands out AM New York in the morning, involve sports, pets and the fact I never remember by hat on the days I really need it.

Oscar never calls me by name, preferring instead to use terms like Sweetheart and Darling. Still, I was a little disappointed since I had given him a Valentine’s Day card (signed with my name) and he still called my Sweetheart. I can’t take it personally. He sees so many people everyday and how can he keep them straight? Then, this morning, as I was telling him about my weekend trip to London, he laughed and said, “You are going to fall asleep at your desk and your boss is going to yell, ‘Sara, Sara’ and you are going to be so passed out you will not even hear it.” I froze in my tracks. Did Oscar just use my name? He knew who I was? I was elated. He knew me!!!!

It was then I realized that I was as excited that Oscar knew my name as I was back more than 10 years ago when President Clinton called me by name. And it occurred to me that I prefer that Oscar knows me because he actually knows me. And, I think that, if I walked up to former President Clinton, he would stare at me blankly, but if I went away and came back 10 years later, Oscar would flash me a giant smile and ask me if I still forgot my hat on cold days.

2007-02-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

Thirteen Reasons I am sad to say goodbye

I excitedly logged onto Thursday 13 this week only to see the following message, "There will be no fowarding address, and no change of hands in the Thursday Thirteen management. As the founder and creator, I get the heartwrenching decision of finalizing and closing the door to this baby of mine that I’ve nurtured for the last 81 weeks of my life." Yup, Thursday Thirteen is shutting down. So, without ado, here is my final Thursday 13.

1. I found interesting blogs I never would have otherwise discovered.

2. Thursday 13 felt like an online community and I found myself eagerly anticipating the list of some of its members.

3. I began to make lists in my head all week of 13 various things, wondering which I would use on Thursday.

4. Sometimes, 13 seems like a long list and sometimes, it was much too short.

5. Hopefully, Thursday 13 helped to find Kaos, a homeless dog, a loving place to call home. Or at least made people aware of her need for one.

6. No matter how wonderful or miserable my Thursday had become, someone else had a list the was happier or sadder. It made me feel normal.

7. People are really funny - even when they don't mean to be.

8. I used the code to start teaching myself a little HTML.

9. I learned about what people like to read on blogs and began altering non-Thursday Thirteen blogs to fit those topics.

10. Thursday Thirteen added a little color to my otherwise two-tone blog. (See, I am not that good at HTML yet...)

11. Because other posts are typed on word and cut and pasted into blogger, but this one is written into the template, I got really good at shielding my computer screen at work from prying eyes.

12. Writing the Thursday Thirteen always reminded me of every other thing I had to do that day.

13. I would get really excited everytime I remembered it was Thursday in time to participate in the Thursday 13!

This is the final Thursday 13, as the owner of the site is shutting it down. So, while I would love to have comments and hear from other 13'ers, there will be no link to them posted on this page this week. Just when I was getting into it too....

2007-02-20T14:58:00.000-08:00

MY ONLY COMPLAINT ABOUT MY COWORKERS IS THAT I CAN'T REALLY COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM

I don’t usually blog about work. I like my job and would prefer not to get fired over something I wrote, no matter how innocently I made the comment. That being said, today’s topic is about my co-workers.

I am really lucky when I think about the people with whom I work. I read blogs all the time about how other people’s co-workers are loud, gross, and inconsiderate. They constantly pass blame and horde praise. My office is most definitely not like that. Do I love everyone at work? Of course not. Are most of the people gems that outshine the few I dislike? Most definitely.

Friday and today were fabulous examples of the kind of camaraderie that makes Small Liberal Law Firm such a great place to work. On Friday, I was the among the busiest I had ever been at work. I had two briefs due on Friday and one today. There were simply not enough hours in the day. Veronica, one of my co-workers, stopped by my office and noticed my frazzled demeanor. Without hesitation, she took one of the briefs from me to work on herself. While I was really grateful for the help, I was also nervous. Veronica and I are not competing for partnership or plum projects, but its also hard to admit you can’t handle the work you have been given and I was nervous about what the Partner in charge would think. Turns out, Partner had no idea because instead of emailing her work to Partner at the end of the day and taking credit for saving the day, Veronica sent the finished brief to me to pass along. I forwarded it to Partner (with a note telling Partner how helpful Veronica had been) and managed to finish the other briefs in the allotted time.

And it wasn’t just Veronica (who even offered a hand with some of the more tedious duties such as cite checking and organizing exhibits), but others as well. Intern came in on her day off and helped to collate, staple, make minor edits and generally lend a hand. Doctor’s Wife (another associate) listened to me vent my frustration and Photogenic Friend offered me a beer when Friday ended – all fabulous co-worker gestures. Even the administrative staff went the extra mile in proof-reading, making untold amount of copies and double checking my work when I had been reading for too long.

When I used to work at Local Union, I found a couple of my co-workers to be helpful at crunch time, but mostly they were concerned for their own projects and did not offer to jump in (no, Wuzi, I am obviously not talking about you!). When they did help out, it was only if there was something back in return – credit, praise, ownership of the project, etc. Never just to help.

So, even though you folks will never read this since I don’t allow work people to have this URL, I just want to publicly say thanks. I literally could not have gotten through the last week without your help.

2007-02-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

Thirteen Things about Kaos by Farf

(My list is organge today because that is SWCNBN's most favorite color and I feel bad we haven't spoke in so long so this is a little tribute to her.)

1. In July 2006, Jenna and her dog, Snickers, met a homeless man this named Benedict. He has a 6 month old puppy named Kaos. Kaos is one well-kept, good looking dog and she was clearly devoted to Benedict.

2. Benedict said he took her from a man that was training her for the dog fights. (For those of you that don’t live in NYC, yes, we have underground dog fights here). Anyway, Benedict took Kaos away from that takes very good care of her. His backpack, which was mostly all he had, was full of dog food. Kaos was healthy and had been given distemper, parvo and rabies shots.

3. Kaos stands for "Kicks Ass On Spot", which is just that much cuter because she’s such a sweet dog.

4. In November 2006, Kaos and Benedict relied onthe help of friends and dog lovers to get a flight to Miami so they could leave NYC before it got too cold for Kaos. (Dogs are not allowed in shelters).

5. In February 2007, Benedict left Kaos at a human homeless shelter and didn’t return for her, so they called Animal Services. Something must have happened to him. The shelter had his name and everything, so it’s not like he dropped her and ran. Anyway, he didn’t go back, she went into the shelter, and he hasn’t tried to get her out.

6. A person in South Georgia (500 miles from Miami) offered to foster Kaos for a week.

7. We can transport Kaos to anyone who would be able to offer her a forever home.

8. Kaos is fabulous with other dogs and, when she went to the vet, Kaos was SO GOOD with the other dogs in the waiting room. Another dog there was aggressively barking at her, but Kaos took it all in stride.

9. Kaos is a big dog and therefore considered 'unadoptable' by most shelters. This greatly increases the chances that she will be euthenized if brought to an animal shelter.

10. Kaos has a full and loving life ahead of her and does not deserve to die just because she had the bad luck to be left in the care of someone who was not responsible for her.

11. You can read all about Kaos and see more pictures by clicking on Jenna's website at http://nycgadgetgirl.com/jg/tales_of_kaos/

12. I would be willing to help defray the cost of anyone who could adopt this sweet baby.

13. Kaos needs a forever home (or at the least, long term foster care). If you can help, please comment and I will email you directly.

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. L^2

2. The Bluest Butterfly

3. Peg

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