THE BAR-MITZVAH AS A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE

I strongly identify as Jewish and even say prayers in my head every night before going to bed (usually just the Shema, although I also try to get through the Ashrai before I fall asleep). This goes back to my limited experience as a student at a Yeshiva called the Hebrew Academy from nursery school through 2nd grade. A teacher, Mrs. Burger, told us to say the prayers every night before bed and, since I loved her and wanted to make her proud of me, I started what became a lifelong habit. I even generally enjoy going to services (even if it is only 3x a year). I like the sense of community and of knowing the words to prayers that have been said for hundreds of years. There is something comforting, to me anyway, of holding a prayer book and reading the words.

Husband, on the other hand, is an atheist. He is Jewish by birth and went to Hebrew School until 13, when he became a Bar Mitzvah, but since then he has stepped in a Synagogue a total of 5 times – all for Bar Mitzvahs and weddings. Husband’s family is not very religious either, but despite some push and pull over Rosh Hashana, we have worked things out nicely in this respect with compromises on both sides. And, Husband has agreed to a unified front on religious matters (with me leading the charge) when we have kids, so I am not concerned.

I bring all this us because yesterday, Husband’s cousin was called to the torah as a Bar Mitzvah. The affair was wonderful (more food I have never seen!) and the Bar Mitzvah boy did a spectacular job with his Haftorah. And, if two specific incidents had not occurred yesterday, this post would be all about how every event should be capped off with freshly made cotton candy.

First, Husband was called to the Torah for an aliya during the service. This is a huge honor (one you usually know about in advance although we did not) where the person says the prayer before and after the reading of a certain portion of the Torah. Husband’s response to being tapped for this honor was to respond in horror, “Are you kidding me?” but the rabbi assured him the words were transliterated and he would be guided along. They allowed me to come up and accompany him. Now, poor Husband had never had such an honor and has no clue as to the prayers. I know them by heart. So, I joined in and sung in my loud, but off key voice, while Husband mumbled next to me. At the end, the rabbi shook my hand and told me I was wonderful. Then he turned to Husband and admonished him that he needed work. If my insisting on refraining from bread during Passover made me the most religious member of my new family, this sealed me as “super Jew.”

Then, during the reception, Husband’s cousin and mother of the Bar Mitzvah boy asked me if she should ask Husband’s uncle to say the ha-motzi (usual prayer over bread and often done to begin a meal) since he was the oldest male family member. See, one good aliya and I am already the go to person. I told her this was customary but when she asked him, he refused since he did not know the prayer. She then asked me if I would do it. I told her I would be honored, but since I was the newest family member, if she gave me 5 minutes, I would teach it to Husband and he could do it. Husband agreed and I began in Hebrew. “Barukh atah Adonai Elohaynu melekh ha-olam
ha-motzi…” when suddenly Husband exclaimed, “lechem min ha-aretz! I know this one!!!!” He did the prayer in front of everyone and I was so proud.

And see, that’s the thing. Despite Husband’s atheism, tradition is important. Being called to the Torah is an honor and someone should be able to say a prayer over bread and begin a meal at a religious event. Before yesterday, I looked at religion in my family all wrong. I had always been nervous because Husband would never lead a Seder or take the lead in religious events, but that doesn’t mater because I can do it just like I did the aliya. Just because my father led any family services does not mean my husband has to do the same. And, in those rare circumstances where it is more appropriate for Husband to take the lead, it is nice to know he is willing and that in some cases he even remembers the words.

I GUESS THE ONLY OPTION NOW IS THAT DARN APPLE A DAY...

I stole a co-workers space heater so my fingers have finally thawed enough to type.

Six year ago I needed shots for a trip to Peru and my sister introduced me to the man who became my general practitioner. I love him. I have never said that about a doctor before. I hate doctors. I am terrified of them and my blood pressure shoots up considerably when around one. This is not something I can understate. My doctors watch me crumple into a crying mess, huddled in the corner in fear as soon as they enter the room. This is because the thing I am most terrified of in life is needles and, even when I don’t need a shot or blood work done, I am convinced the doctor will suddenly order it.

I am so scared that once, after fainting several times on the street, I refused medical treatment because it would require an IV. (Note: The medical intervention was clearly not required since the fainting never happened again).

This is why I love Dr. Jason Kendler. He understands my phobia and never requires unnecessary medication or injections. He even gave me a strategy for handling the epi-pen shots I need to give myself if I accidentally ingest a peanut (and his strategy of deep breaths and relaxation works better then the previous method of waiting until I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen).

I also love Dr. Kendler because he is a good person. He really cares about his patients. Once, when I was first dating Husband, I had an ultra-conservative OBGYN who required me to come into the office in order to obtain the morning after pill. She did not have an appointment available until the following week. Despite my pleas (and explanation that the morning after pill was not effective a week later) she refused to change her mind. I called Dr. Kendler and explained the situation. Thirty minutes later there was a prescription waiting for me at the local Duane Reade. He then referred me to a new OBGYN.

I could go on and on about all the wonderful things Dr. Kendler has done for me and how great he has been when I am sick (not to mention how cute he is!) but it makes me sad because he can no longer be my doctor. I recently found out that Dr. Kendler is leaving to start is own practice and will not be taking my insurance. I am devastated. I am seriously considering paying out of pocket to see him, but know that is ridiculous.

I would follow Dr. Kendler’s practice anywhere. I would travel to Westchester or Battery Park City to see him and, in this case, I wouldn’t have to. He is a mere cross town bus ride (or $5 cab ride) from my home. So convenient and yet unavailable to me.

So, I guess this is good-bye. Hopefully, I won’t get sick anytime in the near future since I am too scared to see anyone else.

(Note: I am also switching my dentist for health insurance reasons but am not nearly as heartbroken about it.)

AT LEAST I WORE GLOVES INSTEAD OF MITTENS

According to weather.com, the temperature in NYC right now feels like -5 degrees. Despite having a 70 degree day less than a month ago, it is now freezing. I love that the weather is finally acting normal, but I have one major issue – there is no heat in my office and a draft coming through the window. While I expect to wear a hat, scarf and gloves outside, I am sitting typing this in my coat and gloves. It makes blogging very hard and working even harder…

Thirteen Things about Farf 1…. When I got married last year, I struggled over the decision whether to change my name and only decided to change it when my husband told me he did not care either way. 2…. I am jealous over my sister's sense of style and how she always looks perfectly put together - even when she rolls out of bed on a Sunday morning. 3…. Last night, I got onto the wrong train heading home and did not realize until I got to Queens. 4…. The reason I did not notice I was on the wrong train is that I was fascinated watching the drunk guy who was passed out across a bench snore loudly and with his mouth open. 5…. The reason I am not losing weight on my diet as fast as I should be is because every day at 3pm I eat two oreos. 6…. Fashion magazines have convinced me that if I lose 10 pounds I will be happy for the future but Nabisco ads have convinced me that if I eat two Oreos I will be happy now. 7…. Only several people at work know I blog and no one has the web address. Despite this, I am tereified of being fired so I almost never write about work. 8…. If I were to write about work, my first post would include how my office is freezing cold and often I walk around the library pretending to do research just to get warm. 9…. My favorite advertisement currently on TV is the Wendy's ad where the guy has the itty bitty soda, shakes it and whispers $2.99. It cracks me up. 10…. Sometime I am afraid my husband prefers the dog to me. 11…. My confidence level is a direct reflection of how my nails looks. 12…. I wear fake nails sometimes. 13…. I asked my sister to come up with the thirteenth thing about me and she refused. Links to other Thursday Thirteens!1. Janean 2. Amy 3. Suki 4. Raggedy 5. Kimo & Sabi (Leave your comment and I will add a link to you here.)

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BE HONEST, WOULD YOU RATHER WATCH BUSH OR HUGH HEFNER?

Last night, for the first time in 14 years, I did not watch the State of the Union. In fact, I did not even remember it was on until it was almost over and by then there was no point in watching, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t.

This is not even a commentary on George Bush but a general, “I can’t gather the energy to care anymore” commentary. Yes, I read the newspapers and know what is going on in Iraq. I keep appraised of who is running for what office and their opinions, but having been out of Washington, DC for almost 7 years now, I no longer care about the day to day stuff and, frankly, I find it boring. As such, I am no longer friends with many people I knew in DC, since DC people tend to only talk about politics. I am sorry to all of those folks I bored to death in the past.

Instead of the State of the Union, I watched Girls Next Door – the delightful reality television show about Hugh Hefner’s three 20-something girlfriends and their life in the Playboy Mansion. The girls are so dumb that you can’t help but watch them and laugh, which is, of course, the point of the show.

Last’s night’s episode involved Hef’s mid-summer lingerie party and the upcoming preparations. It also involved a make-over of a sister of one of the girlfriends (they were pretty much interchangeable so I am not sure which was which). During this episode, the sister gets a complete make-over from a cute curly-haired girl with reddish-brown hair and a causal way of dressing, into another Hef girlfriend clone. This is supposed to be an improvement.

Anyway, since there will be no State of the Union commentary from me this year, I thought I would do a Girls Next Door commentary. So, here goes: I find it amazing that these three girls all love together as best friends while dating the same guy. There appears (and this is my first episode so I may be wrong) that there is no jealousy or back stabbing. Everyone loves Hef and he loves everyone and they are all happy.

Also, during the waxing, one of the girls referred to unshaved public hair as a “power muff.” This did not stop her from getting waxed, but she seemed a little excited at the idea of using the term power muff. This was not bleeped out. However, when the waxer asked the sister if she would like her labia waxed, the word labia was bleeped. So, slang for pubes is totally acceptable but apparently the correct terminology for a female body part can not make it past the FCC censors. I thought that was interesting.

Anyway, I am not sure if there are other Girls Next Door watchers out there, but I would love to know why you watch the show and if the girls ever fight…

FOREST GUMP WAS WRONG - BLOG FOR CHOICE

Forrest Gump only had it partially right. Life is like a box of chocolates, but it’s not true that you never know what you are going to get. You can keep poking the middle until you get the one you like. You have a choice in almost everything and the decision whether to have a child is no different.

Today is Blog for Choice Day, which works out well since I am completely incensed at an article in this week’s New York Times Magazine about so-called Post Abortion Trauma. The story features a woman named Rhonda Arias who spends Saturdays “helping women at the prison who have had abortions to understand how that procedure has stained them, and how it explains what has gone wrong in their lives.”

I am vehemently pro-choice. I think abortion should be not only legal but also readily available to a woman of any age and economic means. But I do more than just believe this. I put my beliefs into action and, with the help of Suzanne and a network of almost 100 volunteers, I run Haven Coalition. As many readers of this blog know, Haven provides women forced to travel to New York City to obtain a second trimester abortion with a safe place to sleep, transportation to and from the clinic, and a meal.

But, despite this, and unlike some of my fellow pro-choice activists, I can respect the sincerely-held opinions of anti-choice folks who truly believe that abortion is murder. Well, I respect them when their activities include things like expanding education for economically disadvantaged teens and teaching birth control.

The people who really make me mad, who really make my blood boil, are the ones like Ms. Arias in the New York Magazine story. Women who have had abortions and now regret the choice they made so they work to deprive everyone else of the same options.

Read - if you can stomach it – the except below:

[A]fter the [abortion in 1973], Arias says, strange feelings washed over her. “I remember having evil thoughts, about hurting children,” she said. “It was like I’d done the worst thing I could possibly do. A piece of evil had entered
me.”

In 1983, Arias became pregnant again and planned to keep the baby. But in the fourth month, she says, she became scared about raising a child alone. She called her obstetrician. He scheduled her for a second-trimester saline abortion the following morning. Arias said she woke up from the anesthesia to the certain knowledge that she had killed her child.

Because of this knowledge, she is now equally certain, she slipped into years of depression, drinking and freebasing cocaine… In her mind, all of her troubles — the drugs, the suicide attempt, the third and fourth abortions she went on to have, the wrestling match of a marriage she eventually entered — are the aftermath of her own original sin, the 1973 abortion. It’s a pattern she sees reflected everywhere: “In America we have a big drug problem, and we don’t realize it’s because of abortion.”

So let me understand: Ms. Arias has an abortion regretted it and then went on to have 3 more abortions? And, after the 4th abortion she realized what she was doing was wrong and now wants to keep other women from making the same mistake? Is she kidding???? How about a little introspection?

I do not deny that some people may regret their abortions. But, I see it more as a reflection of a culture that does not understand the there are some people who will always regret the choices they make – and, if abortion were more accessible and people were given better access to information, some of those people could have made informed decisions about whether or not to have a child.

Now, as the article points out, “[a]bortion-recovery counselors like Arias could focus on why women don’t have the material or social support they need to continue pregnancies they might not want to end. They could call for improving the circumstances of women’s lives in order to reduce the number of abortions. Instead they are working to change laws to restrict and ban abortion.” And, in restricting a choice from others, that they themselves were free to exercise, people like Ms. Arias prey on the most vulnerable members of society and make them believe that all of their issues stem from having an abortion. If Ms. Arias felt so bad about the first abortion, why did she go on to have 3 more? If she really wants to help incarcerated women, why doesn’t she focus on job skills and re-entry into society?

And, for all the people who may have regretted their decision (whether it was true regret or one foisted on them by “helpful” people such as Ms. Arias, there are also many people who are not sorry. Check out their stories at http://imnotsorry.net.

And in the end, I am pro-choice because there should always be a choice. Regret your abortion and need counseling? Fine. Celebrate your abortion and the new lease on life it gave you? Even better.

LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW...

A couple weekends ago, as many of you may remember, it was 70 degrees in NYC. I spent the weekend outside in Central Park and thought to myself, “I love this global warming thing.” Then it got cold (okay, not Midwest cold or even typical NY mid-January cold, but I needed a hat, scarf and gloves) and I was miserable. But then, this morning, it snowed a little and some of that snow actually stuck around for a couple hours. And I realized that as much as I love warm days, I also love snow and the winter.

I walked the dog to Biscuits and Bath to drop him off at doggie day care this morning. There is nothing unusual about this and Tiki and I do this walk daily. He doesn’t even sniff and explore on the walk anymore. He pees and poops in the same place daily and by this point, we see the same dogs doing the same morning walk that Tiki does not even try and play with them. Frankly, the walk had gotten a little boring for both of us.

But this morning things were different. Tiki walked outside and stopped in his tracks. He sniffed and pawed at the mysterious white substance on the ground. He licked it and some was stuck on his nose. He put a paw down and seemed surprised at the texture (or maybe temperature). I kicked some of the snow on the ground and Tiki chased the flakes. A child threw a snowball and Tiki lunged for it. The look on his face when the “ball” crumpled in his mouth was priceless. I would have done anything for a camera at that moment.

In response to the inevitable question: Yes. Tiki has seen snow before. We had a major snowfall last February and Tiki played and jumped in the snow banks. But he was only 4 months old and his time outside was limited. Plus, I think he had just forgotten how wonderful everything is when covered in snow – even if only a light dusting.

And that’s the thing. If, on some level, I did not love winter as much as summer, I would be living in Miami or LA. While I loved the warm days, I did not realize how much I missed winter until I got my first real reminder this morning of exactly what I was missing. I think Tiki was not the only one who had forgotten the wonders of winter’s first snowfall.

BEAUJOULAIS AND BORDEAUX

An interesting shift has taken place lately. I have written a lot about trying to whittle down my list of friends to only those people I actually like (or who like me back) and about making new friends as an adult. However, in the last day or so, I have randomly heard from old friends with whom I have lost touch, and in some cases gone the extra step of rekindling those friendships.

It all started a few months ago when I received an anonymous post on this blog. I discovered the poster was none other than my friend Tina, from high school. We started emailing and I love being back in touch with her. Even though we live 3,000 miles apart and had not spoken in more than 10 years, emailing with her felt as though no time had passed. Now only to convince her to come east for a long weekend….

Then, on Tuesday, I was at the gym and happened to wear my oldest and most favorite t-shirt. It was given to me on the day I learned of my admission to Loomis Chaffee for high school and is something like 17 years old. A woman in the locker room stopped me to tell me that she had also gone to Loomis and after a minute or two of conversation, we realized she had been friendly with my big cousin. I forgot to ask her what her name was. (Sorry Chris!)

Yesterday, Ryan (another high school friend and one that I have remained in sporadic contact with) emailed a group of people with this Jet Blue ad. The person pictured in the ad was Tina’s prom date and a class behind us at Loomis. Because all of our email addresses were listed in the cc field (as opposed to B’cc), I received an email from my high school boyfriend, Eric. Readers of this blog know that back in September, I wrote a post wondering what happened to the boys I dated in high school. It turns out Eric is alive and well and living in the DC-metro area. I wrote back to him and also added a few emails to some other folks on this list such as Rachel, Leigh and Martha. I really hope I hear back from all of them, although I am not sure I will.

This little turn of events was interesting enough to write about, but this morning really clinched it. I was walking down the subway platform, oblivious to everything around me when all of a sudden, I heard someone call my name. Now, I am generally the worst person at recognizing faces of people I have not seen in a while, but I immediately gave a little squeal of delight and called back, “Lisa!” I have seen Lisa once in the last eight or so years (reading this post it is amazing how time rushes by without my noticing). She moved to NY first and we lost touch gradually, but I had always missed her and thought about her, which is not something I often do with people. She is also a newlywed and had left politics to work for my favorite magazine. We live a mere block from each other and it turns out, I have met her dog, Monte, on the street while walking Tiki. (Not sure whether the person walking the dog was her husband or dog walker though). Immediately we are back in touch and making plans for the next week.

So, even if I never hear back from the Loomis Chaffee set and my friendship with Lisa fades back (although this time, for some unexplainable reason, I don’t think it will), the timing of hearing from everyone is fantastic. If Wingin’ it is correct in his comments on a previous post and “some friendships are like a good beaujoulais...drink it while it's young then throw away the bottle and savor the memories” then it is equally true that maybe some friendships are more like a Bordeaux….in the beginning they are nothing exciting but if you come back to it when you are both a little older, they can be amazing.

BLOG FOR CHOICE

Monday is the 34th anniversary of Roe v. Wade and NARAL is arranging Blog for Choice Day. If you want to write about what legal abortion means to you on Jan. 22, click on the link to sign up and your blog will be linked on their site as a participant. They also provide the code to copy and paste in your post for the cool graphic that I otherwise could not have posted in this to get your attention, as I do not really understand this crazy internet code thing.

Suzanne will also have an article coming out soon on this topic. I am actually just on a little tiny break from depositions, but in the meantime I wanted everyone in the loop.

I WISH FOR WORLD PEACE...AND FOR SOMEONE TO TELL ME HOW TO MAKE IT HAPPEN

Last night Husband and I went to see Blood Diamond. As I sat in the theater, acutely aware of the diamond rings on my finger and the diamond studs in my ears, I took away the message that although the person from whom my diamonds were purchased certified them as “conflict-free,” you can never really tell where a diamond was mined and I am likely wearing these diamonds at the cost of someone’s life. But, while I sat there feeling guilty (admittedly, a fleeting guilt since I am wearing those same stones today), I also took away the message from the film that there is really nothing I can do (besides ask for a conflict-free certification for my diamonds, which I already do).

For some reason, the problems in Africa have been a particular focus for me lately. I recently finished “What is the What” and have been reading articles and watching documentaries about the conflict in Darfur. I wrote a $100 check to a relief organization and, for a brief moment, felt good about myself.

I remember learning about the Holocaust and the death of 6 million Jews. I remember my Hebrew School teacher lecturing us that the true evil at the time was not Hitler, but that the rest of the world stood by and did nothing. Now, I find myself in the same situation.

While I have been alive, genocide has been an on-going problem. Without even going into conflicts in the Middle East, approximately 2 million people have been killed in Sudan, 200,000 in Bosnia-Herzegovina, and one million in Rwanda. I was not a small child in during these conflicts, but an adult who could act on behalf of others. Yet I did not.

Why? Well, what can I do? I donate money and goods to groups like UNHCR but other than that, there really is no way to help. It’s not as though I can fly off to some far away land and broker peace talks. And, Hebrew School Teacher made it clear to us that it was the fault of individuals as well as governments.

While I have no problem blaming the various governments, the UN and NGOs, for not getting involved sooner in conflicts and stopping them before then escalate, as an individual, I have little power.

“Save Darfur!” the banner at the JCC declares. Sure. I am all for it. I just wish someone would tell me how.

IT'S NOT ME, IT'S YOU

So my girl date did not happen this weekend. This time N had to work, which was not awful because I was exhausted after spending the weekend at Mohegan Sun. It was a surprise party for Sister’s 30th birthday and a group of her best friends met us at the spa and hung out together Saturday night. I could not write about it before since Sister reads this blog daily. On the other hand, N and I spent over an hour on the phone and she suggested that we have dinner Friday night and invite our respective husbands so they could discuss football or some equally boring topic together. I think N’s husband and mine will get along well since they gave similar answers when N and I were on the phone making plans. Both essentially asked the same question, “There is a football game on. Why are you talking to me?” Like I said, they should get along fine.

I am really excited to make a new friend since it is so hard to do so as an adult, and lately, I have been phasing out friends who I hang around with out of habit so there are less and less people with whom I speak on a regular basis. For example, I have only spoken to P once since Christmas and that conversation lasted less then 10 minutes. Also, I did not call FL Friend on her birthday this year (although that was more an oversight since I was at Sister’s surprise spa weekend and I did try her last night) nor did I send her a gift when she had her newest baby.

Don’t get me wrong. I like doing nice things for friends and when FL Friend had her first baby, I sent a really thoughtful present. But, an interesting thing about having a wedding is that you see who likes doing nice things for you.

Husband and I were married on May 6, 2006. Technically, people have a year to buy us gifts and we have a year to write thank-you notes. However, all our thank you notes were completed by July (except for those for gifts that arrived after then, naturally) and we have pretty much figured that if someone has not bought us a gift yet, we are not getting one.

Some of the people who did not buy us a gift are expected and I do not fault them.
There is my high school friend who grew up as part of my family and lives in California as a writer. The mere fact he flew to NY and celebrated with us was gift enough. Or Husband’s high school friend who has never bought anyone a gift and lives at home with his parents after losing his job and apartment all within a year. But then there is CA couple that recently got married themselves. Husband and I flew to California and attended the wedding and even bought them a nice present (hoping it would serve as a reminder) but although we received a thank you note for the gift we purchased, they did not reciprocate the gesture. And CT friend for whom I lavish gifts on her children at every opportunity, but did not even buy a card. Or, FL friend who did not come to the wedding or buy a present. So no new baby gift for her.

The thing is, you can never mention the lack a of a present as a reason for talking to someone less and less since that would be considered rude, and at the same time I am also not asking to be given anything expensive – just a token acknowledging the event. And what makes it so much worse is that the people who neglected to buy us presents seem to be the ones for whom I spent the most effort over the years. Like a DC friend who spent many a night on my couch when he did not want to be home and who once told me once that I was his best friend. He is an attorney who makes a decent living so its not as though a sterling silver serving spoon would set him back too much.

Is it wrong to gauge how meaningful someone considers our friendship by whether or not he/she sent us a wedding present? I suppose there is something a little twisted about that, but on the other hand, even a card would suffice as acceptable.

So, if you find your phone calls returned less and less, a lack of holiday gifts for your children (who have never sent a thank you note anyway) or no new baby gift waiting for you when you return from the hospital, think about whether you have done anything to deserve it. Think about whether you have made it worthwhile for me to really be your friend. Sure, I am sad to lose you, but I will get over it. And in the meantime, you may find me having a drink with N and the new friends I am making.

THINGS THE PISS ME OFF

I woke up in a fabulous mood this morning, got to work and watched my fabulous mood slide away. No one actually *did* anything to make me mad, it was just the little things that add up. First, there was no skim milk for the coffee. Is this petty? Totally, but I like my coffee with skim (whole milk makes my coffee taste too thick). Then, I walk into my office and the water bottle on my desk (yes, the germ covered water bottle that I have faithfully continued to refill from the fountain for the last several weeks) was gone – clearly thrown out by the cleaning staff. Now, I know that people say you should replace these bottles frequently, but I hate replacing my water bottle on a Friday when that means it will sit in the office collecting more germs over a long weekend. So, I decided not to buy a new water and am thus, sitting at my desk slowly dying of dehydration.

I have no reason to be in a bad mood. I am heading to a spa tomorrow for a day of pampering, have an out-of-town friend visiting tonight and then am spending Sunday having an awesome lunch followed by my girl date. I am 6 pounds from my target weight. Plus, no work on Monday. And, even better, Husband bought me a ticket to London to visit Mara and I am so excited I don’t even care that the flight is on American Airlines and I have to fly them a mere two months after vowing to be done with them forever. Who cares because I…am…going….to….London!!!! Whoo Hoo!!!!!

However, I am cranky so I decided to blog today about things the annoy me. Not big things like racism or the drycleaner losing the jacket to your favorite suit, but those little things that turn a good mood into a foul mood.

Food: I am allergic to peanuts. If I ask you if something has nuts, do not guess. And, people who do not realize the peanut butter cookies contain nuts are just stupid. I really prefer not to die because someone else is a moron – although likely, that it how it will happen. Oh, and is it too much to ask that if I put a sandwich in the work refrigerator that you don’t put your frozen entrée on top of it and smoosh it? Think people! Our work fridge is bigger then my one at home and there is tons of space. Use a different shelf or move my sandwich.

Subway: Walk left, stand right! It is really not that hard. And, move all the way into the train. Otherwise it’s your fault when I bang into you trying to get on so stop glaring at me.

Phone calls: If you call my home phone and I do not answer, it is acceptable to call my cell. However, if I don’t answer my cell, do not call my home phone again. If I am not home, I am not likely to be home a few seconds later and if I did not answer either call, I clearly have no interest in talking to you at that moment. Besides, I never check my home phone messages anyway.

Friends/Family: People who excuse the rude behavior of another by saying “Oh, ignore it. You know how ____ is.” Fine. If I have to make excuses for you because you are rude and everyone puts up with it, then make the same excuse for me when I get mad and put up with it.

Hmmm. You know this exercise has been a little cathartic. My mood is no longer bad. Plus, while writing this I ate my smooshed sandwich (which was still tasty – brie, swiss sprouts, tomato and honey-mustard on a croissant.) and finally bought a bottle of water. Not bad.

MY GIRL DATE

I have been a lazy blogger lately and, I have to admit it’s because I have gone through life for the last few days simply out of routine. You know where you call up an old friend you haven’t spoken to in a while and then realize you have nothing to tell her? Well, that is how I have been feeling.

Mostly, this is due to my insane work schedule the last week or so. I have been billing an average of 10 hours a day (and remember, not all time at the office is billable!). Yes, I know to big corporate lawyers like Husband and Father, this is nothing, but to little old me, it is insane.

The worst part of the recent work schedule involved the cancellation of a social appointment to which I was very much looking forward – my “girl date” with N. Husband and I met N and her husband when we all coincidentally signed up for a couples cooking class at the JCC. The fact that N still wanted to be friends after she witnessed Husband and Brother-in-Law cracking up at jokes that no one else thinks are funny, is a testament to the fact that she must be incredibly tolerant.

Anyway, N was wearing a fabulous Burberry coat (seriously, I have been coveting it for months!) and I complimented her on it and then we started talking. We exchanged email addresses and made plans to grab a glass (or two) of wine on Monday night. Sadly, I worked until almost 11pn so I had to cancel. N was totally good natured (her husband has a job similar to Husband’s job and thus, she is used to work interfering with social plans).

We rescheduled our girl date so at least we can still have can have to get to know each other over a bottle of wine, but I looked really cute. I was in a suit for work, but it was flattering and trendy and I even wore make-up and blew out my hair (Sister would be proud!). I was more nervous for this date then for any date I’ve ever been on with a boy.

I know some would say it is ridiculous that I went to so much trouble for someone that, if they are to really become my friend, needs to like me for me and not for my clothing, but I was nervous. Making new acquaintances is easy, but making new friends is hard and I wanted to make a good impression.

So we are rescheduled for Sunday evening. Now, what to wear….

SISTER IS 30!!!!!

Happy Birthday Sister! Today is Sister’s 30th birthday. I am really excited for her to turn 30. I do not like being the only one of my siblings to be my 30’s and since 30 was such an awesome year for me, I am hoping Sister’s year will be similar.

Birthday celebrations abound. Tonight the entire family (Mother, Father, Sister, Brother and Husband) are having dinner at Dos Caminos to celebrate the beginning of her third decade. Then tomorrow night a group of friends are continuing the Mexican food birthday with Margaritas at Mi Niditos. Finally, on the 13th of January, Mother, Sister and I are heading to Mohegan Sun for a spa weekend. (The spa weekend is also a belated Mother’s Day gift).

Happy birthday, Sister. I have known you your entire life and am very excited for you. If nothing else, your hair is more manageable!

Sister in 1977

MY NEW BIKE

Husband bought me a bicycle for Hanukkah this year (among other things). It is a Specialized Sirrus Sport bike and I love it.

I went riding on Saturday and Sunday of this weekend and, despite the realization that I am totally out of shape, had a blast. I even went so far as to research when Central Park is closed to cars (7pm-7am M-F and all day on weekends) so I know when I can safely ride in the park (I am not so skilled as to want to battle rush hour traffic).

I had a bike before this one. It was a Specialized Rockhopper and I loved it. But alas, it was stolen out of the bike storage room in my old apartment building, despite having several locks and being wrapped in a chain. This is NYC and I knew the risks of leaving a nice bike out of my sight, even if it was in a locked room in my apartment building. The new bike has no lock and chain for the simple reason that it will never be stored anywhere but inside my apartment. And, I am not using it for commuting purposes so it will never have to be locked during the day.

Besides being a very cool new toy, my new bike is an essential component in my plan to be back in shape by August 18th, when Wuzi gets married. I want to look like I did at my wedding (not the dress and make-up, but the chiseled arms and tight butt) for hers. I am back to the gym and thinking of going back to boot camp.

Last night I skipped an appointment with my personal trainer in order to have dinner with Husband. I rarely get to have dinner with Husband so I consider it a worthy trade-off, but I need to go back to when the gym was an appointment I kept as though it was work-related. And, I am back on my diet. No more dessert and no more fried foods. It is a sad fact that I am happier when I am thinner. Not just vanity but also because I feel good about myself and the diet, biking and general exercise plan gets me there.

I think the trick is to come up with an exercise plan that is also fun. That is why the bike is so perfect. I rode six miles on both Saturday and Sunday (I would have done more but without the proper shorts my tooshie really hurt!) and am eagerly waiting for my next ride.

Now if only I can convince Sister to go back to boot camp….

THIS YEAR I RESOLVE NOTHING

Usually I hate New Year’s resolutions. Well, actually, I pretty much despise New Year’s. It’s never as much fun as you think it should be, drinks are overpriced and dinners out are prix fix. Plus, living in NYC means that hordes of drunken teenagers will descend and heading anywhere near Times Square will be more unpleasant than it usually is.

But, of all the things wrong with New Years, resolutions are the worst. For the next few weeks my gym will likely be crowded with people who “vow to lose 10 pounds this year” and will hopefully give up in a few weeks so I can go back to running on my favorite treadmill instead of having to wait in line.

That being said, I did once try and make a New Year’s resolution. I tried to be nicer and less judgmental of people I did not know. It lasted until 12:00:02am when Dick Clark’s sidekick came on TV and I turned to Cousin Ado and asked, “Who is that slut?” Well, at least I could go through the rest of the year without trying to keep that resolution – it was clearly a lost cause.

PUERTO RICO – A THREE PART OPERA

Part I – NEVER USE HOTEL ROOM GLASSES

I used to work for Local Union representing hotel workers. While the job itself was miserable for a variety of reasons, I grew to love the intracacies of the hotel business and was very passionate about my job. The best part of the job was talking to workers in the hotels and learning what really went on behind the scenes. For instance, did you know that many room attendants only have 22 minutes to clean a room and to cut corners, some hotel chains have the room attendants rinse and put back the glasses on the sinks rather than actually cleaning them? I never use the glasses nor do I touch the bedspread. I know too much about the disgusting things that on probably on/in them.

Despite my hotel paranoia, I loved Puerto Rico. Really, what’s not to love? Sun. Beach. Cool Waterfalls. Delicious food. Awesome history. And the ocean.

There is nothing I love more than swimming in the ocean. Something about bobbing in the waves makes me feel relaxed and its hard not to consider just how small and insignificant each person really is when compared to the expanse of the Atlantic. But mostly, its just clean fun, unlike the hotel glasses which are probably filthy.

Part II – PISS OFF

On the first day in Puerto Rico, I relaxed on the beach with my book while Brother and Father went for a swim. It began to rain slightly and I packed up my towels to head inside when I saw Brother and Father coming out of the water with Brother holding his hand. Seems that they had been playing in the water when Brother had seen what he thought was a pretty blue leaf bobbing in the waves and grabbed it. Unfortunately for Brother, the “pretty little blue thing” was not a leaf but a jellyfish and Brother was stung.

Quite the trooper, he did not cry or scream (I am seriously impressed by this as I have been stung and I cried and screamed). Brother simply went to the snack bar area and asked if they had a first aid kit. They gave him some white vinegar to pour on his hand, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain. The guy at the snack bar suggested he “pee on it” because the ammonia in urine helps. Sadly, Brother had gone to the bathroom (in a toilet, not on his hand) just minutes before and could not muster out a drop. It fell to me, his loyal and small-bladdered sister to do it for him. But, we are a little old to pee directly on each other so I peed in one of those glasses on the bathroom counter and brother poured it over his hand. Now he was screaming because he was thoroughly grossed out. Sadly, it did not help. But it sure was funny.

Poor Brother. When I got back I did a little research on urine and jellyfish stings. Turns out, it doesn’t help. Anytime anyone says it does, it’s purely psychosomatic. Hahaha. Now I peed on my brother without medicinal benefit. That’s even better!

Part III – GEORGIA TECH UPDATE

Immediately following my peeing into a cup and having Brother convinced that the only way to stop pain was to pour my urine onto his hand, I told him (gasping through laughter) that I would have to blog about this incident. Brother was instantly humiliated and promised my online silence. I told him that the image of his pouring my still warm urine on his hand was too good not to share. We struck a deal. In exchange for my being allowed to tell the world how I peed on my brother, I would write about whether or not Chan Gailey is the right coach for Georgia Tech. So here goes…

I went onto Georgia Tech blogs and even checked out some by rival University of Georgia (you should always know what the enemy is saying about you) and I have come to the conclusion that Chan Gailey is about an effective a coach for GT as Tom Coughlin is for the Giants. In other words, he should be sent packing. Now, a Chan Gaily fan may ask why I would think this. After all, GT is playing a a bowl game this year and has had a relatively successful year. In fact, in his first four years at Georgia Tech, Gaily has compiled a 28-21 record, and two victories in bowl games: the 2003 Humanitarian Bowl (a 52-10 win over the University of Tulsa), and the 2004 Champs Sports Bowl (a 51-14 victory over Syracuse University). In five seasons, Gailey has never defeated the team Tech considers its biggest rival, the University of Georgia. Georgia Tech has been to bowl games each year under Gailey. The 2006 season underway has been the most successful to date.

But, he has lost the respect of players and fans and when that happends, a downhill slide is inevitable. First, he ceded his play calling to offensive coordinator Patrick Nix and claims that it worls better for him because he has more time to “just hang out with everyone.” Hello? You are a coach. Not a best friend. Your job is to instill discipline and motivation and make the Yellow Jackets the best they can be. If someone else is calling plays, it’s because you are out of touch with how the game should be played.

Sure there is a spot for Gaily on the team –he can be fashion consultant. Apparently the players approve of his choice to let them wear black socks with their uniforms. So, maybe Gaily is right for GT after all, as long as he is only allowed to make decisions on things like socks and leaves the play calling in the hands of those that know better.

I HATE AMERICAN AIRLINES.

I returned this morning from a fantastic holiday in Puerto Rico, marred only by my experience in dealing with American Airlines. (PR stories to follow in later post). If you want to read about crazy fun loving family vacations, skip this post. If you want to read about why I will never fly America Airlines again and, in fact, will actively work to convince others to never fly them, read on…

Generally, my airline of choice is Delta. Husband and I have tons of Delta miles and use them (or a Delta partner) for most of our travel. We fly regularly so I am not a stranger to travel delays on an airline and generally can take them good naturedly (after all, as long as I have my iPod and a book, a flight delay is merely time to relax). But, on this trip, my father booked the tickets and, since he is partial to American Airlines (and paid for all the tickets), we flew his airline of choice.

Note: Those who know me already know how much I hate American Airlines for bumping me from a flight to Bangor, ME because they overbooked (despite having booked tickets early and arrived at the gate over an hour early) two years ago and thus causing me to miss my friend Karen’s wedding, an incident I’ve always regretted. It was at this point I originally decided never to fly them again. But as I said, my father bought the tickets and free is free.

The trip from NY to San Juan was relatively easy. We flew an Airbus 300. I had a terrible seat in coach between the bathroom and I guy who spend the entire flight hacking and coughing (an interior aisle so the nearest window was two rows behind me), but none of this was the fault of American Airlines and I was content. Maybe I had just had a bad experience with the Bangor flight and was ready to give good ole AA a second chance. Until this morning, that is…

Father, being the wonderful dad he is, offered to upgrade me and Sister to first class for the flight home to make up for the awful seat I had to endure on the way to San Juan. We were scheduled to depart at 6:50pm and I expected to be home by 10:30pm – enough time to relax with Husband and Tiki (Husband could not take off work so he did not come on this vacation) and get a good night’s sleep. At about 6:30pm, the American Airlines gate agent made an announcement that due to mechanical difficulties, there was a chance the plane would not be able to depart San Juan, but informed the waiting passengers that we would all fit on the 9:55pm flight and we would leave then. I was skeptical. I know how airlines love to cut costs and I hold firm to the belief that “mechanical difficulties” in this case was code for “We don’t want to spend the money to send two half full planes to NY so we are combining everyone onto the later flight and there is nothing you can do about it, suckers.”

Now, there was a flight leaving for Newark, NJ at the same time that was taking off. But American Airlines refused to allow Sister and I to board that plane because we had checked luggage in order to comply with the stupid gels and liquids rule (I say stupid because I am willing to bet that someone smarter than me could make a powerful bomb out of a quart sized bag filled with 3 oz. of various liquids and gels) and there is a rule that you can’t fly on one flight while your bag flies on another – even if you would have taken the original flight if only it would freakin’ depart! But, I digress….

So, we wait three hours for the 9:55pm flight home (Father had given Sister his liquids and had no checked luggage but generously declined to take the flight to Newark without us). Except, I look at my watch and notice it is 9:35 and we have not boarded. Not a good sign. Sister heads to the gate to see what is going on. There have been no announcements. From my seat in the lounge, I see the gate agent frown and shrug his shoulders. Also not a good sign. Turns out that this plane has a problem with “hydraulics” and will not be taking off until 11pm at the earliest.

Now I am getting annoyed. But so is everyone else. The gate agents offer meal coupons but rescind that offer a few minutes later when they realize the only open food court is outside security and there is not enough time for people to go and come back. We are starving and cranky but spirits are lifted when a band traveling to NY takes out their instruments and performs an impromptu concert. Finally we board.

The plane is freezing. The food (even in first class) is inedible. I can’t sleep and just want to be home. We land at 1:45am and I could not be happier. My anger towards American Airlines even begins to dissipate. We head to baggage claim.

No bag on the carousel. We wait and the area begins to fill. People wonder out loud when the bags will be arriving. Finally, an announcement is made that there is a problem opening the baggage compartment and there will be a wait for the bags. An hour passes without any information. I decide to abandon my bag, but American will not allow me to make a claim for delayed baggage because the delay had not been long enough. Plus, as I later learn, a claim does not mean you will get your bag the next day…or even the next week…so Sister and I wait. Father gives up and goes home. There are no representatives from American Airlines on hand to explain what is going on. Another announcement telling me the bags are still delayed but no estimate on time. The people in baggage services are rude and just tell you to call an 800 number if you have a problem.

An hour goes by. It is 3:30am and the carousel begins to move and bags appear. People clap and cheer, but upon further inspection, it is clear these are not the bags from the San Juan flight. They are the bags from the Los Angeles flight. Children are crying, Sister and I are falling apart. We briefly discuss abandoning forever these bags, but decide against it. 4am and the carousel moves again. This time it is bags from the San Juan flight. Yippee!!!! I scan the bags eagerly for any sight of mine. Four bags tumble down and I am ecstatic. But then, the carousel stops. No more bags. It is now 4:30am. Still no bags. Sister is ready to abandon the entire enterprise and leave. We go to baggage services. There is no one there. There is no American Airlines representative. There is no one who thought about the fact that most people on the plane had not eaten since 5pm NY time (6pm PR time) and showed up with bagels and coffee. I call American Airlines to find out our options. Essentially, we have no option but to wait. At 4:45pm, a full 3 hours after landing we get our bags! I can barely function at this point. Sister and I hail a taxi and I arrive home at 5:28am. I crawl into bed and sleep for a blissful 2 hours until my alarm rings to tell me it is time to go to work. I can barely function. I am exhausted and I hate American Airlines.

So, in a totally vindictive spirit, I would love to hear from anyone else with American Airlines issues. I will publish all of them gladly.

This is added later: Check out this link http://amediacirc.us/2006/12/23/they-know-why-i-fly-and-do-not-care-american-airlines-your-are-the-years-biggest-loser/ The same thing happened to someone else a few days ago. American Airlines Sucks!

OFF TO THE ISLANDS

I am in desperate need of a vacation. Husband agrees that we both need vacation time but we keep not taking vacation because “we just got back from a honeymoon.” It was not until recently that it dawned on us that the honeymoon was more than 7 months ago and we may actually be allowed to go away again.

I am leaving this afternoon for Connecticut and then jetting of early in the morning to Puerto Rico with Mother, Father, Sister and Brother. Husband is staying behind in New York to take care of Tiki and to cover at the office for all the non-Jews who covered for him during Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Boo! I will miss both Husband and Tiki very much - although not enough to stay behind in the increasingly cold weather when I could spend the next several days lying by a pool or SCUBA diving.

So, if I am quiet through Christmas, it’s because I am taking a vacation from work and blogging and relaxing. I hope everyone has a nice holiday (whichever one you may celebrate) and, if I neglect to log on beforehand (not likely), a happy new year.

SURE I BOUGHT YOU A GIFT, ITS JUST ON...UMMMM...BACKORDER. YEAH. BACKORDER.

There is so much politics involved in gift-giving during the holiday season. I never really understood that until this year. Previously, I used to buy for a few friends and relatives without wondering if my list should expand or decrease. I even kept a few emergency gifts on hand for those folks who surprised me with a gift. I always had one ready to go.

But this year, I am beginning to see that there is more to exchanging holiday gifts than the mere exchange. Oh sure, in some cases it is easy. Gifts are purchased and wrapped for folks like SWCNBN, Wuzi (she already got hers), Husband (ditto on all but the big one, which he is getting tonight), Sister, Brother, Mother and Father. I did not give a second thought when buying these presents and could have cared less if I got a gift in return. (Note to Brother: The last statement was a lie. Forget to give me a gift and you will suffer all year!)

But then there is P, who I don’t like anymore and don’t want to spend money on her. She suggested doing a gift exchange and, short of saying, “You are a selfish bitch and I can’t stand you anymore,” I had to ante up. After all, she still thinks we are close friends. (Although I barely spent $20 and since for P, it is all about the price of the present, she will get the picture and likely never ask me to exchange again. Seriously, she actually goes online to see how much you spent on her. Bitch.) Not that I can figure out how she thinks we are still friends since I have not returned an email or phone call in weeks.

And what about the people who, almost more than 7 months after the wedding, neglected to buy us a wedding present or at least acknowledge that they did not buy something. Husband and I are not unreasonable. We know some of our friends have no cash and are grateful simply for their attendance at the wedding. But, those people actually acknowledged that they could not afford a gift at the present time and we graciously told them not to be ridiculous and we wouldn’t accept anything from them. (And meant it).

But I am talking about several friends on both sides that attended the wedding without major financial hardship and still neglected to purchase even a small gift. We bought those same people really nice presents for their weddings so I don’t understand. And, in one case, we spent absurd sums on one couple’s children every birthday/Christmas/Valentine’s Day, etc for the last several years. Do I stop buying for the kids because the parents were rude enough to not give a present? Actually, I think this is the last year those kids will be getting a gift because, come to think of it, I don’t even get thank you notes from them and they are certainly both old enough to write a note, even if they are too young to address the envelope.

And then there is the issue of administrative assistants. If you think your admin is merely taking up valuable office space with her bad attitude and constant personal calls, are you still required to purchase a gift for her? And what about the temp who you give your work to because your admin sucks? Can you buy her a gift and not your admin?

So, for the next several weeks, despite my best efforts to stay above the fray, I remain immersed in the politics of gift giving. The New Year can’t come fast enough….