Iceberg Carwash

What Will I Get For It?

2012-02-19T11:35:00.001-05:00

It appears to me that the current generation of children (by those I mean young adults/young marrieds-there's still hope for the youngers, but barely...read on)) seems to be fairly self-focused. I will immediately say that I do not believe this to be true of all young people, and that plenty of them have a world view that goes past the end of their own noses, but many, unfortunately, are in the other camp. Now, I am not old enough to know if this is a recent phenomenon, or even if these people will eventually grow out of it, but I (of course) have a theory on potentially how this came to pass.

It is unlikely that this is the only reason, but it is certainly a prevailing trend that is not doing any of us any favors. What is this scourge that turns well meaning individuals into those looking to see what it means for them?

The "Chesed Prize."

Apparently today one cannot do work for an organization on a purely volunteer basis. One cannot collect goods or money for those less fortunate or institutions in need without some sort of tangible real world payoff, where the ante gets upped as the volunteers get older.

I understand the need to motivate some kids, and incentivize, but it has become so rampant that it seems that there are hardly any projects accomplished without a "prize" attached. From sodas, to trinkets that break within five minutes, to pizza parties, to grandiose trips, all good deeds come with some sort of, well, bribe. In discussing the collection of small bags of potato chips for a local hospital with one of the principals of one of the schools (where the student body would be helping to bring a small bag of deep fry solace to those who were in the hospital with a loved one), the question was raised what would the kids would be given for bringing in their chips.

This is the problem. We've taken the act of giving, of caring, of doing for others and made it about what we can get for ourselves. The worst part is, the children who are innately giving and caring are having that character trait diminished in themselves through these programs that insist you need to get to give. We've created selfishness in the realm of selflessness, and then we wonder why know one cares about anyone besides themselves.

Is this definitely why so many young people cannot (as I have said often) "get past themselves" to figure out a way to go a little out of their own comfort zone, or out of their way for others? And by others I don't necessarily mean strangers.And by out of the way it doesn't necessarily mean doing tasks and chores usually associated with "giving" or volunteering. Sometimes it takes some effort to figure out how to join a Simcha, even if it means driving far, getting a babysitter, and changing a schedule here and there. But we can do things for people in our lives. We can make an effort and not only do what comes simply. And if the payoff is rubber chicken and kids who are kvetchy, but we've made the effort and we show others that we care about them, and that they matter, then that's the payoff. Someone else's happiness. For one small disruption in our lives we've taken the feelings of someone else into account, dare I say, first. That doesn't mean every Simcha, or every event, but when family makes an event, or events by people we have a true connection with (and when you are young you don't have those every night)it may be the simplest act of Chesed to just show up.

We just need to be more focused on not always putting ourselves first. But in a culture where everyone needs to be happy without necessarily creating the opportunities to achieve true happiness, it's hard to find those who can really put others first. This is not about being someone who volunteers, or someone who is always giving. It's about being out in the world and not always assuming that others are out to get one over on you, or that you need to push your way forward, or be aggressive in driving, and just generally not give a thought to the people around you.

SO...

2012-02-15T19:04:00.005-05:00

So my dear blog readers. I hope that your lack of response to the previous post was just you being cautious, and I have not lost you all.

Another letter came today, her second choice (really she didn't want to go, but was told she had to apply to two places), and they "wait listed her." which means a rejection, but no one wants to say that.

HOWEVER:

SHE GOT IN TO HER FIRST CHOICE YESTERDAY!!!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

We are so happy for her.

Waiting...

2012-02-14T16:52:00.001-05:00

...At this point, it's a mere ten minutes.

I went to the mailbox, looking for the high school girls' report cards, which almost everyone else in their school received late last week. Nonchalantly, because there are few surprises on their report cards, I took out the stack of letters.

There on the top was a letter we were not expecting until at least tomorrow. I was unprepared for the flip- flop that my stomach did as I looked at the return address of the school the eldest child would like to attend next year. GULP.

I want this for her because I think it's the right place. I want this for her, because as her mother I don't want her to have to deal with rejection. I want this for her because she wants this for herself, and it is attainable, and will put her on a good path for the future.

I want this for her because I love her.

I just need her to get home and open the darn thing!

Independence Day

2012-01-29T14:59:00.000-05:00

With the world as crazy as it is, we have taken to sheltering our children, but perhaps it has gone too far.

I know things are different from the way they were twenty five years ago, but we are creating a generation of super dependent children. Aside from cell phones taking a way a young teenager's opportunity to navigate the world on her own, to many parents are to afraid to let their kids go. Do they not trust them, or is this just another step in our "parenting from fear" policy?

When I was in eighth grade, and going forward I went into the city from the suburbs with a friend of mine every time we had vacation. We took the bus, we took the bus back, we stayed past dark, and our parents' input was a piece of paper with a few pertinent places we wanted to go to, and a crude map of Manhattan. Oh, and no cell phone.

My friends' kids went into the city with a complete plan and itinerary mapped out by their mothers, the other one went WITH her mother, and one of my daughter's friends (almost 18) was allowed to go if they left the city by the time it got dark. Hmm.

Living in the suburbs it is very hard to give our kids any freedom or independence. There are very few places they can go to themselves, and the culture around here is just very car-centric and not at all public transportation based. Thus, I was quite excited when my daughter got her licence, because now she has the ability and the necessity to navigate the world, and interact with people and life without her parents doing things for her. I guess I am unsure as to why a parent would resist allowing their older children the ability to become a productive member of society, a functioning social being able to navigate the world around them in a way that will eventually give them maturity and a step into adulthood.

I look at my eldest and I see the little eighteen month old who climbed out of her crib at nap time, the one who looked up at me with huge innocent eyes, as she played, her facing registering a "what? did I do something wrong?" expression. It's hard to see her moving on, but that's what she needs, and that what shes up to, and it hurts, but I can't hold her back, and I want her to succeed.

When they sprout the wings, we need to let them fly.

Photo Evidence

2012-01-13T13:10:00.001-05:00

Here is the photo, the sticky notes are covering up specific information about the who, why, what, when, where- this is the internet after all!

From the ad with the face


From the ad blurred

There you have it!Seeing the picture shows even more of the absurdity of this. She's wearing a towel and her arm is exposed. As MBB puts it, the "temptress in the Harbor!" Wanna know why people stopped being frum when they got here? It was because of what loomed large above them as the boat sailed into Ellis Island. How could they withstand the temptation? Plus, if you get close, I think her toes are showing too!

They've Gone Too Far

2012-01-12T23:23:00.002-05:00

By now my feelings on the omitting or blurring of women's photos in magazines and ad circulars is well known. I think though that things have finally reached the tipping point. At least for me.

My high schoolers are gearing up for their production, dance and drama, with one on the props committee, which is really not only props but set decoration. That means building the sets from scratch; a lot of cardboard, foam and paint, coupled with blood (literally), sweat, burns, and laughter. (If there are tears we haven't seen them). Part of this endeavor is publicity, aside from going to the local schools to sell tickets, ads are placed in local publications. My niece is running that committee, and alerted me to the following travesty parading as religiosity.

The play is an immigrant story, taking place at the time of the Triangle Shirt Waist Factory fire. The art for the poster and print ads is the backs of two immigrants with an American flag and the Statue of Liberty looming large above them. In one of the ad magazines that are available for free at the supermarket (pages of local ads, some coupons and classifieds, lots of pictures of Rebbes,parlor meetings, accidents and weather related snapshots) the ad is in there, in the relatively early pages (61), albeit there is a change.

The Statue of Liberty's face has been blurred out.

If it wasn't so sad I would laugh.

Another Prize Ceremony

2012-01-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

Congratulations again to RabbiM!!!!

Being the Mid -West contingent of our loyal following, we asked our loyal commenter, DOOBIE to do the honors, and present him with the award. Here are the photos from that ceremony!

Remember, next year a great prize COULD be yours!

Dance With Me...If You Dare

2012-01-05T21:52:00.005-05:00

We were at a really fun wedding last night, a category that most family weddings fall into. We know a large amount of people, are happy to see them, and are genuinely happy for the parents and the bride or groom, who we tend to actually KNOW.

At this age, much of the fun at the wedding is more about the socializing than the dancing (and sometimes, if we are feted correctly, the menu!), but we do our duty and get up to dance first with the bride, and then with her mother, or mother in law and/or grandmother. The dancing, once we get up from our seats, is quite enjoyable, except when it's not.

When is it not? well, let's see, I join the circle and on one side we hold a palm so sweaty it may in fact not be sweaty at all, but perhaps this particular dancer came late, went to wash for the crusty challah roll on her plate, and before she could dry her hands (or make the bracha) heard the intense drumbeats and shrieking that herald the bride and groom's entrance onto the dance floor. She quickly ran to the circle, and perhaps that's when I, unfortunately, cut in to grab on to her dripping hand. Or she just sweats. A lot. The woman on the other side of me felt the need to hold her car keys. I'm not sure why. At first I thought maybe she had a problem with her hand, and that's how she protected herself, but I saw her later, holding her keys (which looked numerous enough to wonder if she was the lone night watchman at a prison. or a twelve year old boy) very normally. I had to wonder, with all of us who left our cell phones at the table, inside our fancy evening bags, why she couldn't do the same, but perhaps she was late in coming as well, and had no time to put them down. What fun! Sweaty McSweatsweat on one side, and holding the crook of the arm of Warden McKeys on the other as we shuffle around the outer most ring of the dance floor. It didn't last long, beacsue a short, but very stocky woman noticed the bride's great grandmother standing at the side, and made it her duty to get her into the inner-most circle. A noble endevour indeed. Is it noble to LITERALLY PUSH people out of the way, and then hold them back as if she was the wall of water at the splitting of the Red Sea? Then there was Elbow Woman. She was convinced she knew me (she doesn't), and had to talk to me while we were dancing, but every time she spoke to me her elbows flew up and banged into my arms. She was tall and wiry, so her elbows were quite bony!

Then there was the usual, circle too fast, circle too slow, women changing the dance to something complicated, girls jumping and calling it dancing, and the requisite wiggling that is de riguer at today's function.

It really was nice, everyone was happy, even when the groom fell off the table he was held aloft and dancing on and after the wedding ended up with stitches and a shattered wrist.

And the Winner Is…

2012-01-04T11:26:00.001-05:00

The S&P 500 Index ended 2011 at 1257.60, down 0.3% from its 2010 closing level of 1257.64. The technical term for that kind of performance is “flat.”
However, merely looking at the year-end closing price and comparing it to the prior year’s close, ignores the fact that the market was quite volatile this year. Looking at the high-low range on the Index, it becomes clear that stocks really moved around quite a bit in 2011. The S&P 500’s high point for the year was about 1370, representing an 8.9% increase from 2010’s close, while the low point was 1075, representing a 14.5% decline from the year-end 2010 level.
Of course, in our stock market contest, the aim is to pick the S&P 500’s level at year end. What happens throughout the year doesn’t matter much for our purposes. To those of you who sold at the high and bought at the low, congratulations. Your portfolio might look nice, but that’s not going to help you win our contest. It’s not the journey, it’s the destination.
Before we announce the winner, let’s recap 2011’s entries, listed in the order they were received:

• MBB: 1130.00
• Doobie: 1450.00
• BrotherLawyer: 1340.00
• fil: 1450.00
• wolfman: 1440.00
• rabbim: 1298.00

(In accordance with the official IcebergCarwash style manual, I have quoted all S&P 500 Index prices to two decimal places).

The winner of the Third Annual IcebergCarwash Stock Market Contest is rabbim, who predicted the year-end level of the S&P 500 Index within 3.2%.

An announcement regarding this year’s prize will be forthcoming.

Congratulations!

Welcome to the Fortune-Teller's Convention

2011-12-28T21:20:00.003-05:00

Much like a bear emerging from his cave after a winter's hibernation, or the Ayatollah Khomeini returning to Iran in 1979 after years of exile, I have returned to IcebergCarwash (barely) in time to uphold one of this blog's most cherished traditions.

Yes, readers, it is time for...

The 4th Annual Iceberg Carwash Stock Market Contest.

The rules remain as simple as ever.

Using the comments section, tell us where you think the S&P 500 Index will be at the end of 2012.

To qualify for entry into the contest, your forecast must be received by no later than the market’s open on the first trading day of next year, 9:30 AM EST on Tuesday, January 3, 2012.

The contestant whose prediction comes closest to the actual closing level of the Index at year-end wins the contest.

I know that we've given out a prize to the contest's winner in the past, but we make no guarantees about doing so in the future.

For reference, the S&P 500 closed today at 1249.64. With two trading days remaining in the year, the market is down about 0.7% so far in 2011. In technical terms, we refer to that as "flat."

My prediction for the S&P 500 Index’s level at the end of 2012 is 1,350.00.

We’ll announce the winner of the 2011 contest sometime over this coming weekend.

There are so many fundamental factors to consider when projecting the market's direction in the coming year.

Will the European sovereign debt crisis be resolved?

Will the Euro remain intact?

Where will commodity prices go, and what impact would a rotation out of "hard assets" have on equity prices?

Has the U.S. housing market finally hit bottom? Will buyers make a dent in the enormous inventory of unsold homes?

Will the jobs market finally improve?

How will the presidential election, only a little more than 10 months away, affect the direction of U.S. stock prices?

Will the wheels come off (or will the lead paint peel off) the Chinese economic machine?

These, and other important potential issues, must be considered when attempting to predict where the market will be a year from now.

Alternatively, make sure that no one is standing too close to your dart board.

Cop-Out

2011-12-27T13:24:00.000-05:00

Right now in Mishpacha magazine there is a dialogue in the INBOX on the topic of chessed. This was precipitated by a feature called "words unspoken," in which those who feel they can not say what they would like to say to a specific person or group of people have a forum to do so anonymously and publicly ( as odd as that combination is)

The current topic is those people who feel put upon when they are called to make a meal for a family who has had a new baby or in some other way is in need of assistance in providing hot home cooked meals to a family. The main thrust of the first "words unspoken," was a woman who is just barely keeping it together herself, hardly managing her kids and workload in and out of the house, and then BOOM! a call to help someone else. Based on what she writes there is ample room for her to actually do what she claims she just absolutely cannot, and her whole premise for upsetting the apple cart of this social construct that gives assistance to those who need it seems dubious)

Some of the responses mentioned much of what I would say,(just say no, it doesn't mean someone shouldn't call you, don't try to be so fancy, whatever you're serving your own family people would be happy to have, don't try to impress, just try to help) and some agreed whole- heartedly with the original piece, banding the "chessed begins at home" banner. One person wrote that smiling at people is also chessed just as teaching your own children to be nice to each other is a chessed.

Bah! That's what I say to that.

Those are very nice things, but a family tends to be a unit. So if all one's chessed is directed internally it is not the same "giving" to another person. It does not teach you to get past yourself, and put others first. It does not help you to realize that you and yours are not the only people in the world. Why do these things matter? Because they paint your dealings in other aspects of your life. If other people are never the recipients of your kindness, and you keep that all within your home, then that's the outlook you will have to the whole world. Then you will be the one who is completely self focused while driving (why would I pull in to this CIRCULAR driveway to drop off my passenger, when I want to quickly move on? I will make everyone on this busy road wait while I drop my passenger off in the MIDDLE of the street, MY time is very precious don't you know), in the supermarket, and in all your dealings in life.

That doesn't mean one needs to be constantly giving their time, cooking, or volunteering. It just means people should get over themselves and sometimes do things that are not so simple, or even easy for them. Sometimes it can even be something that doesn't seem like a chessed, but is because it's outside your immediate comfort zone. Obviously, if one really can't keep it together at home, they should not be helping others in THAT way, but there are ways people can help that go beyond their own four walls.Plenty of organizations will be happy to have any help they can get, and telling people to feel bad about who they call is ridiculous. If we can't rely on people to help each other, and are made to feel guilty just for asking, then we are in worse shape than we thought.

If chessed begins at home, then do a chessed to your family and politely decline, and ask not to be called again for a while. Don't ruin it for the recipients of the help, and don't ruin it for the people asking, it's hard enough as it is, now they have to feel BAD every time they pick up the phone.

One of the letters quoted (I think) Rabbi Krohn:

"Chessed begins at home, but it doesn't end there."

I Fought the Law

2011-12-15T21:13:00.000-05:00

Having done my civic duty (or attempted to), it was now time for me to be on the other side of the bench. No, not the judge, but as the scofflaw, "Speedy McSpeedspeed."

Before the sermons and the lectures about setting examples and the appellations of "lead foot," and so on, it's important to note that although the ticket was officially for 20 miles over the speed limit, it was in fact a true speed trap. There's a road, like many in New Jersey, that stretches from one town into and through the next, and on to even another. A true journeyman, or peddler, going from town to town with no place to call home. OK, maybe not, but certainly a stretch of asphalt that can and does change names as it wends its way through various municipalities. But names are not the only things that change midstride. Apparently speed limits too, and right smack in the middle of this long (and in parts winding) road. BAM! it was 35 mph, so it's easy to be doing a respectable, all cops look the other way 10 over the limit 45mph. No problem, until that three or four BLOCK stretch where the speed is reduced to a paltry 25. TWENTY-FIVE? I understand wanting to maintain certain speed in the traffic, but it's smack in the middle of a pretty busy thorough fare and doesn't last all that long. Certainly a speed trap.

Well, it trapped me. The real kick in the head is that I had been on such a high. It was one of the girls' birthdays, I was on my way back from a very positive follow up appointment for the boy, and I was in that neighborhood to buy INEXPENSIVE coffee. I am the proud owner, as you may recall, of a wonderful Keurig coffee machine. Lately, the price of coffee has gone up approximately 25% from the past few years, so a place that sells coffee for the original low price is worth a slight detour.

Unless you end up with a speeding ticket and fine of over two hundred dollars (pleaded down). I'm sure MBB will be happy to do the math and let me know exactly how much each box of coffee actually cost me that day. I think I'd rather not know.

I wish it would have been that day. Just pay the cop, and move on. But nooooo. I have to spend two plus hours going through a "process' that is designed to extort money from fearful, (mostly) law abiding citizens who are intimidated by the unfamiliar circumstances they find themselves in. Obviously, I am not referring to those there on assault charges, or multiple housing violations charges, or second or third timers driving with out a licences types. No I am referring to the good citizens of this fine country who are caught in speed traps, and shuffled from place to place to agree to a "plea deal." This usually just means a way for the town to keep more of the money for themselves, and not share much of it with the state.

The part that rankles me the most is when the judge asks if you took the deal without coercion. Well, not really, everyone is in rush, and not really looking to explain anything to anyone. They were nice in the plea room, but definitely have the upper hand. There was no way I was getting an attorney for this, my apologies to all those attorneys who specialize in this type of law. I'm sure one of them could have helped me, but I did not wish to compund my guilt by hiring an attorney, though I may have saved an hour and a few bucks. It's doubtful an attorney would have saved from the comedy of errors that was my trip to the courthouse. First, I missed the ramp to get off one highway on to the next. Then I missed the first u-turn that would have allowed me to get back on track quickly. I found the second u-turn and made my way back to the spot of misdirection. At this point it was late, but I had time. Until I could.not.find.the courthouse. I went up and down that street, bumbling through no left turns, and no u-turn signs on driveways. I even tried to follow a cop to get directions, until FINALLY I saw an old Italian guy standing on the sidewalk, and he told me how to go. Yay. I'd get there with two minutes to spare! Except I had to park in the auxilliary lot, and I was halfway to the building when I realized I had left my phone in the car. Not that I am so attached to the phone, but I left all the kids home, and I wanted them to reach me if they could. I finally made my way into the building went up to the window, and got my number. 42. I asked if they had started at number 1, and the woman responded yes, but then kindly added, "don't worry, it goes pretty fast."

I guess that depends on whether or not you really want to get home. It wasn't unpleasant, though I did learn that throwing a drink on someone, according to the girl I was sitting next to, is considered assault.

So I've tried to get on a jury, I've stood before a judge, now I'd like to be a prosecutor.

Maybe I should go to Law School.

Smile and Say Cheese

2011-12-14T11:44:00.001-05:00

There's a new product on the market called The Bais Yaakov Cookbook. It looks interesting, with pages on bug checking, halachos in the kitchen, tips on buying meat and wine, and a history of the Bais Yaakov movement and Sara Schenirer. Oh, and recipes.

In the ad I saw over the weekend it proudly trumpeted that this was not just a history, but a pictorial history. The cookbook in the ad was open to a page where one could see pictures of buildings and some great Rabbonim illustrating the pages of the written historical account of the rise of Bais Yaakov.

Before I let myself get too worked up,I decided that a trip to the local bookstore was in order, and a quick flip through the pages of this book would either allay my fear or prove once and for all that our world had in fact gone mad.

I am pleased to report, that based on this one cookbook, there seem to be some contemplative human beings around. The book is filled with pictures of women and families from that era, as well as the Mother of Bais Yaakov herself.

It sounds silly, but as I have noted before, as the mother of so many future women, I am disheartened by the disappearing woman in our society. Especially when she is expected to carry the burden of supporting her home, OUTSIDE her home. The hypocrisy s mind boggling to me.

But today I am heartened. I'll take any little thing I can get.

The Book Was Way Better

2011-12-08T23:32:00.001-05:00

Having kids at lots of different ages leads to the following conversation:

"Can we get a video for the little kids for Sunday, then we could study for our midterms in peace."

"Oh sure, for the "little kids""

"Oh yes! I really want to watch "Ballerina Fairy Princess Tra-La-La Pony!"

Conviction

2011-12-08T15:17:00.001-05:00

Why is it that if someone has a conviction about something that goes against what is considered a societal norm, or custom,they are put into a position of needing to explain themselves. Generally, there is an explanation, and it likely makes sense to the holder of said conviction, but then the one who notices tries to find reasons why that person is wrong.

If someone is running around pointing fingers and shouting about why they think what everyone is doing should or should not be done, then by all means, they deserve to be called upon their own actions. But if someone just does or doesn't do something within their family and people hear about it (and don't be disingenuous in the comments, people hear things, it comes up in conversation, and in no way am I saying that it needs to be kept secret) why do they need to prove that that person is wrong?
Is it because deep down they agree? Is it because it rankles them that someone can so easily NOT do what everyone does?

She Passed!!!

2011-12-02T14:09:00.001-05:00

After a long, long road, and lots of crying, cringing, shouting and maneuvering, she got her license. She's off already. My stomach hurts, but I have to let her go.

The next one will get her permit next week.

Bad Company

2011-11-24T12:37:00.001-05:00

While I stand by my previous post, with some additional thoughts in the comments, I am not too proud to say that I do not like the company I am in:

Occupy Wall Street-inspired protesters are eyeing a new target -- Target. And dozens of other companies.
A campaign under the name "Occupy Black Friday" is trying to enlist supporters to boycott just about every major retailer, and quite a few mid-sized ones, the day after Thanksgiving. The protesters are casting a wide net, urging people to demonstrate against the top 100 publicly traded retail stores -- a list that includes everything from Wal-Mart to Target to Dick's Sporting Goods to Dollar Tree.
"The idea is simple, hit the corporations that corrupt and control American politics where it hurts, their profits," the group's Facebook page reads, describing Black Friday as the "one day where the mega-corporations blatantly dictate our actions."

I don't like that retailers have taken a Holiday and made it about commerce, but I don't have a problem with large companies making money, or employing people and growing local economies. I just wish they would take the day off for Thanksgiving. The whole day. It just makes life more real. And for many people who cannot afford to not have a job, it will show them that company cares about them just a little.

The "Occupiers," (Side note: MBB and I are waiting for a scandal in that group so that we can have two ubiquitous terms come together: OccupyGate!) just want to make a mess off everything. Like the NBA lockout, who gets hurt? Not the players, not the owners, but the arena workers, security, concessions, parking and souvenir vendors. It's always the little guy who is going to hurt most, and is on the front line. These Occupiers are hypocrites, they are taking food donations, and monetary donations out of the hands and mouths of the truly needy to perpetuate their anarchist goals. Plus, the convenience and price reductions that the big box stores provide are a boon to the "99%." Though many are torn by the way some stores treat their employees, it's a lot easier to boycott fur and blood diamonds than it is to boycott a place where you can buy two ski caps and two pairs of mittens for a cute little guy for under $4. (NOT ON SALE!) Essentially, like all things in life it's complicated.

So let's keep Thanksgiving as Thanksgiving, and come Friday morning let the frenzy begin, if nothing else, it will be a good feeling knowing some of the people in the store aren't there to grab that twenty dollar DVD player out of your hands. They'll just tsk at you when you do.

Then it will Occupy a nice place in your den.

Greed

2011-11-23T11:43:00.001-05:00

The trend this Thanksgiving to have stores either open on Thanksgiving Day, late in the evening, or late at night on Thursday night is very troubling. First, a day that was a real holiday in this country, a day when people really got together with family and friends, has become, like so many American holidays, all about shopping. It's not just about making money, the consumers are at fault as well. Yes, our economy needs the jump start, but will these few extra hours on Thanksgiving Day really make a difference in the month long run-up to Christmas? And then the After-Christmas sales? What legacy are we creating when the focus of every holiday is to get through the holiday (read: family) stuff and move on to the selfish acquisition of material goods.

Why is it selfish? What if really need a cheap coat? Well, that cheap coat could wait a few hours, and it's selfish because people have to come in to work in the stores, that need to be open, because....I'm still not sure. I asked a few employees today in two different "Big Box Stores" whether they could take the day off if they wanted to. The woman in Target told me "No, they won't approve any vacation days for Thursday at midnight through Friday." The temp at Walmart told me they need to work from 6pm until 6 am (I think the store opens at 9pm) on Thanksgiving, but that you could take off if you want to, but there is no overtime pay. I didn't ask the woman in Target if she would get overtime. She said "They make it so that your life outside of work is less and less important."

This made me so sad. Aside from the employees needing to be in the store for it to open, they also need to sleep at some point, so effectively their Thanksgiving will be dictated by their work schedule. Say they normally have dinner at six, finish around eight or nine? Now? They need to start earlier so they can get a few zzz's before they are up working all night.

Somethings need to be sacred in this country, and some things need to go beyond the almighty dollar, but as soon as one retailer skips the line, they all have to copy that for fear of being left in the financial dust. It's great to get a deal, but the deals can start at 8 am on Friday, and let people who work these jobs have a life.

I find this extremely troubling.

T'is the Season to Feel Pressure

2011-11-20T12:25:00.001-05:00

I hate this time of year. I hate Black Friday, and Pre-Black Friday, and Pre-Pre Black Friday. It's too much pressure. Who has the best deal, when do they have the best deal, how early do you need to get it, what? you'd rather sleep than get this deal? Quite frankly? Yes. (honestly I'd rather sleep than do most things, but that may just be a function of being a mother of an 18 month old who thinks he's a rooster, and teenagers who think they are bats).

It's almost like sitting on an airplane, no matter how much or how little you paid someone will tell you about the amazing deal they got. A wise man once told me that the joy of money is not needing to always get the best deal, and I've tried to really internalize that.

So bring on the $2 crockpots and 3 cent towels, innundate me with $10 winter coats and tights for mere pennies. I will be strong. I may check online, but I certainly will not brave the crowds and fight the mobs to get my hands on items I don't really need.

I'll let my brother do that for me.

Occupy Inbox

2011-11-15T17:16:00.001-05:00

Apparently grass roots efforts can work. A few e-mails went out from a few shuls suggesting that people call or e-mail the Supervisor about the BEAR! problem. I am totally assuming that many people emailed or called, because we received the following email today (It also came as a phone call) (phone numbers have been edited out):

Over the past week a largeblack bear has been sighted in the... areas of the town. We adviseresidents to do the following:

1) If you see the bear, call the... PoliceDepartment or .... Animal Control Officer immediately.

DO NOT APPROACH THE BEAR

2) The Department of EnvironmentalConservation (DEC) regulates the removal of Black Bears from all venues in New York State. During normal business hours 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM call the WildlifeRegional Office or during off-duty hours 4:00 PM - 8:00 AM call1-877-457-5680 to report a sighting and/or an emergency situation (aftercalling the local Police).

3) DEC officials will inspect areas... where bear sightings have occurred on Wednesday, November 16, 2011. OurAnimal Control Officer will lead the inspection tour.

4) The... Police Department is increasingPolice presence in the areas where sightings have occurred, in particularduring night time hours.

5) Reminder: Please take down all birdfeedersand cover your garbage cans. These are the two major attractions for blackbears.

Sincerely Yours,

Supervisor

I guess the BEARS didn't put enough in their envelope.

No Lions or Tigers

2011-11-15T08:55:00.001-05:00

Living in a suburban community has its advantages. But, it also has disadvantages, the main one right now is wildlife. The fact that we are innundated with deer, have had a few coyotes roaming around in the past two years, and now an abundance of bears, is not a surprise. When building continues unchecked, and wooded areas are leveled to make room for baseball teams, it is not too shocking that the animals will need a place to go.

Unfortunately, I and my neighbors don't want them here. The police have said "You live in the country, get used to it." (I should add allegedly, since I did not hear the statement myself) I hear stories daily of people who saw the bears, and a drive through certain neighborhoods will reveal garbage strewn lawns courtesy of our new residents, Ursus americanus.

So I sent our fearless leader the following e-mail:

While understanding the difficult economic climate the Town is facing, not ridding a very populous area of BEARS is not a good way to be fiscally responsible. In fact, in an area that is so full of people, and people with small children, it would be terribly tragic if the Town had to get involved after someone got hurt or dragged off. The BEARS are here, and are emboldened. One was one a stoop on (Redacted) Road last night. ON THE STOOP! How much closer should we allow them to encroach before we realize that we and our families are in danger? PLEASE,PLEASE, PLEASE do something about this.

As much as I wanted to, I resisted the urge to add the following:

Building them apartments will neither alleviate the problem, nor garner you new votes, so please find another way to keep us safe.

I doubt he can.

Who Came Up With This?

2011-11-14T19:29:00.001-05:00

There's a recent trend in Orthodox clothing that's making me crazy. It started a few years ago, when double-sleeved clothing became fashionable. For those not in the know, double sleeve is a short sleeve shirt made with long sleeves coming out of it, usually in a contrasting color. These shirts are sold all over, and are very popular at Old Navy, Gap and Carter's.

GREAT! Now there is Carte Blanche to put a "shell' under any shirt we can find. It doesn't matter how long or short the sleeve, if we just stick this long or three quartered sleeve spandex or cotton shirt under anything we wear, we can wear anything! Heck, we can even wear a flesh colored shell with a spaghetti strap tank top, because once we are putting shells under things we would never wear, why stop at short sleeves.In fact, why stop at shirts at all! Skirt or dress to short? Stick another skirt under it! Or a shell dress! Forget that, just put a pair of pants under a short denim skirt during the week, and BAM! You may look Muslim, but no one can say you aren't tzinyus. Plus you get the added benefit of everyone thinking you went to the gym. That is definitely a part of how THIS pants trend started, but I think it was a domino effect. Shirts under shirts, skirts under skirts, pants under skirts. Once you can tweak to be according to proper guidelines, it's all about the letter of the law.

Hey, here's an idea: If it's too short? DON'T WEAR IT!!!!

Shame on All Of You

2011-11-10T15:05:00.001-05:00

How could any of the people at Penn State look this former coach in the eye, knowing what he was and what he did. They have the pain of all these children, and all the children those children went on to abuse, on their hands. There are no heroes here, and all those people who claim the greatness of "molders of men" and other approbations given football coaches have learned that they are mere cogs in an institutionalized money machine. Apparently, these are men whose moral values are in no way at a level that affords them the pedestal they are placed on.

I cannot comprehend how anyone knowing what they knew just continued to allow this man access to children. I really don't understand why it wasn't reported to the police as opposed to a superior at work. No job is worth the moral cesspool you place yourself in by allowing a predator to continue his actions. Telling him not to bring children on campus, just means if you don't see it, it's not your problem.

Perhaps now this country will not only see how much lip service is given to the protection of children, but also how vaccuous the most "moral" and "respected" public figures turn out to be. I know they are human and have flaws, no one can be perfect, or act correctly all the time. even those who continually work on their character traits will slip every so often. But there are some things that just cannot be allowed, not for money, reputation or even football.

And for any organization or individual that covers up abuse, and allows a predator to continue to destroy lives-know that you are as culpable as the predator in the destruction of these souls.

Disgusting

Stay or Go

2011-11-03T09:32:00.001-04:00

Unfortunately, for a few neighborhoods in town the blackout continues. When we got power back we had friends without power stay over. They got their power back, so we called other people without power, feeling it would be silly to let beds lie empty. Especially since the effected houses are not just dark, but freezing cold.

A bunch of people said no. They'd rather not pack up, they'd rather stick it out at home. I really love to be home. However, I cannot imagine that the discomfort of living in someone else's house for a few days is more than the discomfort of living in a house whose high temperature is 52 degrees ( and according to one friend as low as 42!). Soup and other hot foods only take you so far. Do you get more points at the end if getting through it was difficult? If someone offers a place to stay that's warm and well lit it does not make you less tough or less hearty a soul if you go. Especially if you know early on that it's a least a three day proposition. We know a lot of people who went out of town to relatives, that's much more of a commitment then going to someone who lives a few minutes from your powerless house. If you forget anything, you just go get it.

To each his own, I guess.

31 Hours...

2011-10-31T08:48:00.000-04:00

...and we're the lucky ones. There are those who have no idea when the power will go back on, and who are being told it could take at least until mid week .The power came back at 2:40 this morning, the house was at a frosty 53. We kept warm with layers and hot drinks.

October snow. Trees still lush after a fairly mild start to the fall results in the following after nine inches of snow fall:

The lack of light was not a problem, as per my DNA we have many many flashlights. It just got really cold. At one point we went outside, and suddenly inside provided some warmth at 56 degrees. The food was a non-issue, milk was packed outside in the snow, and the freezer in the garage kept things frozen solid. The gas stove was ignited with matches, and all sorts of comfort foods served up. With no computers and no Wii and no Casio "we're bored" was a common refrain, one quickly countered by the mothers everywhere line "I'll give you something to do." Which I did. So we got somethings organized, we kept things neat (I used the clever trick of telling the kids we didn't want to trip when the sun went down), had hot soup, coffee, cocoa, tea, played some games, had a kumzits, and eventually they couldn't take it anymore and pulled out the lap top that had two hours of battery life left to watch an old high school concert video. How is it they can get through a three day yom tov three times in a row, but a power outtage makes them crazy?

At about 8 last night, while it was still dark and frigid, we threw together an impromptu get together of the blacked- out, cold family members in the neighborhood.

The kitchen never seemed warmer.

Occupy Iceberg

2011-10-26T20:20:00.000-04:00

Well, my acquaintances, I’m back.

Don’t get too excited, though.

I’m not here to post anything.

Rather, I’ve come to protest a glaring and lingering injustice.

You see, despite the fact that I comprise a full 50% of the management of this blog, I have contributed only about 1% of the posts within the past several months.

On college campuses all over this great nation, where opium is the religion of the masses, there’s a word for that.

INEQUALITY

I am the “other 1%,” or the “other 50%,” depending upon how you look at it, and I’m not pleased.

Now, rather than allow some ultra-conservative media outlet like Fox News to portray me as some kind of rabble-rouser with no real agenda, I will lay out my beliefs in a clear fashion:

• I believe in fairness.
• I believe in equality.
• I believe that things should be fair.
• I believe that things should be equal.
• I believe that things must change.
• I believe that things cannot stay the same.
• I will not tolerate the status quo.
• These conditions have persisted for too long.
• The only way we can bring about change is to state, unequivocally, our opposition to the current conditions.
• For the record, let me state that I am unequivocally opposed to the current conditions.
• Hey, are you going to finish that beer?
• I know that you want me to be silent, but I will not be silent.
• Only by voicing our opinions can we give voice to our opinions.
• In the absence of hope, there is no hope.
• The oppression must end.
• In order for the oppression to end, it must be exposed for the entire world to see.
• We will take to our iPhones and iPads to tell the world of our oppression and deprivation.
• Just as soon as I finish my $7 soy milk latte.
• Seriously, it’s terrible once it gets cold.
• No, lattes are not meant to be reheated. I’m a progressive, not a savage.
• I will not sleep until the blogosphere has become just.
• Or until sometime later this evening, whichever comes earlier.

You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I’m no longer interested in this cause. It bores me.

Furthermore, it has recently come to my attention that there are far more egregious examples of inequality out there than what I’ve witnessed on this blog.

While most of you like to think globally and act locally, I demand a larger stage.

I prefer to think galactically.

(Blogger’s Note: The bourgeois pigs and their repressive spell check tool do not seem to recognize the term “galactically.” That’s hardly surprising for those narrow-minded, gun-toting, right wing nut-jobs. Either way, their efforts at suppressing my progressive words and ideas have failed, once again. I simply clicked “ignore,” reflecting my attitude towards most of the rules of society and good hygiene).

The following table lists the eight planets in our solar system, arranged by their distance from the sun (closest-to-farthest away), showing their mass in both absolute and relative terms (with the Earth’s mass as the benchmark).

PlanetRelative Mass (Earth = 1.0)Mass (in yottagrams)% of Total Mass
Mercury 0.0553 330 0.0124%
Venus 0.8150 4,869 0.1825%
Earth 1.0000 5,974 0.2239%
Mars 0.1070 642 0.0241%
Jupiter 317.8300 1,898,600 71.1583%
Saturn 95.1590 568,460 21.3055%
Uranus 14.5360 86,832 3.2544%
Neptune 17.1470 102,430 3.8390%

Total 446.6493 2,668,136 100.0000%

As you can see, one planet, Jupiter, representing a mere 12.5% of the planets, has more than 70% of the aggregate mass.

This is inequality in its most breathtakingly obvious form.

We cannot remain silent about this situation any longer.

We must mobilize and motivate others to act.

Our objective is clear.

We must Occupy Jupiter.

What Are We Doing Today???

2011-10-16T23:56:00.002-04:00

The question resounding in many Jewish homes this morning, as the children ignore the effects of the yom tov schedule, and fight their exhaustion to move on to the next stage of Succos. The Chol Hamoed trip.

We got a really late start today (company leaving, kids sleeping late, big breakfast...yes we served MORE). As I am unable to bring myself to actually venture out on a major trip after ten in the morning we did a more local, scenic trip where some of us had been before. The others missed it when they were in camp a few years ago (and one was not born yet). We just enjoyed the scenery, each other's company, and watching the boy give his mother a heart attack as he ran really close to the water really quickly.

I just love the first for the shadows and light and the second for the quaintness:

Best Wishes....

2011-09-28T09:46:00.002-04:00

....To all our readers and followers, both the commenters and the lurkers, we appreciate you! We wish you all health, happiness, prosperity and peace in the coming year!

Back to School

2011-09-21T13:43:00.001-04:00

I went to two "back to school nights" so far this week (the third is on Thursday). For those uninformed, "back to school night" is the night you come to your kids classroom, squeeze into their teensy little desk, and meet the teacher as s/he gives a short presentation of the expectations and curriculum for the year.

School is a wonderous place. A wellspring of growth and learning, if you open your mind you will most assuredly learn new things.

I have learned a lot in the past two nights.

I have learned that some kids (3rd grade)take cookies for lunch. Some kids never clean out their knapsacks, and some kids never have supplies, go to sleep on time,or bathe regularly.

But mostly I have learned that teachers have been trained to keep the parents as uninvolved as possible. "DON'T WORRY! We do all research in school, you don't have to go to the library! If you can't sign the homework (all of ten seconds) don't worry, just sign it the next night, or let an older child do it! FEAR NOT! We won't give any assignments or work or responsibilties that will have you busy with YOUR children! We know that they and their schooling are nothing but a burden, and we will do our utmost to keep you out of it!" (I'm paraphrasing, but barely)

The most ridiculous element of this is there are those parents to whom this hands off policy is a wonderful development! (It seems so odd contrasted with the parents who need to hear "please do not do your daughters report/project/poster/cover/diorama for her." likely the same parents who are still doing homework with their sixth graders. I know everyone is on a different level, but at that point in the schooling career, you just ask if they did, or check that it's done. I don't think it's appropriate to helicopter at that age, and SIT and do homework/reports with them.)

Do the parents who show up need to hear that "we won't ask you for much!"? There were two women who left a wedding to come, and two women who were running a tzedaka party who came anyway. These seem like fairly involved parents, as are most of the parents who show up. Unfortunately, I think many of these policies are a direct result of years of complaints from parents who felt they and/or their children were overburdened by what is essentially the training round for life. My policy is always to challenge children in a controlled environment because life can be challenging, so why not give them the skills and ability to cope in a fairly innocuous and safe environment.

I just rankle at this idea that they proudly tell us how little we need to do for our children.

It's Only Fair to Share

2011-09-19T23:42:00.008-04:00

You know who you are.

We also know who you are.

Soon, the entire nation will know who you are.

You are the evil, manipulative, oppressor of the masses, he/she who dares to earn more than $250,000 per annum.

For too long, you have exploited your innocent brethren, taking advantage of rules that were slanted heavily in your favor.

You reveled in your privileged upbringing, as you trod upon those less fortunate.

You stopped at nothing in your pursuit of money, and did not exhibit the appropriate level of concern for our Planet.

You caused the Global Recession.

You destroyed the housing market.

You brought the international banking system to the brink of ruin.

In your company, the Greeks were compelled to act frivolously. As were the Italians. And the Irish. And the Spanish. (Perhaps even the French. Check back with us in a couple of months).

You convinced your colleagues to buy things they could not afford, and to accept upon themselves the burden of more debt than they could handle.

You threw millions of your peers out of work.

Worst of all, until this point, you have brazenly refused to pay your fair share.

Laugh not, wealthy wanton sinner.

Your day of reckoning has arrived.

As a non-threatening, non-denominational deity or otherwise impartial being possessing above-average levels of spirituality is our witness, your fair share will, in fact, be paid.

We will seek you out, and bring you to justice.

Do not attempt to resist us, for we cannot be resisted.

Our mandate is clear and our cause is righteous, as it has been established by the Great Post-racial and Post-economic One. The wisest and most eloquent of all men. He Who Has Invented Hope.

You shall be branded as pariahs, and heaped with scorn.

You shall be branded as "millionaires and billionaires," even if your income is a fraction of those lofty levels.

You will be branded as "system riggers" and "playing field de-levelers."

You shall be made to pay your fair share.

Unworthy beings, do not waste your time attempting to repent for your unforgivable sin.

There will be no repentance. Only justice. Only the payment of the Fair Share.

For it is only when the Fair Share is paid, that we can truly bask in the benevolent light of Hope, and taste the sweet nectar of equality.

You know who you are.

And soon, you will pay your fair share.

Blogger's Note: If you currently earn more than $250,000 per year, but belong to the management of a labor union, or are numbered among the ranks of left-leaning academia or media, please disregard the above message. IcebergCarwash sincerely apologizes for any distress the above message might have caused you or any of your non-human companions.

I've Had It

2011-09-16T16:28:00.001-04:00

I'm pretty sure I've talked about this before, but I'm getting more and more upset by what I see as the fakery parading as frumkeit.

Every week when I read Mishpacha Magazine I am reminded of this again as they will not print pictures of women, and if they do, they blur the faces.

My niece recently looked at a picture of a Rebbe dancing at his daughter's wedding surrounded by at least 2,000 Chasidim on bleachers. The picture was taken at the Mitzvah Tantz, and you can see the Rebbe is holding a gartel. Logically, his daughter is at the end of that gartel, but out of the picture. My niece asked a brilliant question which I will add my own little addition to: This woman can stand in the center of a room full of THOUSANDS of men, THE ONLY FEMALE, and we need to blur the face of an 89 year old Asian woman being saved from the flooding from Hurricane Irene?????

It's Ludicrous. It's ludicrous and once again it focuses on the wrong things. If we are so afraid that our "heimishe" magazines will cause problems for men who will be sent into a spiritual downfall from seeing a picture of a ten year old girl standing at the rail of a ship in 1922, then I think are problems are so vast we should give up now. How can there be any hope of anyone being close to G-d if the most innocuous pictures and viewing will send one hurtling to the depths of impurity. I think those who cannot see the faces of these women should never leave their houses, and if they do they should wear a hood and dark glasses to easily avert their eyes. Those that truly subscribe to this, actually do it, so all those who feel that Mishpacha could be treif need to stop reading it. Who knows what other nefarious things printed in the magazine will get in their way.

That really is the solution. Family First already bills itself as a woman's magazine. Tell men not to read it, and if they do, it's their choice and their spiritual calculation. I hate that my daughters are growing up in this world of the disappearing woman. Unless she goes out to work. Then she can be anywhere and everywhere, and travel for hours...but that's a different rant

The Summer Sputters to an End

2011-09-15T13:42:00.001-04:00

I had a really nice summer. The first half was quiet with more than half the kids away for four weeks. After that it was just nice, calm, and then sister from Michigan was around (are those two mutually exclusive?).

We went to the beach twice, which apparently I still do not enjoy doing, HOWEVER, the second time was definitely better this year. Maybe because the umbrella broke in the wind and instead of everyone trying to squoosh into the shady spot we just kind of relaxed in a large circle of chairs and towels (and cabana for next generation baby who came along with his mother).

The best part of the summer was the kayaking. I decided I would try to kayak at least once a week, and I did it. I dealt with the guilt of leaving the kids and going off to do something I loved,by myself, and I managed seven times to make my way up to a nice spot that rents kayaks. I had different partners each time, and one time when my partner could not make it, I went alone. That was fantastic. I love the company, but I really loved going alone. So much so, the next week, when my friend wanted to come with me on Thursday, I went on Wednesday myself, and then Thursday with her. As we paddled (two separate kayaks- I will not do a double...ever again) and floated she asked if she was "messing up my routine." I said "don't worry, I came yesterday."
The best part is I made a goal and stuck to it, with a lot of encouragement from a lot of people, and I appreciate it.

The problem is, I still want to kayak, and child care is a little harder to come by now that all kids are back in school. It might be chilly, but I would like to try to get back in the paddle again at least twice before November. I'd love more, but I'm being realistic.

As obsessions go, at least this one is healthy, and gives me solitude, time to think and reflect, in unwired silence.

Peace.

Odd Experience

2011-09-13T16:49:00.001-04:00

Technically this could go under Grocery Adventures II, but it was so strange that at first I was thrown and then I was better able to reflect on what had happened.

I was about to make lasagna for this evening's dinner, and as my little helper was washing her hands I was laying out the materials we would need. When I went to get the noodles, I saw that we only had four whole wheat lasagna noodles left. So a quick glance at the clock told me there was time for a fast run to Shoprite, with little browsing I could be back and forth in 35 minutes, get the lasagna in the oven and still be home for the first wave of school returnees.

The shopping was uneventful (though I noted many carts laden as mine was- baby in the front and 3-4 year old in the back!), and we rapidly made our way to the checkout line. I randomly chose a line that had one woman who appeared to be finishing up. I pulled in behind her, and my little back seat carter proudly started to unload her cardboard and plastic enrobed seat mates. We had about seven items total. The woman, who looked to be in her early to mid seventies, smiled at my daughter and chuckled as she watched her, and said "I think she's going to line everything up!"

I smiled back and we chatted about nothing while she received her change. She turned to the proud four year old who had done an excellent job unloading the cart, and handed her two dollars, and said:
"You get two because you are big girl, and this one is for your brother."

She then handed the baby a dollar bill. First, I was dumbstruck. Then I told her "Thank you very much, but we cannot accept this."
She replied: "These kids need to take it so that when they see an old lady they will know that she is nice."

I protested again, and she smiled, and turned to leave the store. I thought about going up to her in the parking lot when I realized that she needed us to accept this gift. Not necessarily for the reason she said, but perhaps she is feeling something today (or maybe many days) maybe associated with her age, or just had this desire to make the kids happy. Neither of them understand the value of a dollar-in fact the 4 year old offered it to me on the way out "if you need more dollars Mommy, you can have from me if you don't have enough."

The crazy thing is this Shoprite is in the vicinity of 4 different senior housing complexes (some assisted, some not), and some of those people seem really old, and look like what you would call an "old lady," but this woman was not.

I was thinking about if she had handed my kid a bag of two dollar candy would I have thought it odd? Probably, because it's excessive, one would suffice (or nothing, but I'm going with the giving), but still not as odd as the money. It was a spur of the moment decision for her, because she gave the singles from the change she received from the cashier.

It also brought up the whole "why do strangers hand things to my kids," issue, but I guess if people are not in this mode of being suspicious about everything, to know to ask, then maybe the world has not gone to hell yet.

The cashier put it well after the woman left:

"You don't meet people who are nice for no reason very often."

Sighing

2011-09-11T00:00:00.000-04:00

A rare entry from one of the blogberg children (second oldest)

He sighs...
the monotony of life
same old traffic
same old office building
same old view
the only difference
the leaves changing color
fall, September 11
He sighs...
same old parking spot
same old doorman
same old elevator ride
up to the 90th floor
same old view
No!
great dark clouds of billowing smoke
pillars of flame
building collapsing
furniture overturned
bloodcurdling screams
chaos confusion crying
He sighs...
a low moan from deep inside
of intense pain
and paralyzing fear
crawling to the stairs
his shirt ripped off
wrapped around his mouth
acrid smoke stings his eyes
Finally...
the stairs
packs of people
rushing
screaming
as floors above cave in
finally...
finally...
he bursts through the smoke
the fire
the rubble
a rescue worker sees him
He sighs....
blood trickles from a cut above his eye
face scratched
torn clothing
covered in soot
limping
staggering
collapsing
loaded onto a stretcher
siren wailing
lights flashing
rushed to the hospital
He sighs...
pain courses through his body
his room is full of flowers
cards
visitors
but he is empty
his entire life reduced to rubble
everything important to him
burned from 100 floors up
down to ground zero
He sighs...
wishing
dreaming
for the monotony of life
same old traffic
same old office building
same old view
same old life
He sighs....

Grocery Adventures

2011-09-09T11:25:00.000-04:00

A large part of my life it seems, is spent grocery shopping. As such on occasion I come upon weird happenings and products.

Yesterday, I was at the local grocery store and was looking through the meat case to see if there was anything interesting to bring home for the coming Holidays. The way it works here is if you see it? Buy it. Unless you want to stand around in the back room surrounded by sides of beef watching customers slip on the bits of fat strewn on the crimson stained floor, waiting for the meat room personnel to give you the pieces you want. A twenty minute trip can take an hour or more.

Well, looking through the case I found a small package of what appeared to be well marbled beef. The piece was no thicker than a box of cigarettes laid on its side, and no longer than six inches. I looked at the name of this meat with a cute "I'm new" sticker affixed to the front, and saw it was called "Surprise Steak." Then I looked at the price and I saw what the "Surprise" was.
$37.99 PER POUND!!!!!!!

I showed it to one of the women who work in the store, just in a "can you believe this?" kind of way (she was in the aisle), and she said "that must be a mistake." I knew it was not a mistake, because I have seen other pricey cuts at other stores in the neighborhood. She came back with the meat guy who told me it was not a mistake (which I knew), but then he explained why it was pricey. He said to get this particular cut, a lot of others cuts end up ruined, so they need to make it expensive.

People are crazy!

Rhetorician-in-Chief

2011-09-05T15:25:00.005-04:00

As our incredibly stubborn recession grinds on, with the U.S. economy expected by most economists to grow at less than a 2.0% annual rate (if at all), the jobs picture remains bleak.

Headed into the Labor Day weekend, we were informed that no jobs were added to the economy in August, and the unemployment rate remains at 9.1%. Other numbers, such as the underemployment rate, the average length of unemployment and the labor participation rate, further underscore the dire situation in which we find ourselves.

Against this bleak backdrop, President Obama is scheduled to address the nation this week, ostensibly to reveal his plan for creating jobs.

This speech is probably one of the most important ones in Mr. Obama's political career. The nation is waiting for him to exhibit leadership, and to provide and promote concrete ideas for putting Americans back to work.

With that in mind, here are some things that I believe the President should not do in the course of delivering this critical address:

(1) Blame the current situation on the previous administration.

(2) Blame the current situation on Wall Street profiteers.

(3) Indicate that there are those who need to "pay their fair share."

(4) Mention the importance of protecting the environment while growing the economy.

(5) Congratulate himself for implementing health care reform (when he should have been focusing on job creation).

(6) Talk about the need for long-term tax reform.

(7) Talk about the need for "responsible" deficit reduction.

(8) Speak petulantly about anyone - from either party - who does not agree with him.

Items #6 and #7, while important, don't really have a place in this week's address. Americans want to hear specific details about what the administration will do now to create jobs. The bigger picture budget discussions are for another day.

With the foregoing list in mind, here's what I predict the President will talk about this week in his address:

(1) The previous administration's culpability in creating the current situation.

(2) The profits that Wall Street has generated even as millions of Americans remain out of work.

(3) The need for some portions of the population to pay their fair share.

(4) The importance of protecting the environment while growing the economy.

(5) The recent reform of health care laws.

(6) The need for long-term tax reform.

(7) The need for "responsible" deficit reduction.

(8) The idea that anyone who opposes him is at best a fool, and at worst, wishes harm upon our nation.

In summary, I fully expect the President to discuss everything that he shouldn't mention.

This is because President Obama simply can't help himself.

He is a self-absorbed idealist, who doesn't possess the skill needed to lead.
Oftentimes, the "smartest guy in the room" is completely useless when bullets start to fly.

In addition, the reason we're not likely to hear any good job creation ideas from the President is that neither he nor his merry band of liberal advisers have any.

Of course, it's probably unfair of me to indict the President's address days before it's even delivered. Perhaps he'll surprise us, and provide something meaningful and insightful.

I'm not holding my breath.

It's Funny Cuz It's True

2011-09-04T21:56:00.000-04:00

Our almost 14 year old just came back from a trip to Israel. Her grandparents took her and her 12 year old cousin in honor of their bas mitzvahs (one was belated, obviously). The girls had a super time, and our daughter was regaling us with details of her activities.

"Cousin and I did this," "Cousin and I went here," "Cousin and I walked there," "Cousin and I saw this," "Cousin and I saw that..." said the traveler.

Little-Miss-Sleep-in-the- Laundry-Room, couldn't take it anymore. "Cousin and I, cousin and I, SAY COUSIN AND ME! OR ME AND COUSIN!!!"

MBB gently explained that "you know, 'Cousin and I' is grammatically correct."

She thought a moment and countered with:

"Well it's GRAMMATICALLY ANNOYING "

Not a Place I Want to Be

2011-09-04T08:42:00.000-04:00

I recently had an interaction with a fellow who I will call Pomp. Pomp is short for pompous, and the name is apt because I have never in my life, that I can easily recall, had an interaction with someone who was so pompous and condescending and so full of himself while being full of something else at the same time.

I contacted Pomp because he was in charge of a project that was accepting bids for certain contracted work. There's a fellow I know who needs jobs, is good at what he does, and I wanted to know if the bidding was still open. Eventually he told me that the guy could contact him to get the bid info, but this was also after telling me that everyone in business is just out for themselves, and essentially if you ever have loyalty to someone who does work in your house you are a fool, because they will just cheat you. The fact that you know a job will be done well, and guaranteed with good service in the case of a problem is moot. It all comes down to getting the best price, and if you don't well then the world is gonna take advantage of you.

How sad. How sad and pathetic. This man claims to be a businessman, well I know plenty of businessmen who would very much be out of business if their relationships with their customers and suppliers were not a factor in their dealings. If everything were always only based on the best deal then only the cheapest companies would make money.

I was reading an article this weekend about my favorite Mayor, Michale Bloomberg. As much as I chide him for his pomposity and nannyish ways, he is a huge philanthropist, and also loyal to a fault to his executives and political aides. Now, this is a guy who has made loyalty part of who he is, and part of who he is is a billionaire. I don't know for sure, but I'd bet it's not an attribute he developed AFTER he made all that money.

I feel sad for Pomp that he lives in such a cynical world, a world in which everyone is out to get you. The main thing I realized is that I never want to do business with him, and certainly if ever I am in need of his services, I would certainly look elsewhere, even if he's cheaper. Because relationships matter, and I don't want to live in a world where they don't.

Hurricane Irene

2011-08-30T16:32:00.003-04:00

Thanks to Hurricane Irene, which we all apparently survived thanks to the Democracy abusing Mayor, Michael Bloomberg (You know, they[critics] should just look in the mirror,” Mr. Bloomberg replied. “They’re alive today, whether because of it or in spite of it. We’re just not going to take any risk with people’s lives.”) we have no internet access.

So for the moment we are using family computers on the other side of town, where a tree did not knock out phone and electric wires a few blocks from the house. We didn't lose power, and they've cut the trees off the wires, but the electric company seems to be busy with other things (restoring power) so they haven't lifted the wires, and I think the cable company doesn't get their chance to fix it until electric and phone are done. Can you say REFUND?

Anyway the tales of our last gasps of summer will have to wait. The web will be a lonely place until we post again......

County Fair!

2011-08-25T14:17:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, we went to the Dutchess County fair. I wasn't sure what kind of crowd we would encounter, it really could go either way. It could be raucous and young and tattooed, or, on a Wednesday afternoon it could be a fairly older, staid crowd. We, thankfully, came at a time when we could join the latter.

Last year we went to the Middlesex County fair in New Jersey. It was a completely different experience. The fair we attended yesterday was probably five times the size of the one in New Jersey, and this time we went during the day. There were at least five building with livestock, who, along with their owners seemed to be just sitting around waiting to be judged, there were horse shows and canine shows, but less other entertainment. We saw more shows last year, and the whole place smelled better (see above: livestock, horses, et al), but this fair had an educational section: "Century Museum Antique Village" room size dioramas of life in the late 19th, early 20th century. The little one was quite pleased with herself that she could differentiate the mannequins from the ACTUAL people in each display. I was considerable less impressed with that feat.

While some stayed for the blacksmith demonstration, same little one needed the bathroom. There was a port-a-john about ten feet away from us, but since I have an intense aversion to those, and she was not yet in hopping need, we opted to walk to the restrooms. It wasn't far, and totally worth it. They were pristine. Someone was constantly cleaning them (same thing later, when we stopped at a different restroom), all the smells came from the livestock walking around right nearby.

An observation: Cows can be really pretty. Who knew? Probably all the people who take their cows to be judged at various fairs in various counties and states. There was one beautiful black cow and one black and white cow that had blue outlining the black oblong shapes, it was really pretty. Though it's not likely I'd be able to differentiate the smaller sub-categories, things like "nicest udder." (that is not a joke)

We made our way up to the horse area, the dog shows, and then finally the rides. We didn't find the kiddie rides until after we had sent the little kids through a fun-house that basically was just a bunch of moving floors!

We checked out lots of vendors, interesting crafts, and picked up some yummy plums and cherry tomatoes (the only thing we could get in the "specialty food building"). There is no question that the big draw of a fair are the various food vendors and homemade delectables.

We had fun anyway.

Editor!!!

2011-08-23T11:54:00.003-04:00

I am not sure where this falls on the unintentional comedy scale, but it's definitely on there:

New Jersey Doctor Accused of Poking Girl With Screwdriver

Published August 23, 2011

| Associated Press

NEWARK, N.J.-- New Jersey regulators have suspended the license of a northern New Jersey physician accused of poking a 13-year-old child more than 100 times with a screwdriver, causing bruises and small cuts.

The state Board of Medical Examiners announced the action Monday against Dr. Sylvia Lee of Emerson, an allergist who practiced in Old Bridge.

Lee was arrested at her home on July 3 on charges of aggravated assault and child endangerment. The alleged victim was identified only as a 13-year-old female. The complaint does not specify the child's relationship with Lee.

Police say Lee jabbed the child with the flathead screwdriver in a dispute over household chores.
An after-hours message was left Monday for Lee's attorney, Jay J. Friedrich of Ridgewood.

Why would they portray this as professional misconduct if it was about household chores? And she's an allergist and her default punishment is JABBING SOMEONE?!!?!? She must do that all day when she does testing and allergy shots! Even if she hadn't had her license suspended would you want to go to an allergist who LIKES POKING PEOPLE???????

Cray. Zee

Staycation?

2011-08-18T19:13:00.003-04:00

Who knew you could be on vacation at home?

Midwest sister is in town, which means the kids have slumber parties and play together all day. It means Sis and I hang out, do errands, swim and generally enjoy each other's company.

Now, she is away so things like meals and laundry can sort of be relegated to "vacation mode." I, on the other hand, am not away, but very much in my house. Apparently, pretending not to be, because laundry and meals and other small domestic responsibilities seem to have gone by the way side.

Either she's a bad influence, or this is just the best summer ever. I'm thinking the latter. We need to take the kids to the local park and get a good game of Sand Newcomb going.

I wish she could stay longer.

10 Questions

2011-08-16T09:20:00.003-04:00

Mishpacha Magazine has a feature called 10 Questions, where they ask a person ten questions about things they seem to have some sort of expertise in. It could be questions relating to a profession, a social issue or just a cultural phenomenon. This week, Mishpacha highlighted a gas station owner who sells a pareve chulent at his gas station on Thursday night.

I wasn't impressed with the interview, which as always is the fault of the reporter. These would be my questions:

1)There are certain business that we are used to hearing Frum people being involved with (jewlery, real estate are just two examples), how did you decide to buy a gas station?

2)Wow! A Chassidishe guy owns a gas station on a major thoroughfare in the county that is closed on Shabbos. Did you find that it took longer then expected (based on market research of other gas stations in similar neighborhoods) being closed on one of the busiest shopping/outings days in the non Frum world?

3)When setting up the convenience store did you always plan to make it a heimishe place with kosher food, kosher reading material and cds?

4)Did you consider, being a heimishe place, not selling lottery tickets or cigarettes?

5)The big news about your gas station is your Thursday night chulent. Do you have a hechsher?

6)Could your lack of hechsher, plus popularity, chip away at the kashrus system we have in place, that in order to sell food and be taken seriously, one needs to have an outside agency or Rav supervising the kashrus-one who does not have a financial stake in the selling of the food?

7)Do you have to follow any of the guidelines of the board of health? Do they inspect your facility, or the facilities where you prepare this food?

8)You claim to have been the first to have chulent on Thursday night and all others followed you. Does your Town not have take out food stores , so you filled a need that was just not there before you started serving and selling your meatless chulent?

9) Do you see yourself branching out to more gas stations?

10)Do you see yourself branching out into more "Thursday night fare,' and if you expanded your menu, would you feel any responsibility to get a hechsher?

Non-Sequitur

2011-08-14T11:29:00.004-04:00

As much as I hate to admit it, I am getting too old to manage on just three or four hours of shut eye. One, because physically it takes its toll, and two, I just don't have the time or BH lack of responsibilities to be able to make it up by sleeping as late as I'd like. I think this is one of the major indications of one's age. You can stay up, that's not the problem, it's how it affects you the rest of the day/week/month that really brings it home. (If you want to really feel old, and you are female, go to a wedding and try dancing. The minute the young girls see who's hand they are holding they will drop it like a hot potato and start an new circle without anyone over age 25)

These sleep patterns are unlike those of the many teenagers currently residing at this address. I sometimes wonder if I did not wake them how long they would actually go. If they did that, they'd stay up really late the next night because "I slept all day," so the cycle would continue.

This morning at about 7:00 am, after a very late night hanging out like a teenager until two in the morning (then getting home and getting the non sleeping actual teenagers into bed before retiring at about 2:45), little four year old came into my room. At some point during her yap fest I mentioned that we should try to sleep, because "I love sleep."

She looked at me with her eyes huge and replied:

"I LOVE candy.".

Of course she does.

He is Frummer Than I

2011-08-10T17:58:00.003-04:00

In today's day and age everybody seems to be trying to be prove how much frummer he is than the next guy.

I went shopping today, as I often do, more often than I should probably, and I learned how true this is.

I did a medium size shopping, but wasn't in the mood to shlep the bags home, luckily, the store offers free delivery. I asked that they deliver my items, minus some chicken, flanken and cheese.

The non-Jewish Spanish guy was putting the items in the bag I would be carrying home with me, (as opposed to the box that would be delivered later), and I handed him the cheese "This can go in there too," I innocently instructed him.

In his broken English he informed "That's cheese-separate,separate."

I started to explain that everything was in packages, but he just shook his head and put the sun dried tomato and basil encrusted fresh mozzarella in its own bag.

Then he gave me a big smile.

Slow Sunday

2011-08-07T18:35:00.005-04:00

Needing to catch up on sleep, I crawled back into bed at 9:45 this morning. Being just a few days before Tisha B'av we had no big plans for the day, nothing beyond the misery of going through and organizing all the toys. We figured it was a good activity for "Shavua She Chal Bo," and spent the past few days alerting the masses in the house that that would be the activity for Sunday.

When I went in for my late morning zzzzs the girls were mostly still in bed. I did not wake them, because they don't go to work on Sunday, and I figured not much would happen anyway if I was in bed.

I was wrong. When I got up from my nap, the toys were almost completely arranged, organized and discarded. I could not believe that they had gotten up did their morning routine, and then just got to work on what they knew I wanted done!

Once everything was really finished, a few hours later, we piled into the car for a ride to a self serve yogurt place about half an hour away from us. It was actually fun, though the amount each one took was different so it would be hard to compare the cost with a place like Carvel (though everyone took the amount they wanted, not too little not too much, none leftover!)even with the total amount costing the same. So per pound it may have been more, but we all got what we liked.

We ate it a park down the block from the store, the little kids playing in the playground, and the big ones shmoozing with their camp friends who they alerted that they'd be in the area.

Two of the kids wanted to bike ride when we returned, so off we went.

Bike riding, ice cream, and a major job tackled. Not bad for a do nothing Sunday

Diagnosed

2011-08-04T15:50:00.002-04:00

Some of you may recall a few weeks ago I was lamenting the state of my ankle.

Well, it hasn't gotten better, in fact, it has gotten worse. I finally went to the orthopedist today. It's not broken, but it was sprained, and my flat duck feet aren't doing it any favors in the promotion of healing department. I have custom orthotics, but they are over twenty years old, and apparently it's time for new ones.

Fiiine.

Appointment is set for Monday at the podiatrist for new arches. The sticky wicket now is the doctor wants me to go for physical therapy. Which means at least an hour twice a week. In the Summer!!! What a kick in the.....ankle! The first place I called set everything up then called back to say they need authorization, so, no, we don't want you (And this is BEFORE OBAMACARE!).

Now I gotta find a place and stick into my schedule of doing nothing, kayaking and swimming. When will I find the time? To add injury to injury I tripped over a new box of Oxiclean and the edge of the box stabbed me right in the particular spot that the ankle is tender.

Whatever.

Fate

2011-08-03T12:45:00.002-04:00

There are many stories, some motion pictures, of people who avoid what appears to be their fate, only to succumb at a later time in a similar or even exact same way. I recently had this experience.

With my bluetooth.

For those of you who do not see me on a regular basis, or only see me on Shabbos or Yom Tov, you may not know, that I and my bluetooth are rarely separated. In fact, I am quite certain that there may come a Friday night, when I am ready to light candles (probably in the winter, when I will have showered early in the day), and may indeed find the apparatus still attached to my ear.

For those not yet converted to the joys of a bluetooth, just know, if you get one, you may want to get an unlimited calling plan with it. It is so easy to cook and clean and pretty much do anything hands free, that once you try it, you will never want to go back to the neck straining mode of holding the phone with your shoulder while peeling potatoes, or washing dishes (no, not talking on the phone is NOT an option).

Last year, while watching the kids at the pool, I leaned over, and "spelunk," it fell off my ear, and into the pool. I resigned myself to a trip to the store for a new bluetooth ( I get the cheapest one-the plantronics is so comfortable!). We fished it out, and I decided to see if it could be salvaged. I had a number of those "DO NOT EAT" sillica gel packs that are meant to keep clothes and shoes moisture free, and I put them in a ziplock back with the bluetooth for three days. Lo and behold! It worked! The range was no longer thirty feet between phone and bluetooth (though I'm still not convinced that it's not my lousy phone), but otherwise it was as good as it had been.

This summer, I am enjoying my resolution to go kayaking once a week. (I'm having a super time with it-alone and with others) I wear a fanny pack, in which I put the car keys and my phone, safely ensconced in a "water wallet." What is a water wallet? Well, many moons ago MBB bought a bathing suit that touted a "water wallet" as a great feature that was included in the bathing suit. He bought it online, so we waited, with much anticipation to see this water wallet. It turned out to be a a ziplock sandwich bag(freezer bag strength). So now, when I go kayaking, I take a water wallet from the many boxes of them we have handy in the pantry. I like to wear the bluetooth, because I obviously do not take the baby with me, and if someone calls me, I can pick up the phone without removing it from the fannypack. It would be more of a hassle to replace the phone (pictures, contacts) then to replace the bluetooth. Plus, I have built in bluetooth in the car, so even when I don't have an earpiece I can abide by the law and continue hands-free driving.

Unfortunately, the last time I went the bluetooth slipped off my ear as I got into the kayak, and finally, met it's watery demise.

Sleep well with the fishes, my friend.

The Enemy of My Enemy...

2011-08-02T19:00:00.002-04:00

I don't know a lot about the current debt ceiling crisis, I just know that the New York Times editorial board hates the "deal," which makes me quite certain that whatever it is, it's a good idea!

Seriously, there is one aspect of economics I don't really understand. Social Security. I think it should be structured more like insurance for retirement, versus guaranteed pay out for retirement. There are many people who do not need the money from the government, and though they've paid into it, I still think it should be doled out on a need basis. As for all those years that people paid into it? As I said it's insurance, it gives them the opportunity to make risky investments in their older age, or visit casinos a few times a year, because if they fall on hard times, Social Security will then be there to prop them up!

Before you yell socialism, think about it. It makes sense.

Sigh

2011-07-26T14:39:00.002-04:00

The garage smells like camp, and there are eight bulging bags of laundry and one duffel bag full of blankets and pillows awaiting a trip to the laundromat. Supper was an actual meal, with table settings and everything. There are sneakers and papers everywhere, there is talking and singing and arguing. The quiet is gone. The house that shuts down at 8 pm, a mere memory. But last night I couldn't stop smiling as I passed all the rooms with all those sleeping kids.

Under one roof.

"Second Half"

2011-07-25T11:43:00.002-04:00

The official second half of summer begins today when the girls return from their four week stint in overnight camp. Feeding three little kids a steady (unhealthy) diet of ice cream, "Tradition" (ramen noodle)soups, hot dogs and scrambled eggs will come to a close. It's back to proper suppers for a crowd, breakfast for a clan, and lunch for the two who'll be hanging with me.

The kayaking will be easier with babysitters back in the house, and I may even try for twice a week. Last week my kayaking partner had to cancel, but I went myself. I missed her, but the solitude was great, and the level of the workout was better, as I did less floating for shmoozing purposes, and more actual paddling.

Yesterday we took the little kids to Easton, PA to the Crayola Factory. We hadn't been there in ten years, and having only the younger set with us it was the perfect outing for the perfect ages, and they had a fantastic time. Sunday in the summer at the tail end of a heat wave is not necessarily the best time to go to a kid friendly INDOOR activity from a crowd perspective, but it really didn't feel crowded and there were lots of projects available. I thought we'd stay for two hours, (based on what the website said), but between Crayola and the canal museum (connected, read: one price for both), we left after four hours. I'd love to say the trip home was uneventful, but someone (me) changed the baby a little too quickly when we were leaving, and he had a very messy "accident" on the way home. That meant a shoulder stop to clean everything up, and a garbage stop. Of course there were no rest stops, so it meant getting off the exit and driving about five miles in until we could find a trash receptacle. Seriously, it was all residential and we could not find a garbage can. Richard III came to mind.

There's a lot more summer left, we hope to use it well.

Summer Harvest

2011-07-17T21:22:00.000-04:00

A summer day that is spent almost entirely outside, is pretty close to perfect just in that regard. When you boil it down to the activities, it can just make you sigh with delight. There's a certain joy in just having a day where you don't do much more than appreciate the beautiful world Hashm created. And eat confections made from that world.

As we did last summer, and per request of the little girls at home, blueberry picking was the agenda for the day. What a difference a year makes! No longer a newborn, boy was very happy to scarf as many blueberries as we'd give him. Four year old was more than able to determine the "very fat- very blue" berries peeking out from under leaves, and clustered, seemingly oddly, with completely green, unripe berries. The current eldest, was so proud to navigate the rows on her own, filling her heart shaped basket with only the choicest fruits. When they had enough, we walked back to the car, still in good moods despite the heat, and made our way to a placid park near the farm, where lunch was eaten under a shady tree next to a pond with two elegantly spouting fountains.

There were other picnickers, each staking out their own shady patch of green. We assumed them to be locals (unlike us), and the very few of this town who were not riding their bikes or running/jogging on the main road, the one with no shoulder. And twists and turns. Lots of twists and turns. It was actually a fairly scary experience, never knowing when a cyclist would be around the next bend with another car approaching from the opposite direction.

We made our way home, and appreciated the generosity of my sister, as the girls were able to show their father how good they've gotten in the pool. Remarkably, the four year old has learned to swim without "floaties," even though her only swimming without them takes place in camp, which has only been a few weeks!

There was enough time to come home, dry off, whip up blueberry muffins and a quick blueberry plum cobbler until it was time to run off to a family bar-b-cue. Good food, good fun, good people.

Good day.

The Devil in the Details

2011-07-14T15:18:00.003-04:00

Why is there such a great fascination with every minute- second really- of this horrible, tragic, heart wrenching case?

Probably because the more information we gather, the more we know, the more easily we hope or think or pray we will be able to prevent this in our own lives.

We hope this family can one day find peace.

Yeah, I Guess So...

2011-07-12T10:35:00.003-04:00

The girls' camp will print emails sent to campers, which are then distributed with the regular mail. This allows for quick short notes, or long missives, but the kids will get them later that day, provided that it is sent in by a certain time (they only print the emails once a day- otherwise, they get it the next day). Sometime it ends up being a lot of pressure, especially when not much is going on.

One of the girls (she likes to call herself PG-13- PIANO GIRL 13- her hobby and age mixed together)has been writing fairly regularly (in ten days we've received three letters and three postcards). She seems to understand why the emails are somewhat sporadic.

Here's what she wrote:

Based on your e-mails (thank you!)sounds like you are keeping up a steady summer routine (of monotony and fun)

Indeed

The View from the Mountains

2011-07-11T11:49:00.008-04:00

For the first time in a few years we had a new kid in camp. Though, she's been going up to this camp since she's three years old, it hardly seemed like it would be hard for her. That and three sisters and three cousins n camp with her, made for a smooth transition into one of the overnight campers. (It helps that her oldest sister is a JC in the bunkhouse right next door).

Because one of the girls is now staff our day changed a bit. We waited around on campus until she could leave. The only problem was, we've been there so many times that there is very little left to "see." We managed to just sit around and shmooze, with nieces and and aunts and uncles, and as a great surprise to my family...grandmother!!! MY kids were quite excited that she had come up, and were happy that she got to see the camp (thrilled with the cookies as well).

This year we did some more research and found a place not far from camp called Irving Cliff. IT was named after Washington Irving:

In 1841 a group of prominent New York City businessmen, its mayor Philip Hone, and author Washington Irving traveled by canal boat from Rondout, New York, to Honesdale. The large rock cliff 300 feet above the town so impressed Washington Irving that he deemed it necessary to climb to its summit. Later Philip Hone named the Cliff after his friend.
In 1883 John Alden Wood began constructing a summer hotel on the summit of Irving Cliff. The four-story high, castellated-style building included elevator service. All 125 bedrooms had private bathrooms. Construction was completed in 1885. The Irving Cliff Hotel was scheduled to open on June 22. 1889, but burned to the ground the evening of May 28, 1889. The cause of the fire was never determined.

After enjoying the views, we came back down, traversed a small footbridge over the Lackawanna River, fed some ducks, and made our way over to a small shul that was established in 1849. Unfortunately what was started as an Orthodox (yekkish!) shul is now a reform congregation, but I peeked inside a window, and it seemed like there was an upstairs balcony:

The Hebrew congregation was first formed in 1849 by ten German immigrant families, with services being held in the home of Mr. Waller, which was located on Upper Main Street. In 1856, the Delaware & Hudson Co., through the intercession of Russell F. Lord, donated the present riverbank site as a building lot. In addition, Mr. Lord donated money for the construction of a place of worship. The Temple was dedicated on September 10, 1856 and has the unique distinction of being the smallest synagogue in the United States. During the flood of 1942, when most of the riverbank structures were swept away, the little Temple stood, "It fell not for it was founded on a Rock."

(it's not a great picture, in that the shul was built in the "church" style and has a small steeple on top, which apparently I missed in this shot, most likely due to the slamming of the car door, as one of the girls threatened to walk back to camp-(15 miles?)and I needed to stop taking pictures a referee ten days of pent up non-fighting!)

Then a quick supermarket run to replenish some stock, back to camp, another loooooong goodbye, and off we went, with minimal traffic.

It was a really nice day.

GUEST BLOGGER

2011-07-07T11:30:00.005-04:00

Though we don't often have guest bloggers, we felt this was a particularly interesting post by the ubiquitous commenter: DOOBIE....enjoy!

My son came home from shul the other day a bit upset. He had carefully moved a pair of glasses that were on the table in front of him out of the way so he could put his tallis and tefillin down. He wasn't careful to put them down on the arms and put the glasses down lens first. After davening the owner of the glasses came over to my son and told him that he had scratched his lenses and that it would cost him $200.00 to fix.

My son was surprised by that number and asked if he really thought it would be that much to replace. The man told him that maybe he will find out first how much it would cost to replace and let us know.

When my son got home he counted out some of the money he keeps in a safe at home and then told me about it. Of course I was outraged. I couldn't imagine it could cost that much just to replace a lens but I was even more surprised that so much damage could have occured by placing the glasses upside down. I of course jumped to the conclusion that the man was taking advantage of my son and trying to get a new pair of glasses out of a boy's mistake. (Though, my son probably should not have touched the man's stuff in the first place) When I spoke with my husband about it later, we decided to ask our Rav if our son was liable for the damage halachikly, and it turns out he was.

But to minimize the costs we decided we would call the man and ask him if we could take care of the replacement lenses ourselves. (Having an uncle in the eyecare business, I was hoping we could get it fixed for cheaper).

My husband called the man, and then told me that as soon as the man heard who was calling, he laughed. The whole thing was a JOKE meant to unnerve my son, worry him, or scare him, all of which it did. The man even mentioned that another boy watching this whole exchange thought it was funny too.

My son did not! Not when he couldn't imagine he did that much damage by something seemingly so innocuous, not when he asked if it would really cost that much, not when he had to call a Rav and say he might have damaged someone else's things, and not when he had an argument with his father about not doing things that might have big consequences even when seemingly small.

I so don't understand this type of joke. I have never understood or liked practical jokes. So much so, that I am likely to unfavorably judge anyone who does think these types of jokes are funny. To me, it seems that if the only way something is funny is if another person is embarrassed or scared or made fun of, it can't be that funny in the first place. Any joke that must be at someone else's expense is inherently not funny. It only makes the person playing the joke feel better. And for how long? They got a laugh at someone else's expense, and if lucky got others to laugh too- thereby making the butt of the joke more embarrassed and themselves the life of the party on another's cheshbon. This man likely left shul without giving it another thought. My son (and I) were bothered most of the day. At first because he was upset he had damaged the glasses (when that seemed so unlikely based on the action) then because that is a lot of money to pay for small mistake. Then a bit of embarrassment to call the Rav and admit the mistake. And most especially later when he found he was just the butt of a silly joke. I was bothered for most of the same reasons and in addition having had an argument with my husband about not being Dan L'chaf Zechus about the man asking for that kind of money for something that seemed so unlikely to me. So here we have a situation where one man (and possibly some onlookers) had a moment (or two) of thinking something is funny and as a result caused all sorts of anguish, embarrassment, argument and bad feelings.

Do you think it was worth the "joke?"

Be Safe

2011-07-07T10:35:00.002-04:00

I wish I understood how people are so easily able to do things that are just so glaringly, stupid and risky. I know that teenagers (and older people) never think any thing will really happen to them, and that safeguards are silly, and "you gotta live a little." Unfortunately, that is possibly exactly how long they may live IF THEY KEEP RIDING THEIR BIKE WITH NO HELMET ON AND EARBUDS IN THEIR EARS- IN THE MIDDLE OF TRAFFIC!!!!

OK, I feel better now.

Meandering in the Midwest

2011-07-05T13:34:00.002-04:00

Lucky for me MBB's cousin was making a bar mitzvah for his eldest son in Cleveland on July 4th weekend. Why was that lucky for me? Because Cleveland is only 190 miles from the suburb of Detroit where my sister lives, and being that my son is bar mitzvah age in months only, the only way to attend the event without the boy, would be to leave him with my sister. Conversely, the only way to get a certain someone to agree to go to my sister (really to take off of work) was to go to the bar mitzvah!

So we bought 4 tickets to Detroit, and off we went, holding a screaming infant for the, thankfully, very short flight. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I don't recall ever really traveling on a Holiday weekend and I was prepared for the worst. We got to the parking facility on Thursday with plenty of time to spare. The shuttle came to pick us up, and promptly drove around the entire airport TO THE WRONG AIRLINE. "OH, I thought you said US AIR. Sorry." Back around the ring that is LAguardia we went, deposited in front of the Delta doors not much worse for wear.

The lines outside were about six deep, and then we found a curbside counter that had one person being helped and we waited a few minutes until we noticed the "Priority/First Class," sign. We are first class people, certainly, but not on air travel, thus our next destination was inside the terminal.

The doors we chose to enter were right at the security line, which looked to be about 100 people deep. We gulped as we walked, and walked and walked passed a sea of humanity to the end of the check in line at the indoor counter, which was at least 50 people deep, and probably more. As Mbb stood on line with the three kids, I hopped outside, and saw that the counters with six people were now down to two, inquired whether this was check in for all types, and we made our way out there.

MBB mentioned that he overheard two security people discussing opening a new area, and when we came back inside, a new security line was indeed open. Essentially what would have taken us OVER AN HOUR for check in and security, took under ten minutes.

Approaching our gate it was hard not to notice how nice it looked, very modern and set up with small tables, and booth like seating. A computer was mounted just above the table on a low wall witha menu to order munchies and have them brought to you at the gate. We sat the girls down, and gave them their home-made sandwiches (lunch), and glancing over at another table saw that these were not just menus, but IPADS with games and browsers. I had two rousing games of tic-tac-toe with seven year old, checked out google earth together, and surfed the web to figure out how to do something with the baby carrier I was struggling with.

The girls were great on the flight, the boy, as noted above, not so much, but we got there safe and sound, the cousins all thrilled to see each other and get playing!

Friday MBB and I borrowed BIL's car and made our way to Cleveland for the festivities. It's amazing how fast a trip goes when you are driving somewhere and you don't know the landscape. When we drive to Baltimore every landmark is familiar if not well known, and indicates how much time is left until arrival. Driving here, aside from all the scenery being new, Keeping track of the mileage was the only way to know how long the trip should/would take, and the time flew. The weather was perfect, the drive uncomplicated, and the traffic non-existent. It helps that the speed limit is 65 or 70 thus allowing for some fast speeds without the worry of getting a ticket.

The bar mitzvah was lovely, the drive home a little tough, the first hour marked by a downpour and sudden flashes of super bright lightning.

Sunday, we took all the kids to the zoo. A boiling hot day, yet the zoo was prepared. Misting stations and free ice and water were available throughout. I am not really a fan of zoos in which you walk more than you see wildlife, even though that's best probably best for the animals, as it generally indicates a large enclosure. You know what's really best for the animals? NOT BEING IN THE ZOO! This zoo no longer has elephants, as one nephew put it "they gave it back to Africa," so we're not even sure it's a REAL zoo. (Actually, it's a really great zoo, the animals are very active, more so then other zoos we've been to...)

The day was not over when we got back ( It really never ends there, it's light...forever), and the kids ran to change into bathing suits as the "grown ups" set up the "SLIP n' SLIDE," a toy not unlike the game Red Rover, you haven't really played until someone is crying. I'd like to know who came up with the design for this particular back yard activity. Lay a very thin plastic sheet out on the grass,have a constant spray of water on it, run and slide on your stomach down the sheet. OF COURSE PEOPLE GET HURT! They're either purposely belly flopping ONTO A SEMI-HARD SURFACE, or they run and slip! It's not something that needs to be worried about for long, they rip after a few uses anyway...

The kids had a great BBQ, then went inside, and the four adults had a lovely al fresco dinner, a beautiful breeze blowing as we dined.

Monday, we were leaving, but managed to squeeze in the park, and a quick dip in a friend's 4 foot deep (salt water!) backyard pool before heading to the airport. Our gate was far enough away that we needed to ride the tram (we would have either way, but now it had purpose!) The flight home was uneventful, the boy behaved better, but not great, and the car was waiting for us when we got off the bus at the parking facility. Driving home we saw many illegal fireworks, various legal municipal ones, and glimpsed the big Macy's display two or three times, it was lovely. Earlier, when we flew into Laguardia, the pilot flew past Queens, then around Manhattan, so we could see a flotilla of boats in the water waiting to see the show, with a police boat stopping all marine traffic at a certain point, and beyond that the six barges anchored on the river. The kids felt like they saw a lot on the way home, and suggested that next year we just drive that route again to see all the different displays. They really were coming from all angles.

Now we're home, missing the big girls (just a little), and ready for the next adventure...

They're Off!

2011-06-29T09:51:00.002-04:00

Not quite an empty nest, but it feels like it, and they've only been gone for five minutes!

The big one left on Monday night, off to the salt mines now that she's staff. The others are joining her today, and after the frenzy of gathering and packing and sending one to camp for the first time, I feel like a balloon that's deflating. (I guess that's better than popping).

I'm left with mixed feelings. I am very excited for them for this opportunity to meet new people and just get out of their usual routines. I'm excited for the kids left behind that they can also get out of their usual routines as all the dynamics in the house will shift. I'm excited for the relative quiet, but go back and forth between feeling guilty that I'm excited about it, and not feeling guilty because I sent them off to have a great time.

I hope they do.

The Season Begins

2011-06-26T23:35:00.006-04:00

Our official SUMMER KICKOFF was rained out the other night (see below),though now we're in the thick of things.

Shopping, labeling and packing for camp was the order of the day, and it might just take the rest of the summer to clean up the residual mess, though I'm not quite sure how that's possible since they take most of their stuff with them. At one point there was a lull in the action as we waited for ANOTHER load of towels to be ready, and we took the opportunity to run a quick errand.

Apparently it wasn't that quick, because when we returned we had missed the baby's inaugural dip in the kiddie pool, complete with his new bathing suit and rash guard t-shirt (I think I'll have a hard time getting used to "just shorts" bathing suits!).

I'm glad MBB made it fun, even though the 7 year old was disappointed that one of the "sleep away camp girls" stayed home, thus making it impossible to "practice for the summer." This is something she has been doing for the past month. Anytime just the three little ones were alone in the room, or the car, or anywhere she would proclaim "It's practice for the summer!" Often she would request the others leave so that she "Could practice for the summer." I hope she falls right into it, though I have a feeling she is going to be missing them terribly.

The day ended with a nice family supper, and then the annual trek to the local fireworks, where half the community joins in the oohing and aahing, and we see more people on the sidewalks then any other time.

I took a deep breath, but all I smelled was the OFF! we doused ourselves with, but I knew Summer had begun.

Take Me Out To the Stadium

2011-06-22T22:01:00.004-04:00

We had big plans tonight.

Our crookedonthetakelookingforalegacybeyondbuildingslums Town Supervisor decided that our small town needed a minor league stadium. So it was built in about three minutes (to make sure it was finished before an actual credible legal challenge was forthcoming), and it really is beautiful.

Too bad we didn't get to see the game, since it was rained out, but we had time while delayed to check out the whole place (not that we wouldn't have had time in the midst of a nine inning quasi amateur baseball experience). The stadium is actually 90% complete,but it's more of the advertised extra stuff (batting cages, playground)that's not ready, as opposed to the main parts of the baseball experience.

As one would expect in this area, there is a kosher stand, and it's just as expensive as the regular stand!

We have our rainchecks, and we will try again.

Soon.

That Hurts

2011-06-14T09:02:00.002-04:00

I was unaware of how many times a day or week I bang things into my ankle. Until now.

Apparently I bruised my ankle in some way a few weeks ago, and it feels like it's on the mend, until I bang something into again! Then I remember, quite painfully, that it is not healed.

I'm not talking about huge bumps, or dropping ten pound weights on it. In its current state of soreness, even a small item brushing against it, in the words of my children "kills!"

But I really did not realize how many times in the course of life things bash into my lower leg.

hmmm

Inside Out

2011-06-13T10:38:00.003-04:00

I go to a class on Sunday mornings. The main topic is faith, but at times based on questions, or what is being explained or expounded upon, or asked about, other topics come up. Yesterday, someone asked a question that touched on Tziniyus, and the response was literally one I have never heard before.

What amazes me, is that having gone through the Bais Yaakov system, and speeches post seminary and high school, which of course being that they were geared to women have to bring up tziniyus, I have never before heard anyone say what she said. The part that pleased me more than any other was that she is my girls' high school principal, and I'm jealous of the high school experience they are having, compared with the one I had. Maybe that's a function of being older and more willing to learn or grow, but it's probably a function of the boot camp miserable high school I went to.

Anyway, someone asked a question about a broad tzinyus issue (being influence by friends more than by the home)and she said the irony of Tzinyus today is that tzinyus is all about the pnimius(the inside) and yet ALL the focus today is on the chitzoniyus (outside). If people understood that tzniyus is about perfecting your inside; how to talk and act- the dressing would just become a natural by product of that. So we spend so much time talking about "inches, inches" that we lose the whole point of focusing on what should be going on inside. The whole thing is upside down or rather inside out.

So what did I get from this? I understand that different things are different challenges for different people. We all have that little voice in our head that tells us we really look better with a shorter skirt, or one more button open, but I think she's right. If it's really all about who you are, and who you are inside, and how you comport yourself in the world, then the challenge really isn't a challenge at all. She didn't say this, but I will extrapolate that if one is comfortable with oneself inside she need not push the envelope to prove herself better or different or even prove her identity at all based on her clothing. The rules wold be easy to follow, because they would be so simple and clear. WE are trying with all the speeches and whatnot to make our insides match our outsides. The outside has to match the inside.

Do all her students internalize this message? Not yet, but I think they'll get there, because it just makes sense in a non-inches kind of way.

The More Things Change....

2011-06-06T17:50:00.002-04:00

I was at the gas station with one of the bigger kids today, and when I got back in the car I handed her the change to put back in my purse. She looked at the $10 bill, and asked "Is this a new design???"

No, it was the design that's been around for about forty years...

We've Been Here Before

2011-06-06T11:36:00.004-04:00

San Franscisco has managed to get a question on the ballot seeking to ban male circumcision for males under the age of 18, with no religious exemption. The penalty is up $1,000 fine or up to one year in jail.

We've discussed this here at chez blogberg, and have come to a few conclusions. Firstly, for religious Jews those penalties pale in comparison with the persecutions of the past for similar bans. That does not make this attack on an essential commandment for Jews any less worrisome, but we know that we can prevail.

However, what of the non-religious, but somewhat affiliated Jew? Will he go that extra mile (literally in some cases, over the border to a different city) to get his child circumcised and enter the covenant, or will he choose to step back and have his progeny not carry this most basic sign of Jewishness?

Part of the argument (the actual wording by the group who put it up is the "San Francisco Male Genital Mutilation" bill-though the city attorney changed to"Male Circumcision" on the ballot), is that parents are guardians, and do not have the right to "mutilate" a child.

Mutilation is a tough word, it brings out all sorts of reactions and is in and of itself inflammatory, but I'm left with the question of what does that mean for our children. My son was born with Ptosis, his left eye droops badly. We have him scheduled for surgery in a few months. Maybe we should wait until he is 18, and he can decide whether or not he wants this done. The analogy is not exactly the same, but the idea is similar, in that we will have him undergo surgery to correct a problem, one that may be mostly cosmetic,and might still lead to other issues ( not major) in its wake. Are we mutilating him? If a baby needs a graft from one part of his body to another, is it mutilation to take skin from his buttocks, or leg or arm, to replace a need elsewhere? You are taking skin? is that mutilation?

I read 95% of circumcision in this country is not performed on Jews, thus I'm not sure that this is a fight that only Jews will need to take up. Rabbi Adlerstein from Los Angeles has a good piece from Cross-Currents blog on this topic. I do wonder, if you take the religious aspect out of it, what is the actual impetus for this ban.

Maybe there isn't.

Jaded

2011-05-30T20:14:00.002-04:00

As is our tradition, more out of necessity than actual tradition, MBB and I took the opportunity that a holiday weekday affords, and did a little shopping. As some of you may recall we had an interesting situation two years ago in Home Goods, when we discovered that the town with teh largest concentration of retail establishments has an ordinance that states that stores may not open before 1 PM on Memorial Day.

Yesterday (Sunday) we went to a place to look at new chairs for the kitchen, as we felt there were signs indicating the time was right to replace the folding chairs in the dinette(the signs said "SALE!"). We chose a chair, but I was nervous to get it without first bringing it home so we paid for the chair, and took the floor sample telling the proprietor that we would return it by five (when he closed). Apparently we forgot about our girls' high school dinner (really a "Luncher" as it began at 2 pm...best dinner ever. It started at 2, it was over at 3:30), and then subsequently a concurrent Bar Mitzvah I was attending, and another Dinner that MBB was going to. 5 o'clock was not happening. So I called the guy.

"I don't think I'm going to make it today, can I bring it tomorrow?"

"Sure no problem. We'll be here at 10."

"Oh, I thought you'd be open at 1, because of the ordinance."

"We'll be here at ten, you can come at 11. The cops come around every other year or so."

So we went at 11 this morning and we asked about it, and he explained that if a cop comes by he turns off the lights and the "open" sign, but if people come in he doesn't turn them away.

Later we went to another place, and it proclaimed on the door "Open for browsing 10am-1pm. Open for business 1pm-6pm."

We discussed it in the car on the way home, and at first we said how silly the ordinance was, but then we thought about it, and realized that as a society we have become so focused on our shopping needs, that nothing is ever closed and no holidays are sacred. What is Memorial day, and why is it that as Americans we can't take these three hours not to shop? I understand why the shopkeepers open, because if they don't, people will just head to the next town, in the next state, and that will be that. Really, our main holidays SHOULD be Memorial Day and Veterans day, and they should be honored by more than just a BBQ and retail therapy. I understand we are part of the problem, if people wouldn't shop, stores would not be open, and I know that it's a great day, with the kids in school for part of it, to get an errand done. I was just taken aback by our initial reaction to how silly it seemed to have stores open late.

It's not silly. It's not nearly enough.

OUCH

2011-05-19T10:44:00.005-04:00

My dear darling adorable precocious relentless four year old fell off a counter height stool yesterday (getting a snack of course), and as soon as I saw her lying there, I knew we needed an Orthopedist.

Ten year old had just recovered from a broken finger (that happened in school, at a balloon dance, who knew a hyper extended pinky could break?!?), so I had an orthopedist in mind. I had liked them, the office was quick, and here it was 3:30 in the afternoon. The night before had been spent in the urgent care center when Ten year old fell off her bike, and her ankle swelled up. (It's a sprain, immobilized and she's on crutches for a few days)Now it wasn't after hours at night, and it wasn't Shabbos ( been there,done that), and I was feeling pretty good about getting in, x-rayed and casted in the comfort of the doctor's office, I could see being done in an hour.

HA!

I called the group I had just been to a few weeks earlier, and first I was put on hold for six minutes. Then the x-ray tech picked up and informed me that I should go to the emergency room, because if it was a displaced fracture, they weren't equipped to do that in the office ( I have no idea what that means the place is massive and has tons of staff). Perhaps it was my fault that she thought it was a displaced fracture, since I mentioned that her arm looked funny right away. She asked me if she was "carrying on" a lot, and I asked if that's why she couldn't come to the office. I also asked why they couldn't x-ray it, and THEN if it was displaced send me to the ER. She said "no, we don't do that" after conferring with a doctor. So I mentioned that everyone always says, be careful who your Orthopedist is, and I trust your group and your telling me to just roll the dice in the ER? She had no answer for that, I saw I was getting nowhere, and I hung up.

Next guy was someone I've been to as well, a little further away, but his x-ray tech was leaving and I wouldn't get there in time. "Go to the ER, and then follow up with us." Umm, no. I even asked if I could go to the x-ray place and then bring the films in and let him cast it, but I was told no, because this doctor likes to x-ray again after the cast is on.

Next recommendation, I was told "sorry we have no appointments until tomorrow." So I now for the future, to use this group, one needs to SCHEDULE accidental bone fractures in order to be seen by the doctor.

I never learn. I should have called my Pediatrician right away, and I eventually did, and the receptionist gave me the name of a group. I figured before I run to the ER, I'll try one more time.

The answering service picked up, and asked a bunch of questions, including "what is your insurance." The doctor called me back within 5 minutes. He suggested I go to teh emergency room and HE WOULD MEET ME THERE after x-ray. Finally. shwew.

We went to the ER (it took an hour to be triaged, then another hour until we were done with x-rays-a really bad x-ray tech-he was not gentle with her little arm). Unfortunately, at that point the doctor could not get there for another hour and a half. She was in a pretty good mood, not moving her very obviously (on the x-ray) fractured humerus, eating candy from the vending machine, coloring and listening to stories.

The doctor showed up, casted her up, and was just really, really nice. He mentioned that he said to meet at the ER because he knew he was an out of network doctor for me. I wish he would have told me that because I'm still in the deductible portion of my plan and out of network applies to it, and I could have just gone to his office. Either way, his heart was in the right place. I told him what had happened with the other groups, and he said he tells his associates "Say yes first, especially with kids."

So what exactly is the point of all these other orthopedists if they won't see emergencies? So they can bill insurance for follow up x-rays and "surgery" for reapplying a splint? These doctors should be ashamed of themselves. The upside is I found a new group-that I hope not to need!

The cutie pie is doing well, she wanted to go to playgroup this morning, and the doctor had said if she wants to, then let her go. It's so hard to see your kids in pain. The hardest part was the x-ray, she was so sad I thought my heart would break in half. I think that's part of the problem in the medical field. People need to detach, so sometimes they detach too much and the patient gets hurt. Or it wasn't a global thing and the guy was just a jerk.

Seems to be a theme.

Dig In

2011-05-15T15:26:00.002-04:00

I just set out a Smorgasbord. It spans forty feet, and is colorful, smells delightful, and is very pleasing to the eye. There are different areas with different offerings, all set up in a slightly different configuration. There are different heights, and different arrays, but it all comes together nicely.

I'm expecting a crowd, but hoping they don't come. With their big eyes, and big mouths, just crowding around like they own the place.

I wonder if they watched me as I hauled and carried and got everything in place outside. Maybe they will let it sit for just a short while so that the beauty will not be short lived.

Maybe the bigger elements that have been showing up, will scare away the smaller more consistent eaters. One can only hope.

With their stand up ears and long noses, they prance over and just have their fill.

Stupid deer. Maybe I need a shotgun.

Beep Beep

2011-05-12T13:19:00.000-04:00

I have a love-like relationship with my car. Car is not really accurate. Flat out, I drive a truck. Not that there aren't a lot of other people driving these types of trucks, but being a small person, I love being so high up and I revel in my truckitude. I never thought there would be a time that I loved my truck, but I do. Most times.

We got the truck last year when the boy was born, because it could accommodate the whole family on those occasions when we are all traveling together. Many families have this issue, and don't necessarily get a truck- when there are male offspring sprinkled in they tend to not be around. Especially once they hit high school then they seem to always be in school. Girls are around (it's great) and available when everyone is home. With that in mind the options were: My Tahoe, a 12 or 15 passenger van, or a Suburban. Now a Suburban is basically a Tahoe, with 20 extra inches of cargo room. Actually it's 14 extra inches, because the Tahoe has a whopping six inches of trunk space. Six. Inches. I drive an Elephant, I did not want to drive a Mammoth.

So I got the Tahoe (we got a turtle for those times when we have lots of luggage and go altogether-as opposed to MBB meeting us and driving from work), and there is something that I've learned from it.

Again,I really like the vehicle. It drives well, it drives easily, I have a great back up camera in the rear-view mirror (super cool), the front seats are comfy, and I feel nice and high.

On days I go to Costco, I like it less. And it teaches me, that sometimes something worth having takes effort. I need to finagle the car seats/booster and stroller, and then figure out which seats to put down, and how to pack it most efficiently with the small space I've added by moving things that will need to be moved back. So it takes time and a little forethought (just getting the car cleaned out of "stuff" before I go), and a bit of effort, and I think how it's worth it, because I have a car that fits all of us.

When I think of people who don't do things because it takes a little extra doing, I'm sad for them.

They say anything you put effort into will last, and you will enjoy more. There are so many examples of this, but when I get anxious that maybe I should have gotten the car with more trunk space, I just think:

What would that have taught me?

It Was A Matter of Time

2011-05-09T16:20:00.003-04:00

The trend in Orthodox publications and institutions to ensure that no photos of women or young girls are published has exploded over the past few years. More and more institutions and publications are bowing to this trend, and it has gotten out of hand.

Aside from the ridiculous need to blur the faces of young female children, one magazine recently went so far as to blur a section of a crowd shot from the protests in Egypt, an aerial picture that was (by definition) taken from well ABOVE and from quite a distance, where no faces or bodies were discernible in any meaningful way.

Apparently, when the Secretary of State has the nerve to be a female, she must be edited out of history: (courtesy of Yahoo News, surely picked up by other publications-wow! what a kiddush has...nah, I can't even finish it, though I'm sure SOMEONE will say it- if you google "hillary edited out" -{today 5/9} you will get almost 650,000 results in under ONE SECOND)

BEFORE:

AFTER:

So while the rest of the world debates whether Hilary was aghast versus stifling a cough, the Orthodox world just has to wonder why all those people were standing if there was an open seat.

LAst night I attended the the annual dinner from my kids school. It was a lovely event, but not only were the no girls over the age of 8 shown in the video, but why did they bother to honor couples if they had no intention of doing anything at all to honor the female half of the couple? Why videotape your honorees if all you will show is a man and his kids, and pretend you are honoring his wife?

But worst of all, do not honor four teachers for 25 years of service by quickly rattling off their names, and tacking their names in a LIST at the end of a video presentation as the lights go up. If you'd like to honor them? Have a separate presentation where you dim the lights, show their names -ONE AT A TIME-as the emcee announces each one and speaks about them for 30 seconds as someone on the Women's side PROMINENTLY presents them with their plaque.

Stop featuring women in magazines if you can't show us who they are. Stop honoring couples, and then ignoring the women or only showing photos of their husbands, and stop relegating young female children to a non existent role in advertisements, and children's publications (even worse is the ad magazines to lazy to blur the face, and just stick a post it note over a three year old's face).

Why do we wonder why boys in shidduchim (and their mothers-think: Stockholm Syndrome) think they are so much better than the girls they are meant to date. We've created a society were women are treated so poorly, and yet expected to do so much.

I once learned that the face need not be covered, because that is where the soul shines forth, what makes pictures different, and how long until we have to start wearing burkas?

I am so disgusted.

Was He Being Sardonic?

2011-05-08T12:00:00.002-04:00

I just got an email from my kids' school listing the schedule for tonight's Dinner. I got a good laugh, but I'm not sure if it was the intended reaction:

Dinner Schedule:
6:00 Reception, (6:45 impromptu Mincha), 7:00 Dinner, Dessert and Birchas Hamazon by 9:00, followed by Maariv.

So Much to Say

2011-05-06T11:45:00.002-04:00

I haven't blogged in awhile,, and while I do have some good blogs in my head, I just haven't been able to get them up in a meaningful way. I need to decide if any blog is worth posting, or if I should have some sort of standard.

Then there are the issues that come up with people in your life, and would make a good blog topic to discuss as to why you feel certain ways about certain things, but the people in your life are, well, in your life, and read your blog, and you don't want them to think this is your shot across the bow. So essentially to be able to blog effectively, I need to a) hang out with other people or b)get the people in my life to stop reading my blog. Both options are lousy, because I like the people in my life, which is probably why I want them to read the blog in the first place.

Well, it's the first post in a month, it'll have to do for now.

If The Answers Were Easy.....

2011-04-04T09:17:00.007-04:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the way we parent today. Thinking, and talking it over. Specifically I think about the way we parent in comparison with the way we were parented. More specifically, I wonder about the things we worry about, and why our parents did not need to worry about them. Even more specifically I'm talking about adherence to Torah and Mitzvos.

Parents today, very often, in the words of my sister "parent from fear." I think she may have heard that at a speech one day, but it really struck a nerve with me. Why do we act in a way that makes them feel that they are "bad," and will always choose the worst choice when faced with a situation where they need to decide how to proceed. Not only that, but if they choose wrong once, they have condemned themselves to a life of Slurpees at two am in the parking lot at 7-11 (in this town anyway).

Are the challenges today different from those of our parents? Yes. Does the internet pose an allure that once that door is opened can be hard to close? Yes. But some of these challenges are of our own making. I am not saying that in order to stem the tide of kids throwing off the "ways of their fathers" one should steep them in American culture. But maybe the problem is that NOTHING is ok, and once a kid dips his toe in forbidden waters, he feels socially and familialy like he is completely lost.

Maybe the problem is there is so much focus on these outer trappings of frumkeit, and what I have called in the past "public displays of frumkeit," wherein you MUST go to the big asifa, or MUST join the latest ban, and at home the kids see no love in the Avodah. It would stand to reason that one who shies away from non Jewish culture is more likely to be closer to Hashem, but can there be levels of closeness as opposed to absolutes? Does distracting one's self with non-Jewish pursuits (entertainment) automatically mean a rejection of Torah? No, it doesn't, but so many parents feel that it may. The crazy part is, many of these parents did these things when they were young. Does that mean that it's the same today? Not at all, but it also doesn't mean your kid is lost. Is it more of a bucking of societal norms if a kid is (for lack of a better word) less "yeshivish?" I am not sure. The outer trappings of society seem to indicate more "yeshivishness," but I don't know that we are really living that way. There are very erlich people out there, but there are also many who are not.

I wish I had answers, because I have so many questions. We do, as a generation, parent from fear, coupled with many parents obsessed with their kids being happy. A little off if this is the guiding prnciple of parenthood, as a friend of mine once put it: "we don't need to make our kids happy, we have to give them the tools to make themselves happy." We need to teach them to adapt, to sway with the ups and downs of life. But this need to "make kids happy"- what if that was spilling over to religious observance, what if any small thing that a kid found uncomfortable or hard, parents rushed to try to find a way around. Or even sympathized to a point at which the mesorah became diminished in the eyes of the child?

I think that because of this we've become a society of shelterers. And we have decided, if you read the Jewish publications, that not only should we shelter from those things we feel will have a negative impact on our religious life, but also things that will shatter the Pollyanna version of life on this earth. G-d created the hardship as well as the good, pretending it doesn't exist does not give our children the tools to deal with it when confronted with it in real life.

Maybe too many parents are so afraid that they hide who they were or things they did. If kids think they were this way always, then they see no growth, and no potential for themselves if they are interested by these things. Being honest with them about things that have changed, and things that are out there is probably fraught with less peril then trying to protect them from knowing about anything. If we are going to live in a non-Jewish society, and work and avail ourselves of the consumer opportunities and technological advances that this entails, then we are unlikely going to be able to protect them from knowing or wanting to know more about the secular world and its amusements.

Do we live in a time where the culture is dangerous and pervasive, catering to the most negative and base of human traits and frailties? Absolutely. Must we teach our kids the right path, and what needs to be rejected and what we must embrace? Definitely. I just don't think that assuming they will run from our beautiful Mesorah, if we show them how beautiful it is, and how much we love it, and love them, should be the overwhelming principle of parenting.

That Won't Get You Clean

2011-03-28T19:09:00.002-04:00

Let just start off with a warning: the following contains subject matter that may be somewhat off-putting to those with more delicate sensibilities..

It's actual inevitable (well, not really, I am just making it so)that a blogger with children will eventually get around to blogging about...poop.

Tonight I put my sweet little man (almost ten months old) into his little tub. He cried for a moment, and then put himself into a position wherein his chin was hanging almost over the edge, and he looked relaxed. Very relaxed. So relaxed that as I got the soap in my hand to wash him, I saw why he looked so content. Let's just say I needed to get him out of there quickly, the floating pieces not something I'd want him to bathe in. I yanked him out, rinsed him off in the sink, and gave up on the bath (no I did not wash his hair, those "long flowing locks" would have to wait to be washed). He thought this all the height of hysteria and smiled and giggled throughout. After everything was bleached and cleaned (the tub, etc, not the baby), I was reminded of another bath time mishap with another child.

She must have been about two years old. She got in the tub, and after about two minutes, I noticed an object floating along with the rubber duckies. Out she came, the tub was drained and cleaned with Comet, rinsed, and I let the water in again. I may have even sat her on the toilet (not that she was trained, but she needed to be somewhere "safe").

New water, in she went, two minutes passed, and another object floating around. Out she came, drainage, Comet, rinse. I felt she needed to be washed, so I let the water in again. She stood there watching as the water filled up. I turned off the tub, and as I was about to lift her in, she urinated on the floor.

I laughed uncontrollably. She couldn't do THAT in the tub???????

Uncle Harvey....

2011-03-23T22:59:00.002-04:00

Dear World,

There is a phrase that seems to be making a comeback that grates on my nerves so badly that I think if I hear it again I will possibly crack my teeth or potentially even break my jaw from clenching them so hard. It puts me so on edge, and tonight I figured out why.

I was speaking to my daughter and she said something that was not the offending phrase, but the words were so eerily similar to that maxim of misery, that I finally understood why I hate it so much.

What is this calamitous catchphrase?

"It's All Good."

I loathe this locution. Firstly, it is mostly untrue. But what I learned tonight is that it is used to avoid having to judge anything. Really though, for society to work and to be able to maintain a civil and moral way of life people need to judge. They need not necessarily condemn other people to the outer edges of life, they need not discard other people, but if we don't judge- and by that I mean we do not weigh the actions of others against a set of behaviors we consider appropriate-if everything is "good" and there are no value judgments, well then there are problems.

Is man good or evil? Neither, he is swayed by both, but man is very swayed by the opinion of others, and if things are deemed unacceptable, then those negative behaviors are more likely to be stopped, or at least not become the norm. Is this a double edged sword in which goodness can also be judged, and thereby attacked? Absolutely. Yet, a world of "It's all good," is a world of moral relativity, it's a world where whims of man take on more weight then they should.

There are those who may argue they say this when referring to frustrating moments in their lives, moments when they need to remind themselves that there is a Creator who is looking out for us, even if we do not always see the goodness in His ways, we know that they are good. Absolutely, I believe that, but I honestly do NOT believe that this expression is trying to convey this lofty idea.

So please, please, please-stop using this.

My dentist is rooting against me on this one.

Soda Wars

2011-03-21T20:41:00.002-04:00

As an avid consumer of soft drinks, I've always taken an interest in the business side of soda. Therefore, it was with a good deal of interest that I reviewed Beverage-Digest's Top 10 CSD (carbonated soft drinks) list for 2010 when it was released last week.

Here are the top 10, based upon unit sales volumes:
(1) Coke
(2) Diet Coke
(3) Pepsi Cola
(4) Mountain Dew
(5) Dr. Pepper
(6) Sprite
(7) Diet Pepsi
(8) Diet Mountain Dew
(9) Diet Dr. Pepper
(10)Fanta

A few interesting points:
* Diet Coke overtook (regular) Pepsi Cola as the #2 brand for the first time.
* Both Diet Mountain Dew and Diet Dr. Pepper increased by more than 5% over 2009's levels, which is considered a very large increase for a mature brand. Incidentally, both of these drinks contain caffeine.
* Overall, Diet drinks made up over 30% of total carbonated soft drink sales, which is a new high.
* The top 10 brands combined for a 65% share of the overall market.
* In terms of overall company rankings, Coca Cola remained #1, with a 42% market share. PepsiCo was second, with a 29.3% share.
* Energy drink sales continue to grow at a substantially higher rate than the rest of the industry's volumes. Red Bull and Rockstar grew total volumes by 13% and 19%, respectively.
* The overall U.S. carbonated soft drink business declined 0.5%. This category last grew in 2004, and overall sales are back to where they were in 1996. Obviously, given the country's population increase over the past decade and a half, per capita consumption of carbonated soft drinks is lower than it has been in a long time.

Putting some of this information together, I conclude (perhaps erroneously, but then again, I'm not being paid for my analysis) that in general, the soft drink-consuming public is moving away from sugar, and towards caffeine.

It will be interesting to see whether or not this trend towards diet drinks intensifies if certain municipalities (like New York City) implement a tax on sugary soft drinks.

Hopefully, we'll never find out.

In the meantime, I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one who is consuming caffeine.

Then again, I might have single-handedly pushed Diet Coke past Pepsi-Cola into the #2 spot.

That should be good for a free soda or two, shouldn't it?

A Purim Tale: Part I

2011-03-14T22:45:00.002-04:00

As the holiday of Purim approaches, IcebergCarwash is pleased to bring you a somewhat modernized version of the Purim story, presented in seven installments, the first of which is presented in this post, with subsequent installments presented consecutively below:

And it was in the days of Ahasueres, a mighty king, whose dominion covered nearly all of the inhabited world, and who possessed an investment portfolio to match. After one particularly profitable year, during which the king’s portfolio handily beat all of its benchmarks, he made a lavish holiday party for all of his portfolio managers, traders, analysts, and the entire back office staff. He invited representatives of the regulatory agencies as well, just to stay in their good graces. For a period of 180 days, spanning the entire football season, and the majority of the baseball, basketball and hockey seasons, the king entertained party goers with his unparalleled collection of season tickets. The VIPs were granted access to the king’s luxury suites at these events. Needless to say, the alcohol flowed ceaselessly for the entirety of the 180 day party. Sure, it was highway robbery to charge $10 for a cup of watered down stadium swill, but with the king picking up the tab, who really cared? Attendees drank to their heart’s content, and the king’s popularity ratings hit an all-time high.

Unfortunately, the king’s wife, Queen Vashti, was not impressed by his investment returns. For one thing, the king had merely served as an investor. The actual decision-making was made by his vast army of money managers. The king had not made a single buy or sell decision all year. If anything, Queen Vashti had been much more directly involved than her husband in choosing the money managers. Why, the king had not even made an overall asset allocation decision for the portfolio! Queen Vashti doubted that he even knew how to use the asset allocation software that one of his people had developed.

Flush with the success of his portfolio, the king became a sought-after “expert” on investment matters. He was a frequent guest on financial TV and radio shows. As the 180-day party was winding down, he decided to host an investor conference for finance professionals located in the capital city of Shushan. The king himself would serve as the keynote speaker at this conference, dispensing his sage advice.

The investor conference was well-attended, probably more for the free food, wine and giveaways than for the pearls of wisdom the attendees would glean from the various speakers. As the king’s keynote address approached, he decided to put together a panel discussion for the Q&A session which would follow his speech. Naturally, he asked Queen Vashti to chair the panel. She was a knowledgeable panelist, and her inclusion in the proceedings would allow the king to show off his wife’s admirable financial acumen.

When she learned of the king’s request, Queen Vashti was incensed. “A panelist, is that all I’m good for?” she fumed. “He won’t even allow me to give a presentation? When I met him, his "investment research" involved hanging out at the racetrack, looking for tips, and now he's an expert?” Queen Vashti flatly refused the king’s request, going so far as to sign up as an attendee at a small-cap biotechnology stock conference, held at a small, out-of-the-way facility. To ensure that she would be unavailable for the king’s conference, she arrived at her conference a day early, which allowed her to participate in the pre-conference festivities, such as the “best ball” golf tournament. Her team finished fourth, which was considered a decent showing.

Upon hearing that Queen Vashti would not be attending his conference, much less chairing a panel discussion, the king became enraged (although he did seem mildly impressed by her team’s fourth-place finish in the “best ball” tournament). He gathered his seven closest financial advisors, and asked them what to do.

Now, most of these advisors were “low beta” types, who hated to take risks, financial or political. These guys didn’t look for alpha, they hid from it. Not surprisingly, they didn’t really have any solid suggestions for the king. One manager, though, a fellow by the name of Memukan, was more than happy to chime in. Memukan had a real bone to pick with the Queen. The Queen was no saint, and Memukan knew it. As the key decision-maker for the king when it came to choosing specific money managers to invest the king’s money, she had been running a pay-for-play scam for years. Even that particular process was not even-handed. Despite the fact that his firm had paid a substantial amount of graft to the Queen, they had never been entrusted with more than a token amount of the king’s assets. Memukan was determined to receive a substantially larger allocation for his fund, and the dramatically increased fees and prestige that would result, and now he had his chance.

“Your Highness should immediately remove Queen Vashti from her position on the king’s Investment Committee,” stated Memukan. “In fact, I recommend that she lose her license entirely, and be permanently barred from the investment industry in each of the 127 countries over which Your Highness so splendidly rules.”

Memukan’s words resonated with the fuming king. Who did Vashti think she was, anyway? He was the king, so it was his portfolio they were managing, not hers. And, if he wanted to put together a conference, it was her duty to not only attend, but to also participate in the manner which he requested. Besides, despite her obvious talents as a portfolio manager, Vashti had proven completely incapable of managing tail risk. Memukan’s recommendation was invoked, and the Queen was thusly banished forever. For good measure, the king implemented a decree, which stated that from that day forward, in matters pertaining to the investment of household funds, men would have the final say over their wives, in the event of a dispute.

A Purim Tale: Part II

2011-03-14T22:44:00.001-04:00

The Story So Far: King Ahasueres dismisses the insubordinate Queen Vashti from her post as the head of his Investment Committee, and bans her for life from the securities industry.

After a while, the king’s investment fortunes began to change for the worse. Amid general market weakness, his portfolio sagged, and underperformed even the anemic general market benchmarks. He and his army of financial advisors and portfolio managers had seemingly lost their touch. One day, while preparing to ring the opening bell at the Shushan Stock Exchange, in commemoration of one event or the other, the king’s thoughts turned to his deposed queen. He remembered Vashti and the positive influence she had on his portfolio, and missed her well thought-out asset allocation decisions, and her ability to gain a quick, thorough understanding of even the most exotic securities. Unfortunately, there would be no bringing her back now. Vashti was damaged goods, and even if he could get her reinstated by the authorities, her return would bring unwanted additional scrutiny to any firm even loosely associated with his portfolio. It was also clear to the king that there was no one within his shop who was prepared to take over that position. He would have no choice but to look outside to find someone.

The king set up a meeting with his outside counsel, at their offices. The king sat at the head of a massive table in a conference room on the 32nd floor of an office building in downtown Shushan, as several partners (billing an average of $825/hour) tossed recommendations his way. Finally, an associate (billing a relatively modest $450/hour) came up with a really good idea. “Your majesty should gather together portfolio managers from all over the land, and sequester them in a small, WiFi-equipped office building on the royal campus. These money managers should be given everything they need to do their jobs. Each portfolio manager will receive a laptop preloaded with the trading software of his/her choice, a subscription to whichever daily/weekly/monthly financial publication he/she desires, a Bloomberg terminal (with two screens!), and a personal “Excel jockey” to do his/her spreadsheet work. Each manager will be given a $10 million model portfolio, and will invest/trade that portfolio over a period of six months. After six months, each portfolio will be reviewed, to see how the portfolio managers fared. In addition, each portfolio manager will spend the entirety of a single trading day with the king, so that he/she can be witnessed in a “live” setting. After that, the portfolio manager will be given 60 minutes to describe his/her investment style to the king, and to discuss how he/she would invest the king’s portfolio.”

This idea pleased the king greatly, and he decided to proceed accordingly.

Feeling quite full of himself, the young associate added, “Of course, I’d also recommend that Your Majesty sign a nondisclosure/non-compete agreement with each portfolio manager. The last thing we need is for Your Highness to run into any intellectual property issues down the road.”

At this point, the king frowned deeply, whereupon the uppity associate was promptly removed from the conference room (and the firm’s fast track) and sentenced to 10 years of proofreading regulatory filings.

A Purim Tale: Part III

2011-03-14T22:43:00.001-04:00

The Story So Far: Acting on the advice of his outside counsel, King Ahasueres arranges an investment contest to determine the successor of Queen Vashti as head of his Investment Committee.

There was a sage, veteran portfolio manager, whose name was Mortimer (“Morty”) Kai, who had been through countless bull and bear markets, had seen numerous asset bubbles inflate and then collapse, who had witnessed the destructive effects of the unencumbered use of leverage. He had a particularly promising trainee by the name of Hadassah (known to her Facebook friends as “Esther”), to whom he was giving over as much as he could of his vast investment knowledge.

Esther had been making something of a name for herself in certain investment circles, having proved adept at deriving profits from the currency markets by using options to construct synthetic baskets of otherwise illiquid currencies.

Still, she was quite new to the managed money game, so it was something of a surprise to her – and to her mentor Morty Kai – when she was asked to join the king’s portfolio manager contest. At first, she protested, fearful that she would only end up making a fool of herself. However, the king’s people made it clear that this was not really an optional invitation. “Besides,” they said almost dismissively, “At least you’ll provide some liquidity.” Her ears still stinging with this most heinous insult, Esther was practically dragged to the designated office building.

Morty Kai was gravely concerned for his protégé’s well-being. He was well aware of the rules of the king’s portfolio contest, and he feared that the short-term nature of the six-month performance assessment period would cause Esther to take undue risks. Sure, Morty Kai could day trade with the best of them, if needed. How could he forget the profits he had made in Consolidated Silk within a couple of frantic hours so many years ago? Still, his experience had taught him that the really big money was made from positions that sometimes took years, not weeks or months, to establish. A six-month contest was nothing more than a spin of the roulette wheel.

Another problem was presented by the king’s insistence that the money managers all describe their investment style, allowing him to lump a bunch of them into one category or the other, such as “growth” “value,” “growth at the right price (GARP),” “momentum,” “contrarian,” and so on. Morty Kai had instructed Esther to avoid this trap, and to resist allowing anyone to boil her investment style down to a single word or phrase. Ever loyal to Morty Kai, Esther in fact resisted these canned descriptions of her investment style, and refused to tell anyone about the specifics of her investment approach, no matter how often they asked.

As she put her model portfolio into place, Esther went about things in a curiously low-key manner. She hardly ever used her Bloomberg terminal, nor the sophisticated charting software on her laptop. She didn’t bother watching the financial news or reading the various financial periodicals, dismissing it as so much “noise.” In fact, she even put together her own spreadsheets. Unlike the other participants in the contest, she did not update the value of her portfolio on a continuous basis, or even daily. From the standpoint of an outside observer, it almost appeared as though she had no interest whatsoever in winning the contest.

Amazingly, as time went on, Esther’s hands-off portfolio management style worked like a charm. As the contest neared its end, her portfolio was ranked above the 95th percentile. In her investment interview with the king, she carried the day with her simple, down-to-earth explanation of her investment philosophy. This proved to be a great relief to the king, who had spent months meeting with a bunch of professional investors who threw enough charts at him to choke a McKinsey consultant. Just the other day, he had half jokingly concluded that the next money manager who showed him a chart overlaying the 50-and 200-day moving average of three currencies, two commodities and four major stock indices on a single chart would promptly be escorted to the royal gallows.

King Ahasueres found himself completely taken by both Esther and her investment style. He chose her as his new Queen and Chief Investment Officer, and arranged a celebrity pro-am golf tournament in her honor, drawing A-listers from every corner of the kingdom.

With Esther now settled into her new position, Morty Kai decided that he needed to get an office near the king’s palace, where he could better monitor Esther’s progress. He rented a small office a couple of blocks away, swallowing hard as he signed a one-year lease at $60/square foot (and that didn’t include utilities!).

One day, shortly after the market closed, as he was getting a coffee from the Starbucks located about a block from the royal palace, Morty Kai overheard two somewhat obscure portfolio managers he knew, XM and Sirius, discussing some inside information they had received. Apparently, one of the region’s largest wine manufacturers was about to report absolutely disastrous earnings, owing to disappointing sales volumes and significant cost overruns at their largest plant. They would also reveal that their pension plan was woefully underfunded, and that they were experiencing difficulty in refinancing their substantial debt load. Without question, this stock would absolutely tank.

Not content with simply shorting the stock in question, and collecting an easy-if-illicit profit, XM and Sirius were going for the really big score. Why short the stock at its current level, if they could generate rumors to drive the stock higher, then short it at those levels, and make an even larger profit when the inevitable crash came? Their plan was rather simple. XM would call up a college fraternity buddy of his, who happened to produce the “Market Rumors” segment on the Empire’s most widely-watched financial news network. During the early afternoon of every trading day, this guy would go on the air, and discuss the latest hot rumor in the marketplace. Without fail, these rumors, bullish or bearish, moved markets up or down, respectively. In addition, Sirius had once worked as a junior analyst at the same firm as a guy who was now one of the king’s biggest portfolio managers. This guy was a real sucker for tips, and would undoubtedly bite on this rumor. With a large portion of the king’s portfolio behind him, Sirius’s former coworker would certainly push the stock higher. Sure, the king would lose millions in the process, but who cared? He had more money than he knew what to do with anyway.

Hearing this plot, Morty Kai knew immediately what he must do. Alert the king, to prevent him from potentially massive losses, and report the two rogue portfolio managers to the authorities. Certainly, Morty Kai could have simply waited a while, and even taken advantage of this inside information. In fact, he was already bearish on the stock of this particular wine manufacturer, based upon his own independent research. However, his actions had always been governed by what was right, not necessarily what was most profitable, and he wasn’t about to change his approach now.

Morty Kai texted Esther about the plot, and she immediately reported it to the king’s compliance department, giving Morty Kai credit for having given her the heads-up. She let the compliance folks report it to the authorities, knowing that the king would be pleased with the positive exposure it would give his administration. He’d now be able to refer to his efforts to clean up the markets. The compliance department investigated the matter, and alerted the regulatory authorities, who banned XM and Sirius from the securities industry for life. The king asked his compliance manager to record the fact that Morty Kai had served as a whistleblower in this case, and that he should eventually be rewarded.

A Purim Tale: Part IV

2011-03-14T22:42:00.003-04:00

The Story So Far: We are introduced to veteran fund manager Morty Kai, and his protege Esther, who reluctantly joins the king's investment contest. Despite competing with many money managers with much more developed resumes and reputations, Esther wins the contest, and becomes the new head of the king's Investment Committee. Morty Kai foils an insider trading scandal before it can get off the ground, saving the king a substantial amount of money in the process.

As most major markets continued to trade aimlessly in those months, with trading volumes still well below their long-term averages, a money manager by the name of Haman started to grab some headlines. No one seemed to know how he was doing it, but Haman had delivered consistently high returns for his investors, with performance variability that would make a municipal bond fund manager proud. In a very uncertain market environment, Haman’s various hedge funds were the closest thing you could get to a sure thing. Investors practically tripped over each other in their zeal to invest with Haman, who could raise nearly $5 billion within days of announcing a new fund. Haman also had a flair for marketing, appearing on all of the financial news shows in his trademark three-cornered hat. Flamboyant and successful, Haman soon became a household name, a true investing “rock star.”

Haman became so big that other money managers attempted to imitate him. Countless hedge funds were opened, attempting to mimic Haman’s investing “style” (although no one seemed capable of accurately and completely describing that style). CEOs of asset management firms referred to their companies as “Haman shops,” and their style of investing as “Hamanesque.” It was all getting a bit ridiculous, but Haman was reveling in it.

Of course, not everyone was willing to bow to Haman, and to worship at his altar. Morty Kai, who had seen plenty of hot fund managers suddenly turn cold, then practically disappear from sight, did not buy into the Haman hype. In fact, these two men had something of a shared history. Many years earlier, when they were young portfolio managers, Morty Kai and Haman found themselves on the opposite ends of a major trade. Haman had shorted water futures in a certain municipality, believing that a recent price rise had left the commodity overbought. Morty Kai, on the other hand, sensing that the market was still in the very early stages of what would prove to be a significant, demand-driven price rise, was on the long side of the market. For weeks, the battle raged, as each side continued to add to its position as the market for water futures struggled for direction. Finally, the market broke through its upside resistance, and didn’t pause to catch its breath until it had appreciated another 40%. Morty Kai made an enormous profit, while Haman was caught in a classic short squeeze, decimating his portfolio. The ensuing margin calls made Haman close out his fund, and practically hide from his enraged investors, who, in retrospect, took the position that he had been altogether too reckless with their money. This ushered in the “lean years” for Haman, who was forced to toil in relative obscurity as a junior chemicals industry analyst for a third-tier investment firm. Having been a first-hand witness to Haman’s folly, Morty Kai would forever view Haman as an impulsive and reckless - albeit sometimes lucky - money manager.

Technically, Haman should not have been concerned about Morty Kai’s opinion at this stage of his career, but the lack of respect that Morty Kai displayed towards him just gnawed at him, like when your favorite team loses a close game due to a bad officiating decision. He just couldn’t let it go. Haman was sickened by Morty Kai’s folksy investment style, and all of his blather about things like P/E ratios, operating cash flow, expanding versus contracting margins, balance sheet ratios, blah, blah, blah. Did he really still believe all of that old-fashioned stuff? Hadn’t he heard about the new paradigm? Why, nowadays, an urgent message could travel from one end of the kingdom to the other in less than six months. If you didn’t adjust your methodologies to deal with this rapid pace of information flow, you were toast. The old valuation methodologies just weren’t valid anymore. Morty Kai’s thinking was quaint, and definitely still in favor with the tweed-and-bowtie wearing set, but in the real world? It was simply outdated. “Follow the Cash?” What did that even mean? Morty Kai was a relic. A dinosaur. “Morty Kai = Loser,” Haman tweeted one day. Surely, his 250,000 Twitter followers agreed.

Eventually, Haman realized that he was spending way too much time worrying about Morty Kai’s opinion. It wouldn’t be sufficient to simply trash him in the media. Haman wanted to decimate the various hedge funds under Morty Kai’s control, and put Morty Kai out of business for good. By the time Haman was done with him, Morty Kai would be considered toxic in the investment industry, and would be relegated to serving as a part-time professor at some small-town college, teaching Portfolio Analysis & Theory to a bunch of architecture majors. Haman would find out about Morty Kai’s largest positions, and then simply take the opposite position, doing so in such size that he would eventually move the market decidedly against Morty Kai, leading to a significant drawdown for his funds. For example, if Morty Kai had a significantly large long position in galbanum futures, Haman would short it in even larger volumes, pushing the price down.

Unfortunately for Haman, Morty Kai was a relatively conservative investor, who was practically allergic to leverage, and always highly diversified, with a focus on a low correlation among his major holdings. Taking him down would require some well-executed market manipulation. While Haman was willing and able to carry out such a campaign, Morty Kai had a decent amount of assets under management, and wouldn’t cave easily. To carry out his plan, Haman needed to put a lot more money into play. It would require the type of assets under management (AUM) that only someone like King Ahasueres could provide.

At the time, Haman already had more of the king’s assets under management than did any other money manager. The king was a classic front-runner, always seeking to increase his exposure to the hottest money manager. Haman was already the Flavor of the Month among the custodians of the royal portfolio, as King Ahasueres had already raised his profile above that of all of the other money managers in his employ. Still, this was not enough for Haman. To destroy Morty Kai and “his type,” Haman would need to control all of the king’s liquid assets. (Note that Haman never told people what he meant by “Morty Kai’s type,” perhaps wishing to remain politically correct. He didn’t want to jeopardize his frequent guest appearances on the financial networks, which were good for business. However, perhaps we can assume that Haman wished to eradicate all of the “value” investors).

Winning the king over would be reasonably easy, but would require doing a bit of homework. First, Haman constructed a model Morty Kai portfolio, based largely upon public filings, which indicated the funds’ largest holdings. He filled in the blanks in the mock portfolio by drawing lots and throwing darts at a dartboard. Then, with the help of a quantitatively-inclined intern, Haman performed a Monte Carlo simulation, which showed that Morty Kai’s model portfolio would underperform its benchmarks over the next six months (as indicated above, the king was a big fan of semi-annual performance evaluation) in more than 70% of the simulations. He took his “findings” and incorporated them into a few brightly-colored charts (Haman chuckled as he did this, wondering whether or not Morty Kai even knew how to use PowerPoint), scheduled a meeting with the king, and left his office holding his laptop and a large attaché case.

Haman’s briefcase held the key to obtaining access to the entirety of the king’s assets. The king had always managed his business on a pay-to-play basis, and Haman had brought along 10,000 talents of silver to cement his argument. This was considered a tremendous amount of money in those days. It was enough money to rent a three-bedroom cottage in the Hamptons (with direct beach access!) for two summers, with enough left over for fractional ownership in a private Gulfstream 4 jet for a year.

At the meeting with the king, Haman got right to the point. “Your majesty, I need to alert you to a risk factor, which could lead to the systemic failure of the kingdom’s entire financial ecosystem.” Having thus grabbed the king’s attention, he proceeded with his presentation. “There’s a certain group of money managers out there, scattered throughout the finance industry, whose investment methodologies are different from the mainstream. If allowed to continue, their activities could lead to a market meltdown, which would require significant government intervention, perhaps necessitating the injection of enormous amounts of liquidity from the king’s own treasury.” Haman paused for effect. “Do you mean that my treasury department would be forced to buy the sovereign debt of each of the 127 nations in the kingdom, just to keep interest rates artificially low, thereby propping up asset values?” asked the king. Haman simply nodded, then went in for the kill. “In fact, your Highness, some of these very money managers to whom I’m referring are currently managing significant portions of the king’s own portfolio!” The king was taken aback, and began to panic. “Haman, this is terrible. We must stop them! Is there anything we can do? What do you suggest?” “Well,” Haman answered, “The first thing we can do is to make sure to clean up the roster of the royal portfolio managers. I recommend that from this day forward, management of the king’s entire portfolio be outsourced to my firm, Amalek Capital. We will be solely responsible for settling upon an asset allocation strategy and for choosing the sub-managers.” The king nodded in apparent agreement, so Haman continued. He lifted his heavy attaché case onto the conference room table, and popped it open, revealing its shiny contents. “Of course, I have long subscribed to the king’s position that an effective manager needs to have some ‘skin in the game.’ As you can see, I’m very committed to the notion of mutual value creation.” The king smiled broadly. “Yes, Haman, I can see that your incentive program is properly designed to align the interests of the fund manager with those of his client. Very well done. You are now my sole money manager.”

Having accomplished that part of his plan, Haman now went for the coup de grace. “In addition, your Highness, I’m going to need you to pass a decree, or as we call it, a ‘regulatory directive.’ In order to prevent continued unfettered speculation in the kingdom’s various financial markets, beginning on the 13th day of the month of Adar (allowing for a soft phase-in period for the new regulations), each and every hedge fund in the kingdom will have to be registered with the Persian Exchange Commission, and their entire portfolios will need to be marked-to-market on a daily basis.” The king was all too happy to comply with this request for a royal regulatory directive. After all, it would make it clear to everyone that King Ahasueres was cleaning up the markets, once again making them safe for the little guy. It was time to level the playing field, and shut down the casino. “Haman, that is a brilliant idea. We will put this directive in place right away. In fact, to save time, because you are the driving force behind it anyway, let your firm’s outside counsel draft something, and I’ll just rubber-stamp it. We’ll then e-mail it to every Registered Investment Manager, and follow-up with a hard copy via horse mail in the coming weeks.”

“By the way,” added the king, “Feel free to take back your briefcase. The anticipated excess return on my portfolio, once we’ve removed these troublesome managers, will amount to many multiples of your generous…processing fee.” Haman was pleased. This had been an enormously successful meeting. “Your Highness, what do you say we grab a couple of beers at O’Lunney’s Pub down the block? They have Guiness on tap, and there’s a bartender there who serves it up with a head so thick you can float a gold coin on it.” So the king and Haman went to drink, while for many money managers, the world would never be the same.

A Purim Tale: Part V

2011-03-14T22:40:00.000-04:00

The Story So Far: A fund manager named Haman becomes the man of the moment in the investment industry. Mordy Kai refuses to give him his due, making Haman determined to destroy Kai and his fellow value investors. Haman meets with the king, becoming the sole money manager for the royal portfolio, and convinces the king to introduce a regulation which was certain to put Kai at a distinct competitive disadvantage.

In his office located just off the trading floor, Morty Kai read the regulatory directive with disbelief. The decision to move to daily marking-to-market for all hedge funds would practically be a death sentence for his funds, and those of so many within his close-knit fraternity of traders and hedge fund managers. Morty Kai’s funds often took “unpopular” positions, seeking to profit from “Black Swans,” events which were deemed highly unlikely, so therefore priced inefficiently low in the marketplace. No one believed that either Hodu or Kush would ever default on their municipal bonds, but if they did, Morty Kai would make a killing on the credit default swaps he had bought. However, until that occurred, his positions typically showed significant losses. By being forced to mark-to-market every day, his funds would show big losses, leading to investor redemption requests, and possibly the loss of his credit lines.

Morty Kai called a large group of his colleagues, whom he believed to be similarly affected by the new ruling, and proposed that they gather at a three-day, off-site conference to discuss possible solutions. As Morty Kai put it in his e-mail invitation, “We will lock ourselves in that conference room for three days, until we figure it out. No one is leaving the room until we have a solution.” The latest versions of Microsoft Excel were distributed to the public.

Morty Kai then contacted Queen Esther and told her of Haman’s evil plan. Having seen a blurb on the Wall Street Journal’s web site about Haman taking over sole responsibility for managing the king’s portfolio, he knew intuitively that Haman was behind this regulatory ruling as well. Morty Kai requested that Esther approach the king, and ask him to reconsider his decision to give Haman authority over the entire royal portfolio. Esther was worried about this. “The king is not interested in hearing unsolicited investment ideas from me. We haven’t even spoken about investments since the last monthly Investment Committee meeting. Why, if I even bring something up about the portfolio’s correlation coefficient, he’s bound to kick me off the Committee altogether. Still, I’ll approach him and do my best. Good luck at your three-day off-site meeting.”

Queen Esther then spent the next three days performing due diligence and investment research. After this period, she approached the king, as he sat in his office, looking at his Bloomberg terminal. Esther approached, and said “Your Majesty, I’d like to discuss the royal portfolio with you.” The king nodded, and said, “Okay, what is it?” “I actually don’t want to discuss it here, during market hours. I’d prefer to invite you and Haman for a round of golf tomorrow at Royal Pines, and we can discuss it as a team.” “Very well,” said the king. “Let’s notify Haman, and I’ll see you on the links.”

The next day, at the golf course, the king was in good spirits. With the exception of having three-putted on the 11th hole for a bogey, he was having an excellent day. “So, Esther,” he said, “What would you like to discuss regarding the royal portfolio? I’m always happy to get a recommendation from you. Mention any idea regarding the investment of up to half my portfolio, and it shall be done.” “Actually, your Majesty,” she answered, “I would like to invite you and Haman for another round of golf tomorrow.”

Haman left the golf course brimming with confidence over his new status with the Queen. He recalled all of the people who had ridiculed him when he was toiling away for 16 hours a day as a trainee at an investment bank, from the egghead quants who had said that he was “more than two standard deviations below the mean,” to those trust fund preppies, with their Paul Stuart blazers and summer homes on the Cape. Where were they now, huh? Surely, they weren’t golfing with the King and Queen…for two days in a row. Life was good, Haman thought.

A Purim Tale: Part VI

2011-03-14T22:38:00.002-04:00

The Story So Far: Facing the potential for heavy investment losses, and the possible dissolution of his funds, Morty Kai mobilizes his fellow fund managers, and asks Queen Esther to appeal to the king. She invites the king and Haman to play golf on consecutive days.

That night, the king couldn’t sleep, no matter what he tried. He had taken three Ambiens, the last one more than an hour ago, but to no avail. Resorting to a desperate measure, he asked for the head of the Compliance Department to come to his room, and read all of the entries in the Compliance Log. If that didn’t put him to sleep, nothing would.

The Head of Compliance began to read, until he came upon the entry about Morty Kai the fund manager, who had broken the XM and Sirius insider trading scandal, and reported it to compliance, also saving the king millions of dollars in the process. “Stop right there,” the king ordered. “Have we done anything to reward him for blowing the whistle on these guys?” When told that Morty Kai had not been rewarded for his good deeds, owing to a significant amount of backlog and recent budget cuts in that particular department, the king made a note of the need to recognize Morty Kai for his actions.

At that very moment, Haman appeared at the king’s door. He had decided that rather than wait for the mark-to-market regulations to take effect, he would attempt to put Morty Kai out of business immediately. His plan was to ask the king to order that Morty Kai’s credit lines with his clearing house be canceled, and that the king order that any bank which agreed to give Morty Kai a new credit line would not be given any of the government’s substantial bond underwriting business.

Before Haman could make this suggestion, however, the king asked him. “Haman, if I were to institute a ‘Fund manager of the Year’ award, what would we do to honor the person upon whom we bestowed that title? Hearing this, Haman figured, “’Fund Manager of the Year?’ To whom else could the king be referring but me? No one has generated the returns that I have.”

Haman described the ceremony. “The person who receives this designation shall receive a new wardrobe, consisting of three Oxxford suits, six Brioni ties, two pairs of Ferragamo shoes, and a dozen custom-made shirts from Ascot Chang. For the next year, he shall be able to borrow and wear the watch of his choice from the king’s collection of luxury timepieces (Haman had his eye on a certain diamond-encrusted Franck Muller watch the king owned). He shall be given a ticker-tape parade through the financial district in the king’s Aston Martin convertible, with a well-known fund manager behind the wheel, calling out as he drives, ‘congratulations to the Fund Manager of the Year.’”

The king smiled and said, “Excellent idea. Do exactly as you describe for Morty Kai, the inaugural recipient of the ‘Fund Manager of the Year’ award, for his excellent investment returns and his unshakable ethics. And you’d better not scratch my Aston Martin while you’re driving it, Haman.”

Haman was shocked, and more than a little displeased, but he did what he was told. What choice did he have?

The parade was a disaster for Haman. He was covered with ticker tape, as he watched all the annoying, conservative value investors rejoicing in Morty Kai’s recognition, dancing around with their dog-eared copies of Benjamin Graham’s “Security Analysis” and “The Intelligent Investor.” To make matters worse, he got an urgent call on his Blackberry from the office that one of his traders had entered the wrong ticker symbol on a trade, and the firm had lost several thousand dollars unwinding the trade. Then, a policeman on horseback gave him a ticket for using his cell phone while driving.

When he got back home, his miserable wife, Zeresh, who seemed to live for kicking him whenever he was down, started to give him a hard time. “You think you’re better than Morty Kai? You’ll never generate better long-run investment returns than him. And shorting galbanum futures? Any idiot knows that’s a sucker’s play. You’re about to get squeezed big time, buddy.”

Haman blocked out her shrill rantings, and went to his home office, closing the door behind him. He had another appointment to play golf with the king and queen that afternoon, and if he didn’t get his head straight, there was no way he’s shoot a decent round.

A Purim Tale: Part VII

2011-03-14T22:30:00.004-04:00

The Story So Far: Haman is surprised to learn that his bitter rival, Morty Kai, has been named the inaugural winner of the king's "Fund Manager of the Year" award...and that Haman himself must participate in the award ceremony.

At the golf course that day, on the 13th hole, the king once again asked Esther, “What would you like to discuss about my investments? Any logical recommendation, even one covering up to 50% of my investable assets, and it shall be put in place.”

Esther paused, and then said, “Your highness, I need to warn you about a terrible impending calamity that will befall the markets. There is someone who is attempting to squeeze a certain type of investor out of the marketplace, in the process creating an enormous asset bubble, from which he will profit greatly. At first, everyone will feel good about things, watching the paper value of their portfolios climb inexorably higher. However, once this fund manager’s pump-and-dump scheme has run its course, and he closes out his positions, the markets will crash, and the domino effect will roil all of the kingdom’s markets for the foreseeable future. Investors will lose confidence in the markets, credit will tighten, the increased borrowing costs will put a major damper on overall economic activity, unemployment will soar, and your Treasury will nearly be depleted trying vainly to single-handedly prop up the economy.”

Upon hearing this dire forecast, the king demanded to know, “Who is this person, who seeks to gain personal financial benefit at the expense of the public?”

Esther pointed at Haman and said, “It is him, the evil fund manager Haman!”

As she spoke these words, the king, in his surprise, badly sliced his tee shot, sending the ball deep into a thicket of trees approximately 50 yards to the right of the fairway. He angrily flung his club as far as he could, and stormed off.

Haman knew that he was finished, and that he’d never be able to raise funds in this kingdom again. Still, acting out of desperation, he approached Queen Esther where she sat in the golf cart, and did the only thing he could do…he offered her a job. “How much is he paying you?” Haman asked. “I’ll double it, guarantee your bonus for the first three years, and give you about 3% of the firm’s equity. We’ve already registered for the IPO. The S-1 was filed last week. I’d expect that we’ll go public by the fall, depending on overall market conditions, of course.”

Queen Esther was not swayed. “A publicly traded hedge fund? Is that even possible?” she asked. Haman had just begun to walk her through the highlights of his investment bankers’ pitch book when the king returned. Hearing part of their conversation, he flew into a rage.

“I can’t believe this! Not only are you planning to cause the collapse of the entire financial market superstructure, but you’re trying to hire the Queen away, on my golf course!? Are you kidding me?”

On the spot, the king fired Haman, and demanded that he disgorge all of the trading profits and fees he had earned while managing the king’s money.

At this point, Charvonah, who had been serving as the group’s caddy, mentioned to the king that Haman had also conspired to get the clearing house to cancel Morty Kai’s credit line, thereby effectively shuttering his operation. This, after Morty Kai had blown the whistle on what could have been a major insider trading scandal, averting an enormous financial and public relations disaster for the king.

Hearing this, the king permanently barred Haman from the securities industry, and forbade him from ever holding an officer or director position at any publicly traded company.

After this, Queen Esther formally introduced King Ahasueres to Morty Kai, pointing out that he was her mentor, and the person she would most often consult on investment matters. The king put Morty Kai in charge of his entire portfolio.

Morty Kai and Esther then worked with the king and the regulators to undo the mark-to-market regulation, which was still poised to go into effect. Unfortunately, according to Persian law, repealing such regulation would require a 2/3 majority of the parliament. As there were many within that body who were still loyal to Haman, scores of legislators simply left the kingdom for a “vacation,” so as not to be present for the vote, thereby blocking any legislative action.

Undaunted, Morty Kai and Esther obtained a temporary restraining order from a sympathetic royal judge, thereby putting the mark-to-market regulation on hold indefinitely.
They then requested that Haman’s ten sons, who worked closely with their father at Amalek Capital, and were therefore certainly aware of his evil plans, also be banned permanently from the securities industry. This wish was also granted by the king.

Thus was chaos averted and order restored to the kingdom and its financial markets, and the people rejoiced. The day was forever commemorated with the consumption of food and drink and the sharing of stock tips between each man and his fellow. The resulting improved information flow had the effect of allowing the markets to assimilate all information, both public and non-public, almost immediately, greatly increasing market efficiency. This put the professional arbitrageurs and high-frequency traders out of business, but no one had ever liked them much, anyway.

Morty Kai and Esther then crafted the foregoing story into a best-selling book (receiving a large advance from the publisher). The book, which received almost unanimously favorable reviews, soon became an essential part of business school curricula throughout the kingdom, serving as a cautionary tale for generations of investment professionals.

And Morty Kai the fund manager, assisted by Queen Esther, managed the king’s portfolio for many years to come in a prudent manner, generating positive risk- and inflation-adjusted returns and soundly outperforming his benchmarks.

THE END

Water, Water Everywhere...

2011-03-14T10:19:00.002-04:00

...including the basement floor.

We check the basement every so often when there is heavy rain, even though we've never had a problem. We did construction a few years ago so the crazy half of the MBB/FBB couple has always felt it necessary to check the basement more regularly since then.

Usually I send one of the kids down and tell them to take off their shoes and run their foot along the perimeter of the room so they can feel if anything has seeped in.

Thursday night I asked MBB if we should check, and he said yes, but we got busy cleaning up the kitchen (yes, I know that's the funniest thing written on this blog in a long time), and forgot about checking and went to sleep.

The next morning I asked one of the kids to go downstairs and check. She came up and said:

"Uh, we have a big problem, and I don't need to take off my shoe to see it!"

There was about an inch of water in one of the basement bedrooms, the puddle pooling between the beds. It could have been worse. I heard of a few people who had upwards of four inches in their basements. Good thing we forgot to check the night before, had we known sooner, I doubt there was anything we could have done about it at 11:30 at night except worry (one of us, anyway)

Instead when I found out, I did what any good American does when faced with water in the basement. I called my homeowners insurance company. I don't know if they cover the "extraction and remediation"( a really fancy way of saying "sucking out all the water and spraying anti-microbial solution"), but I figured I'd get them involved first and let them tell me what to do.

Since the rains had been so prolific, and there had been so much melting snow, the cleaning companies were,pardon the pun, deluged with work. No one could come until Saturday, so it was going to be Sunday. In a way I was glad, (once they told me waiting seventy two hours would be no problem), because then we would know if more was coming in. MBB opted to spend two hours getting rid of the water we could see pooling atop the carpet (we have a wet-dry vac), then ran a dehumidifier and turned on the ceiling fans.

They came Sunday, checked the walls for water (anyone know a sheetrock guy?), got rid of the rest of the water IN the carpet, and left us with dehumidifiers and fans. Thanks to my sister's flood issue many moons ago we did not use padding when we put down the basement carpet, it's glued right to the cement. It's a little hard if you sit on it, but the kids don't seem to mind, and it saved us from needing to rip up the carpet.

I'm waiting to hear if we're actually covered, and figure out if this was a fluke thing, or if I need to re-waterproof the outside walls. One guy seem to think it was because the water was SO high, a lot of people who never had problems were having problems.

I'm not sure that this doesn't fall in the "They don't make things like they used to category," - this room is only four and half years old.

Pearls of Wisdom?

2011-03-07T19:43:00.002-05:00

My dear darling laundry room sleeping seven year old, has become funnier and funnier.

Apparently she is pro-choice:

"Why do you care when I go to bed? It's not YOUR body!"

Her nose is quite small, basically she has no bridge, just a small little bump at the bottom with nostrils:

"When the Malach touched me here {pointing to the indentation above her lip}...he SMASHED my nose!"

I was feeding the baby, and I asked her to get something from downstairs. She said she couldn't, so I said I would. She asked if I would go "like that," (i.e., feeding the baby). I gave a non-committal eyebrow raise. A minute later:

"If there was a book about feeding your baby, I think it would say 'DO NOT FEED YOUR BABY WHILE WALKING DOWN THE STEPS.'"

What is THAT?????

2011-03-03T22:22:00.003-05:00

I took one of the girls, a young teenager (13), to the pediatrician. Calamity Jane, as she is lovingly referred to in Chez Blogberg, had just been to the doctor for her "bronchial spasms," as she so heartily reminded us. Time and Time and Time again.

Now, she was nebulizing twice a day to help her with expectoration, but she had AWFUL ear pain, and her face hurt. I diagnosed a possible ear infection, which I usually opt not to treat with antibiotics if the pain is remedied with ibuprofen. I also diagnosed a possible sinus infection, based on where her face hurt if it was touched.

She had a little fluid in her ears, but she had a sinus infection. The doctor pulled out his phone, and was ready to send her medication information directly to the pharmacy, when he turned and asked "liquid or pills?

Quite confidently, and more than a little proud of herself she replied "PILLS!"

I don't think she was expecting this:

I'm not exactly sure who they think is taking these pills (the advil is in the picture for comparative purposes), but my first thought was some sort of supplement or medication for a very large four legged mammal -most likely tusked.

Right now she's rinsing her sinuses with some sinus wash, and getting ready to down her oversized caplet.

She's in her glory!

Night at the Theater II

2011-02-27T20:53:00.002-05:00

Not a glutton for punishment, but I went back to the performance tonight. For two reasons: One, I felt bad sending her Grandmother alone, and two, the kid is kind of small, and I felt she needed her mother there. I also was slightly curious what would happen on night two. So I really went for all of you.

We got there a little late, but still before it started. On this night there were a few more announcements, and a few more thank yous. One thank you was to "Naomi, who played drums. Is she here? Well, I hope she gets here before her choir goes on!" (I saw her a few minutes later)

The auditorium was also much emptier, which you wouldn't have known from the volume. Tonight she didn't bother to tell the kids to stay in the back, she said "Do not sit in the aisles, there are empty seats, sit there!. I guess this happens a lot. One night is not enough, but two nights don't fill up.

I decided, both for me and for the little twerpazoid who went to sleep after midnight last night, that we would leave, with the little dancer, after she went on. I knew, having been there the night before that I was only committing to about forty minutes.

Whatever happened last night, whatever weird and crazy things, nothing could come close to what happened tonight.

It was the second scene. Two girls were singing "Forever One," in front of the curtain. all of a sudden a little boy, young enough to still have a ponytail, but old enough to walk well and determinedly, trooped up the side steps toddled his way across the stage to an open mike, and was about to take it when the organizer jumped up and pulled him off the stage. I thought for a minute that maybe it was her kid, until I saw her standing, holding him looking around, and then returned him laughingly to his mother.

Somehow the whole thing seemed reminiscent of chickens on the packed trains in Bangladesh.

Eye of the Tiger Mother

2011-02-27T10:50:00.007-05:00

In a recent post, FBB detailed a somewhat chaotic scene at the security line at Miami International Airport, involving an Asian woman who was unable to understand the security agents' directions, and the extra attention she received.

Upon reflection, I believe that this situation was less about a communication problem, and more of a reaction to Amy Chua's controversial new book, "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother." After all, the last thing we need is to have some Asian woman hijacking a plane and forcing everyone to practice the cello for three hours before being released.

In a nutshell, Chua's book states that the "success" of Chinese children is due primarily to their mothers, and their strict, authoritarian child-rearing style. She contrasts this with the indulgent, permissive Western parents, whose inadequate parenting method explains their offspring's relative lack of "success."

Without getting into the specifics of the relative merits - or lack thereof - of the different parenting styles, I'd like to look at the issue from another perspective.

A book like this one would have hardly gained any attention just a few years ago. The reason why it resonates with people now is that we've generally bought into the "Chinese hype" with which we're currently being inundated.

The Chinese economy is growing at a feverish pace, to the point where they've now become the world's 2nd largest economy, after the United States. The Chinese also own an increasing proportion of the U.S.'s foreign debt, giving rise to the fear that they will eventually "own the United States."

This is not the first time we've been faced with this type of unnecessary fear and hand-wringing. As an example, look at Japan, from whom the Chinese recently took the #2 world economy ranking. Back in the 1980s and early 1990s, people in this country were certain that the Japanese were going to take over the world, the U.S. included. I can recall a certain business school professor of mine who was such a Japophile that he was convinced that the entire U.S. economic system was destined for collapse unless we adopted Japanese corporate methods. One decade-long Japanese recession later, and this professor's warnings seem a bit less prescient. In fact, as some of you might know, for the past two years, I've been working for a large Japanese company. As I've grown accustomed to their ways, I've found myself asking the same question I asked when I traveled to Russia a few years ago: "We were actually afraid of these people?!"

While there's certainly some admirable organizational and management skills in their culture, the level of groupthink and aversion to diverging from the almighty "process" is so strong and pervasive that it is difficult for most companies to address challenges by changing course. I suspect that the same is true for Chinese companies. After all, communist societies aren't exactly renowned for their promotion of individuality.

In my opinion, the larger issue here is that economically and culturally, many Americans seem to harbor a deeply-seated inferiority complex. I'm not sure why this is the case. Perhaps it's because our leadership is too busy being politically correct, instead of rallying us all around a patriotic American cause. In other words, this generation needs its Ronald Reagan.

The lack of strong leadership has also manifested itself in our popular culture. Back in the 1980s, if someone was giving us a hard time, we'd send Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger in with a bunch of guns and grenades, and they'd set things right. Or, Chuck Norris would show up, execute a couple of flying kicks, bite the head off a rat, and America's place in the world would be secure. Nowadays, you're more likely to get some sensitive "hero" driving around in a Prius, taking on an enemy with an impossibly vague accent.

Clearly, the Chinese have accomplished a great deal, and they're poised to remain a major factor in the global economic landscape for a long time. (I do wonder whether or not they will ultimately be tripped up by their extremely low birth rates, a factor which has proven to be the downfall of many "developed" nations). I'll let you decide whether or not you want to lose any sleep over it, or if you want to adopt any of the "tiger mother's" child-rearing methods.

I'll conclude with a riddle:

Q: What do you say to a former Chinese child prodigy?

A: "Could I get that with brown rice instead of white rice?"

A Night at the Theater?

2011-02-27T00:28:00.004-05:00

What should have been the first clue? If I knew, would it have changed anything? Not likely. As a parent, I was there, and there for the long haul.

My seven year old daughter was in a performance that is organized by a woman who recruits thirteen year olds to run choirs and dances, that showcase 7-12 year olds. Apparently, this is a fundraiser, but no one seemed to know who the funds were for, and I made the check for the tickets out to cash. Hmmm. That's the system, your kid is in the performance, and you pay for the ticket to come watch the show.

For the past three months she's had practice every Sunday for an hour and a half, and this past Wednesday a dress rehearsal. We were all very excited, and were anticipating a good time, and a good show.

The performance itself was very cute and very sweet, the show, for me, was everything that surrounded it.

It's all about what you're used to, and what your expectations are. I was neither used to any of this, nor did I expect it, though I should have. Honestly, so much of it was beyond what I was used to, I sat there boggled for most of the night. I expected the show to start late, it did, but not as late as I thought. That was probably the only "good surprise" of the evening. The organizer made a very quick introduction, noting that the kids were from 17 different schools, and how nice it was that they all worked together, and they impressed upon them that they should talk to each other if they meet out in the world. That really was nice. Unfortunately the audience did not have that same feeling of caring for others and strangers. The noise level in the theater remained CONSTANT throughout the various scenes (it wasn't a play, just a little narration followed by either a choir, a choir/dance mix/ or just a dance), except for the few times they asked for quiet. People did not whisper, people were talking across rows to other audience members, and people were acting as if they were sitting and watching a movie with friends in their living rooms. It was LOUD.

I guess I should have realized the kind of "Heimishe" night I was in for, when the performance started with a cute song and dance, followed immediately by the organizer announcing "don't worry if you missed that, we're going to do it again later, just one mother has to leave so we just did it now to accommodate her." That was really really really nice. Apparently, veterans of these shows know that if your kid is in it at the end, you don't come right at the beginning. I guess it's really nice to do that switcheroo, but it sort of alerted me to what the mood was going to be.

Maybe it was that kind of "yeah whatever" attitude that had women running up the side steps to backstage to hug the organizer in the middle of the performance. Maybe that's why thirty seconds after she announced that the kids in the performance who were not onstage should stay in a specially designated room that had a video hookup of the stage, about fifty kids came to sit on their mothers' laps. And when she announced no food, I glanced at the people in the row in front of me who were drinking. Not from cans, or straws, no, they had a huge bottle of apple juice and were pouring it into paper cups. Next came the brownies, and other goodies, I was waiting for them to whip out the candles and complete the Melave Malke!

Perhaps some women need to be taught, that when attending the theater, even if you are still wearing your Shabbos clothes, you need to change to a flatter hat. Carmen Miranda would have been proud.

Why in a performance with no scenery and no props did it take three minutes before each scene started?

I had to laugh when towards the very end she announced "OK, we're almost ready for the finale, any kids who are in the theater please come to the room we have designated," HALF THE PLACE GOT UP AND STREAMED OUT!!! She chuckled and said "so that's where you all are!"

Hello? No one noticed that almost 400 hundred kids weren't where they were supposed to be?

Then came the finale. The never practiced finale in which she was directing and maneuvering all the kids, and that's when I got nervous. My seven year old is on the small side (remember the laundry room?), and there were tons of kids on that stage in no discernible order. I got up to go to the backstage area, not wanting her to G-d forbid get crushed, and stopped first in the "designated room." It was the cafeteria, with tables and benches and a huge screen with the finale visible. There were about ten kids in the room. One of them was my little one. I asked her why she didn't go onstage and she responded "There was too much traffic."

Well, I collected her at that point and left. I have to take her back tonight, but this time she's not staying (the two hours) past her scene. She's coming home and going to bed. She had a great time, and it was great to see her perform, will we do it next year?

I guess we'll see.

More to Life Than Pizza

2011-02-23T13:14:00.002-05:00

There's a story in the news today about a pizza woman who saved the life of her customer, because the customer, deviating from a three year stretch of DAILY thin crust pepperoni pizza deliveries, had not ordered any for a few days. The pizza delivery woman got nervous, and went to the house. When there was no response she called the police who entered the home and found the 82 year old peperoni lover on the floor. She had fallen three days before and could not get to the phone.

There are potentially a lot of humorous elements to take out of this story, but I am struck by one very troubling thing.

The only person in the world who seemed to worry about not hearing from this 82 year old woman for three days, was her pizza deliverer.

Even if she had no children, how sad to live a life where three days go by and no one else notices. She obviously wasn't a woman who traveled, since she ordered this pizza everyday for three years straight. So where were her friends, siblings, nieces or nephews, NEIGHBORS? I get that Tennessee can be very rural, but Memphis?

It sounds so sad to me.

A Modern Disability

2011-02-22T10:37:00.002-05:00

This morning I was cutting oranges for one of the kids to take to school. I cut some in quarters and some in slices, and she'll tell me tonight which way she likes it better. I often just "pre-peel" them by slicing off a round top, and then scoring the peel in sections down the sides, and then the kids eat it like a normal orange in wedges. Somehow, oranges taste different in these different forms, or so I am told.

In the course of the cutting, I, as I often do, sliced my finger. Specifically, my thumb. No big deal, a usual occurrence. My hands are so lined and creased I hardly notice the few extra marks I add each year. So I got a band-aid, placed it around the tip of my thumb and moved on with my day. Often a cut will hurt for a few minutes, or an hour or two, though this one hardly hurt at all, but there's a different problem....

Texting is taking forever because the band-aid is in the way, and I keep hitting the wrong keys!

Who'da thunk it?

Snapshots

2011-02-18T14:22:00.003-05:00

These are two of my favorite pictures from this trip:

I Sure Feel Safer

2011-02-17T22:14:00.004-05:00

At the end of our lovely time in Miami, we obviously needed to go to the airport and make our way through the joy that has become airport security. The joke that that is .

Being that we had the ultimate weapon, a sleeping baby (well he did smell a little, luckily it was under three ounces or we'd have had to take it off him and bag it in quart size ziplock- what a boon for the plastic companies. The ugly sister of bags, the wallflower size, suddenly the belle of the ball, a bag that sells itself!) he needed to be woken up, removed from his car seat, which needed to be placed through the x- ray machine along with his stroller. (he did not go through the screener, I carried him through the metal detector)

After my carry-on, purse, shoes, car seat and stroller came out I noticed a TSA guy sticking his head through the little tunnel that all this stuff had just come through. I got a little nervous as I noticed that the sunscreen that had mistakenly been left in the bottom of the stroller fell off the belt. The belt was now stopped with half of Mbb's stuff out of the tunnel, and some waiting just a little further in. I gulped, then I heard the TSA guy say to the female agent watching the screen "did you see a boarding pass? I think it went through here." Now, I knew it wasn't either of our boarding passes he was looking for, so I quickly picked up the Water Babies, and moved on to opening the stroller.

MBB was just standing there waiting for his bag to come out. At this point I had my shoes on, the stroller open and the boy strapped back in his seat. The belt was stopped, we thought because TSA guy stuck his head in there, but we were wrong.

"If ya move your stuff off the belt, and pick up the bins I can send the rest through," snarled Female TSA Agent.

Like it was our fault. Like WE stopped the belt. Like we worked for the TSA, and needed to move the white bins off the belt. No, no and no.

BECAUSE IF WE WORKED FOR THE TSA WE WOULD NOT HAVE MOVED THE SIXTY FIVE YEAR OLD ASIAN WOMAN TO THE SIDE FOR A FULL MANUAL PAT DOWN BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND THE DIRECTIONS WHEN SHE WAS PUT IN THE FULL BODY SCREENER AND SHE "MOVED TOO MUCH"!! (By the way, who sees those images? because they don't show up on the screen outside -I admit, I was looking-I was very curious).

We can all rest easy, knowing that a banned substance went through, but a woman who looked nothing but confused got the extra special security check.

More Travels

2011-02-14T00:12:00.000-05:00

After a lovely Shabbos, albeit cool and rainy, we checked in with the kiddies left behind, and got ready to go visit a cousin who lives in North Miami Beach. Another cousin and aunt and uncle were also here on vacation, so we had a mini reunion. It precluded another trip to a restaurant, but they had decent pizza. I’m trying to figure out how many pounds a person can gain in four days, so everything I’m eating is being eaten in the name of science. I am doing this for the good of mankind. Too bad I skipped the Krispy Kreme, then this would be a truly selfless exercise.

We got back fairly late, and after some more schmoozing with the in-laws turned in fairly later, recharging for a day of fun and sun in the morning. We awoke to a sunny South Florida morning with the slightest chill in the air, one that foretold a day of perfect temperature. Not sweltering and not too cool. Not blazing enough to have packed beaches, but not cool enough to get in the way of a day of all outdoor activity.

First, however, was brunch. There’s a place in Surfside that I love. It’s run by a French family, and is a small French café, serving salt and sweet crepes, croissants, eggs, lattes, etc. The kind of place you just want to go, because it’s so quaint and quiet and just…perfect. Fresh squeezed orange juice comes in stemware, the baguettes are toasted and served in a basket, and the bistro tables are wrought iron with matching chairs covered in a an eclectic mix of cushions.Unfortuanely there were no tables available outside, so in we sat.

MBB agreed the place was indeed quaint and wonderful, but opined that that all would be moot if the food were lousy, which it isn't. It is quite good, and very fresh tasting. Plus, when you see the chef come out of the four by nothing kitchen, with a wisp of her hair coming out of her pony tail and framing her flushed and slightly plump face, you can’t help but smile when she starts speaking to the very tall mustachioed proprietor in their native French.

Full and smiley we made our way up A1A to Hollywood, where we found parking on a side street near the north end of the famous Hollywood broadwalk. For the uninitiated that is not boardwalk spelled wrong, it’s a different type of seaside walkway. For starters, it is not raised. It abuts the beach as it meets the sand, separated only by a very low stone wall, with frequent breaks to allow for unfettered access to the sand. At some points the ocean waters are pretty close to this wide stone pedestrian paradise, and thus you get a day at the beach without all the sand in your shoes, toes, hair, nails, etc,. The broadwalk was bustling on a Sunday afternoon, the restaurants were packed, the bike lane was full, and the walkers were many. Live music pulsated from many of the eateries and bars, though the atmosphere remained “family friendly.” Not surprising really, considering that we did not see anyone between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Unlike Lincoln road where the age of the people ran from weeks old to possibly a century and everything in between, we only saw pre teen and younger and thirty and older in Hollywood. We walked about three miles or so, total, and introduced the boy to the beauty of the ocean, he seemed fascinated. The rolling waves, the crashing sounds, he was mesmerized. Unlike his parents he did not get to feel the sand in his toes, and we doubt he appreciated that salty air scent.

Late lunch, gifts for the kids, a slow drive back, and a late dinner out after depositing the boy with his doting grandparents, rounded out the day.

This morning we went for brunch again at my little café, this time a party of four. It was nice and leisurely, and when we got back I made sure to spend time on the terrace just enjoying the view and the sunshine. Then off to the airport and back to the the windy cold temperatures of New York. We got lucky with our flight crew. Not only did they speak clearly on the PA system (I’ve often wondered if pilots needed to pass a deep voice test to get their license), but they updated us continuously. Like when we were put in a holding pattern, and when we turned over Atlantic City, and when we were put in a second holding pattern, and when we landed and needed to be towed into our gate, and when the jetway had no power and we would have to wait longer to get off the plane, and when we would have to sit down, re-stow all our items because the jetway really wasn’t working and we would have to change gates, and then GOOD NEWS! When the jetway did work before we pulled away and changed gates we were all able to deplane. ( I wonder if there was some guy who had flipped a switch and there was a flurry of activity and everyone trying to fix the problem, and this one little guy was just like …ooops, sorry…and flipped it back on).

So now it's back to real life.

I can't wait.

Musings from Miami

2011-02-11T16:40:00.004-05:00

I woke up this morning, and moved the vertical shade over just a touch, peeked out and saw the tops of the palm trees swaying in the overcast morning light. Getting up was fairly easy knowing a day of warm outdoor activity awaited us.

I made a quick call to reserve two kayaks from a place right near my inlaws apartment (I didn't want to leave the baby for too long, so we didn't go to a potentially better spot), and got ready to go. I wanted just a few things from this trip. Time with MBB, kayaking, and after months of deprivation, some good meals, if they HAD to be in resteraunts? Well we'd muddle through.

We arrived atthe rental place, and I looked in the water, and see a type of I have not seen before. Now I love kayaking, but I haven't done it that often. In fact this would be the fourth time. So, I'm certainly no expert, but when I looked down on this hard blue plastic catamaran style kayak, I could not imagine looking sleek gliding through the waters of Miami Beach. But here we were. We got into the kayaks, and by now, having done this three times before, I am pleased to say we did not embarrass ourselves disembarking. For that matter I'd say we did pretty well the whole trip, but just to be sure I made sure to get two single kayaks. The extra money for the rental was worth it (I still have visions of "left, LEFT!!!!LEFT!! in my mind), because we each paddled without any worries of staying in sync, and we had a really nice time. We would have paddled further up then we did, but the "in- water" boat show starts next week, so the yachts have started to arrive, and special docks are built, and we didn't want to deal with that very frightening traffic in the water, so we only made up to about 43rd street, and turned back around. A s it is a private large boat passed us, and left us ridingbits wake for a few minutes even after it was long out of sight. The way back was definitely harder, probably because we were more tired at that point, but we left invigorated. It really was fun. As obsessions go, I like this one. It's fun, and good exercise, and not something that can be done too often. When the opportunity presents itself, I certainly do not want to pass it up.

We came back to a little boy who very much enjoyed the company of his grandparents, cleaned ourselves up, from the salt water that drips from the paddles, and got ready to go for a fairly late lunch. We got to the eatery, the ambiance was nice, but it was kind of low lit, so I asked if they still had outdoor seating(we had been there before a few years ago, when it was under different ownership, and a different name, as is fairly typical down here). We didn't come this far to sit inside. We were seated on the patio-which is really a no walled tent with hard clear plastic sides, and lots of plants ringing the perimeter, set up at the edge of a semi-public parking lot. It was very lovely, and a good place to sit with the little man, since we were the only ones out there, and his few yelps and minor cries were disruptive to no one.

As we were finishing up, we got a strong, strong scent of something very smelly. At first I thought perhaps a dog had done it's business right outside of where we were sitting, but after just another second or two, I realized that I needed to move my son, lest he receive a contact high from the two brilliant fellows who were enjoying the fruits of their freshly rolled labor. The waiter happened to be outside with us at the time, and thought it was hysterical, but also went over to the two guys and asked them to move their party elsewhere. They complied. I think he may have mentioned the baby as a way to get them to move on.

Now, I'm not sure if what happened next, happened or was just a very quick result of some inhalation, but within three seconds of those guys moving, a man and a woman came down a ramp right next to the back door of the restaurant. The man was a typical South Beach sixty year old. Shoulder length wavy hair, black shirt-half opened and tight pants. She on the other hand has me wondering how much I actually breathed in. Most likely not a day under sixty, she was wearing a scoop neck top with a high waisted belt over very tight leggings and boots. She was also sporting three very large medallion necklaces, and what could best be described as a pseudo police hat.

I consider myself a fairly polite person, but MBB and I could NOT contain our laughter!

Having been well entertained we opted for more people watching by strolling along the pedestrian promenade of Lincoln Road. That was enjoyable, as the weather was not too hot, and still slightly overcast. We slipped into the Ghiradelli store and pretended to look around, knowing a free sample was in the offing. Caramel was the flavor this week, and since MBB is off sugar, it , meant two for me. Score!

Then back to the apartment to get ready for Shabbos. Hopefully the weather will improve.

Toasty

2011-02-10T18:21:00.002-05:00

It is so cold at home, I waited for the bus with the kids this morning, and I was jumping and jogging just to keep warm. I don't know how they do it everyday.

Now, I'm sitting on a terrace with my baby in short sleeves watching the sunset with my mother-in-law. It's 77 degrees.

aaaahhhhhh

It's Really Not Fair

2011-02-07T13:14:00.003-05:00

As much as I think certain laws are ridiculous, and I'm sure I break a few minor one here and there (speed limit? what's that?), one thing I have not gotten a ticket for ( and I've only gotten two, and that was in my twenties) is driving while using a hand held cell phone.

Many people have even asked me if I sleep with my bluetooth, the answer to which is no, I do not. But I do check my ear every Friday afternoon before I light candles to make sure it has been removed. Once you go hands free in the car it's hard to get back into holding a phone while cooking, doing laundry or just generally going about your day.

That being said, many of my friends have indeed received tickets for using a hand held cell while driving locally. I understand the dangers of this practice, and think the deterrent of a two hundred dollar ticket can POTENTIALLY makes all safer, because obviously our brains aren't doing it for us. Hey! If you get in your car in a parking lot WAIT UNTIL YOU PULL OUT OF YOUR SPOT before picking up your hand held to make a call AND try to maneuver one handed out of the space. It's not that hard to wait. If you need company turn on the radio, there's plenty of talk to keep you occupied, and maybe you'll even learn something.

Unfortunately, the police don't ticket in parking lots so this practice will continue. They do ticket on the road, and this is where I have an issue. I have seen, over the last two years, many, many, many, many, many local police officers driving in their squad cars talking on their phones. Not a radio, a plain old cell phone. There is nothing about the law against driving with a hand held cell phone that exempts a cop from this danger. There are certain traffic rules that are bendable in a safe way for police officers, even those not on their way to to an emergency, this however is not one of them.

I believe the police brass should do what needs to be done to stop this embarrassing hypocrisy and flouting of the law.

WORSE THAN I THOUGHT!!!

2011-01-31T23:45:00.002-05:00

I Can't EVEN SPELL MY OWN NEW WORD CORRECTLY......MORE PROOF OF MY DOOFICITY!!!!

The girls were great. Who's to Judge?

Me.

Lights, Camera...

2011-01-31T22:47:00.003-05:00

At last, FBB has relinquished her vise-like grip on our family computer, so that I may offer up some modest-yet-tasty morsels to the deserving denizens of this particular neighborhood in Blogadishu.

My house is serenely quiet right now, as FBB and all but the two youngest of our flock have gone out for the evening to watch our two oldest daughters perform in their school play.

The two little ones are sleeping, or as I refer to it, building up their energy before proceeding to the next phase in their world domination.

Tonight's performance is actually the second of two showings of this play, which debuted last night. The early reviews of our daughters' performances was quite positive, which always makes me proud.

Certainly, those who know FBB will assume that my offspring inherited their acting skill from their mother. However, I am aware (and now you are too) that their acting skill actually comes from me.

My acting career is long and varied. I received my first break when I was cast as the lead in my 1st Grade play. I cannot recall any of my lines now, so many years hence. (Actually, I don't think I remembered many of my lines during the play, either).
Despite being a neophyte at the time, my work was well reviewed. One particularly effusive reviewer exclaimed that I "...filled the stage" with my presence. (I think that the exact words were "That kid is so fat that he filled the entire stage. I couldn't even see my poor grandson.")

The only other thing I can recall about that play was that I was cast as some sort of train conductor, and was forced to wear a silly hat. As you can see, I have suffered for my craft. Ever since that time, I have been determined that anyone who approached me with a script would need to allow me to use my own, personal costume designer. I simply won't negotiate that point.

In the intervening years, the only roles I've received have been in television, where I was asked to play myself. Interestingly, while I've reprised that role dozens of times, in various settings, I've never been approached to play a character other than myself. Clearly, this can only mean that the decision makers in the entertainment industry are well aware of the fact that even they are incapable of creating a character who would be more interesting and engaging than the real MBB. Much like the late Bob Denver, I have been typecast. Or, perhaps the costume designer thing is a deal-breaker.

Oh well.

Fortunately, I am more than content to be heretofore known as the father of great actresses.

Coining a Phrase....Or At Least a Word...

2011-01-31T17:07:00.005-05:00

This word is so encompassing, it's almost a phrase in and of itself.

There are a number of factors that have led me to coin this term. All of them are associated with my recent behaviors, all of which are best described as the ultimate in

~~DOOFICTY~~(edited: see comments) DOOFICITY

It so perfectly captures the inept and foolish way I have conducted myself lately. You all know of the Lands End shipping fiasco, and now there's the Science Center Scandal (not really a scandal, but it sounds good).

I'm a fairly cautious person, I like to check and double check things, like hours, exhibits and things of that nature. The two oldest girls have their school production this evening, and the other kids have mid-winter vacation. So I wanted to do something fun, educational, but relatively close and small. The Queens Science center fit the bill (officially the New York Hall of Science), we could go for just a few hours have a great time and be back in time to do makeup for the thespians, serve dinner and get them to the venue by 5:30 without having to leave the house at an hour that would require early rising (and potential heavy traffic sitting...ha! more later)

The first clue should have been a New York City facility with an unmanned (read: free) parking attendant booth, but I plowed on. We didn't drive an hour forty five minutes, getting off the Harlem River Drive, avoiding a major back up, to drive through the snow hampered streets of Harlem to be turned away by something as simple as free parking.

The locked doors, and "I'm sorry we're closed on Monday," left me no choice to not only admit defeat, but admit that I was in a spiral of Dooficity, punctuated later by cracking the plastic cover of my front passenger side mirror while pulling out of my snow hampered garage.

There are most certainly more examples, but hopefully one of them is not that I didn't, in anticipation of the storm, switch my kids flight from 9:30 am to 6 am to Florida tomorrow. We shall see...