I had onions for lunch

Now you know. I didn’t have JUST onions but I thought it was important to tell you that they were a big part of that particular meal.

If I was alone in the world I would have onions for lunch every day. And for dinner. I could even squeeze them into breakfast. Actually I could more than squeeze them in. Have you ever had a plain bagel with scallion cream cheese, tomato and red onion? Or an omelette that’s so full of onions and peppers that you can’t really see the egg?

I’m in the office today and the rest of my team is either off or working from home. In fact the entire floor is pretty vacant so I thought I was safe. I’ve been trying to have salads at least once a day and nothing makes a salad better than…yep.

Alone in the office. No in-person meetings. The next human I’ll see today will be at 6:30pm. Hours after consumption. I had no choice. The stars were aligned.

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. An insane work schedule mixed with the usual family obligations mixed with unexpected health scares (my mom – who is recovering like a champ). Can you blame me for letting off some steam? Going a little crazy? Letting my hair down? Sure I could have turned to alcohol and drugs – I still may – but for now, this will do.

Anyway – I gotta go brush my teeth and eat a pack of mints.

Mother of the Year?

It’s been a very busy few weeks. There’s so much stuff to catch-up on with you.

Let’s start with…Bruce Jenner. What can I say. She’s a keeper.

And there are tons of other fun TV moments. Mad Men is two shows away from ending. How will I justify my Sunday night Bourbon drinking now? And Game of Thrones. I could geek out for hours talking about that – and The Walking Dead.

I could tell you about my husband’s unnatural obsession with fixing the grass in our front yard. How he’s been a little Amityville Horror about it. Watering it. Staring at it. Loving it. Is it possible to be jealous of grass?

But there’s been sad stuff too. The earthquake in Nepal. The shootings around the country and riots that followed. All very sad.

Although I have to say something about a video that is going viral. You know the one. Mom in yellow finds out her 16-year-old son is a part of the riot and starts berating, hitting him etc. She’s being called,”The Mother of the Year”.

She’s smacking his face, swearing at him, pushing him. I know she’s mad. I know what he’s doing is utterly wrong. He’s wrong. She’s right to be mad. I get it. But I get really sad watching that video. I start thinking about all the other times he’s gotten hit, kicked, and pushed.

There’s a reason these kids are acting out. They’ve been put down, beat-up, called names, pushed around, hit, and bullied. And not just by the police.

Mother of the Year? Not so sure. Take a look.

Hotel beds

I landed in Puerto Rico last night for our week long event. As with every travel trip – I unpack, put my bags away and try and settle in for the week.
And when we aren’t working – we’re sleeping.
And because I’m a creature of habit, this is what my bed looks like all week.
I could spread out. I could sleep in the middle. But I don’t. I sleep on my side like a robot.

Thought you’d like to know!

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Happy New Year! I’m talking to you Chinese people….

I thought I’d share my favorite non-PC story involving my favorite Chinese friend in honor of today. I’m sure she won’t mind. If you are offended easily or think this is insensitive – please stop reading now. I totally understand. I once wrote a note to the New York Times condemning an Indian Cultural Day they had in Central Park called “Curry in the Park”. I was outraged that they would define all of the beauty that is the Indian culture and reduce it to a seasoning used in the food.  How dare they! They wrote back that it was, in fact, a showcase of Indian food. Oh. Anyway – I get it. Racism is terrible. But sometimes….it’s funny. On to my story.

Let me set the scene.

I worked in a very serious, very conservative private bank in New York City. This was the defining job of my career. All my biggest successes and f’ups happened here. It’s also where I learned the type of team that I wanted to be in (and lead eventually). We were hardworking, sarcastic, funny and silly. If you made a mistake in our team, you wouldn’t be walked through how to do it better – you would be teased and laughed at. There was no training or “on-boarding”. You just worked like hell to figure things out while the rest of the team rolled their eyes. It sounds rough. But it was amazing. You developed all the skills you needed to be a good planner – including the king of all skills – thick skin.

We were also quite a mixed bag. Cold, stylish leader without a heart? Check. Smart, creative Chinese gal who bordered on being mean? Check! Rich, Hermes wearing Euro daughter of a client? Put together, chic New Yorker with an accent? Check and check! And me, a married Indian gal with a baby in her late 20’s. Let’s just say we didn’t blend into a crowd.

Sorry about all the back story but you need to know this in order to really appreciate the situation. So because we dealt with billionaires and people who managed billionaires, the atmosphere in the office was always quiet and well-heeled. Except in our area. We were always laughing and shouting and eating. A mark of most good event groups. We also kept to ourselves most of the time – not that anyone was knocking down our door to be included.

Then, one fateful holiday season – it happened. Our guard was down. We were invited to join the secret Santa gift exchange on our floor. We decided to do it. We even decided to go to the party for the gift exchange. All of us. Except the head of the group who spent December in Prague or something. We were going to assimilate! At least for that hour.

We all shuffled into the conference room and pretended to be excited. One by one we opened our gifts. Oh look, the strange dude in graphics got me a cookbook. How nice. The lady in accounting got someone a candle. Charming. You get the point.

Then. Our Chinese gal opened the first of 2 gifts from her secret Santa. Hmmm. Geisha stickers. She smiled. We stared. We started to feel the corners of our mouth convulsing – we looked at the floor. We looked at the ceiling. We looked anywhere to avoid eye contact with her. We prayed the next gift wouldn’t be ethnic specific. We were wrong. She opened a box of Chinese rubber stamps. Ok – at least this was the right bucket of stereotyped gift. (You say Chinese, I say Japanese…) There was no ill intent. The person meant no harm. But we were all dying. Literally bursting at the seams laughing. We never participated in a gift exchange again. True story.

I know what you’re thinking. How awful – that person should have been reprimanded. Oh no. You didn’t go to HR for this stuff. You thanked the Gods that this happened so you could hold it over your co-worker’s head! That’s how we rolled.

For months after we talked, relived, re-enacted the moment. It was like a Christmas miracle to our team. It’s been 14 years or so since that day, and it still brings me joy.

Here’s to the year of the goat!

(Please note that the Chinese gal and I remain the closest of friends and she had to help me remember some details. I remembered the gift giver as a boy, it was a girl. I remembered 3 gifts. It was only 2. Thank god for her. Chinese people. They’re good to have around)

Sights and Sounds

I came home from my work trip and heard and saw the following:

“We think the cat peed all over the carpet, can you bend down and smell it?”

” Do we eat the leaves on top?”

“Day drinking never hurt anyone”

“So I go poop right….”

Welcome home to me. Not all pictures go with all quotes (you’re welcome).

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An open letter to the men in my life

Dear husband and child,

I am sitting on a late train home surrounded by two men. One in the seat in front of me. One in the seat behind me. The dude behind me has burped, coughed (with his mouth open, I can tell!!!) and propped his knee into the back of my seat – I know this because I feel his knee.

The guy in front of me is….letting off some gases.

There’s nowhere for me to go. No open window to jump out of. All the other seats are taken. At first I was so disgusted and grossed out, thinking that these were two of the nastiest people on earth. But I think that’s wrong. I think the truth is that they probably don’t behave like this at home. Near loved ones. They probably cover their mouths when they cough and help wounded birds on the side of the road. I’m sure when they walk in the door at home tonight, they’ll hang their coats nicely, put their shoes away and wash their hands. But here, in the world, they roam wild and free and dirty. No one knows them. There’s no wife, girlfriend or mother to scold them. Notice I don’t say boyfriend or husband because I’ve never met a sloppy gay man, maybe in the future I will, but I haven’t yet.

That got me thinking about the two of you. What are you like on a train or a bus? Do you sigh loudly? Do you wantonly take up more than your fair share of space? Do you burp, fart, cough a nasty open cough? I don’t think so. You are both clean, nice, considerate, well-mannered boys. Aren’t you???

I know you are. I have faith. But then again there’s probably some poor woman/mother walking around the world thinking she did a good job with these two walking germs. Or maybe they live in a zoo and this is the best it gets. I dunno.

So promise me that when you are sitting in your mass transit of choice, you’ll remember this and not do at least two of those gross things? Please?

Thank you,

Signed, the woman in your life who will be taking a long, hot, disinfecting shower tonight, xoxo

Perspective

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Sometimes it’s not about the dinner, it’s about the view.

I’m starting Deep Thoughts Wednesday. It’ll be a thing. I’m sure of it.

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