Pre-Selfie

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I worked on a photo project last week and took out boxes and boxes of photos. 90% were of the kids. Shocker.
But then there were other photos. Blurred shots. Weird angels. Shots of someone too far away. Shots of people too close-up.
In short – imperfect pictures.
Pictures that wouldn’t stand a chance in our insta-perfect world.
Today they’d be filtered, cropped and enhanced. And if that doesn’t work – we delete! Too bad, so sad.
We delete and we miss moments like the one below.
1992. With my future husband and my future sister-in-law in her cool apartment in college in New Paltz, New York.
Who took the pic? Who knows! All I know is that she made us a beautiful post-bar hopping breakfast (balanced too – look at the OJ!) and we decided to take a picture of it. Look at my hair. Look at my husband, he looks 12. Look at all our cute sleepwear. Adorable.
Thank goodness we couldn’t enhance, filter or crop this.
It’s perfectly imperfect.

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Ottomans and Piñatas

It’s December 15th! Our holiday revelry is in full swing. That mixed in with work and school has sent me into overdrive. Just the way I like it. Someone reminded me the other day that I live for this kind of chaos. And in all honesty it’s not all chaos, it’s fun. We get to see some family and friends and I get to torture my kids by dragging them to every Christmas light display within a 30 mile radius while listening to only Christmas tunes (that’s all I play for the month of December. The CIA has nothin’ on me).

Here’s what’s been happening:

  • Thanksgiving led right into our holiday party – where we discovered just how many people the house could fit. The answer….about 10 less than we had. Oh well, it was cozy. We met some new friends and were reminded again of why we love our old friends. Because they’re cray cray. Like us. I submit as evidence a picture of a cream cheese dip snowman below. I rest my crazy case.
  • My husband’s new company is taking off – it’s thrilling to see him not only succeed, but be happy at work. What a concept!
  • Speaking of work. Tomorrow is a milestone for me – 1 year in my new gig. Time goes by fast when you’re having fun and working your ass off. Sorry I said ass.
  • We went away for our annual trip to the Poconos with family. I think we started laughing the moment we got there and did not stop all weekend. We also ate like it was our last meal at every meal. In between the laughing and eating there were activities – oh were there activities! Family Feud (we lost). You Be The Judge (we lost). Wooden Horse Racing (can you guess?). The only winner among us was my son who won a gold medal in a basketball competition (he battled both kids and adults!). The title to this post comes from two fun moments. First. They served FRITTATA’S for breakfast, not Piñatas as some at the table called them.Second. What’s the heaviest object in your home? Survey says….it’s not an ottoman honey. Don’t worry. You have other talents. Ahem.
  • The resort put on a Back to the 80’s show. Can you guess who was singing and dancing to every impersonation? MJ, The B-52’s, Duran Duran. The 80’s were my jam yo.
  • I’m almost done Christmas shopping. I should be completely done by February, the latest.
  • We are in the home stretch of holiday fun, then comes the great hibernation. This is where my family shuts the doors, the windows, the lights and locks down until Easter. Weekends are full of staying at home and not attending parties. Movies at home and boring evenings in front of a fire are the only things on the schedule.
  • Although I totally disagree with their philosophies and ideals – the Chick-fil-A chicken platter will save your life when hosting/attending/being near a party. Go get one now! Then write a stern letter denouncing their politics so you can sleep at night.

Hope you all are enjoying the festive season. Let’s do this again on the flip side ok?

(here’s some pics from the holiday haze)

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‘Tis the season

For grumpy commuters to make tourists feel like crap. Lighten up would ya?

So she didn’t run down the escalator like a lunatic even though there was plenty of time.

So she brought a complicated snack (ok meal) on the train.

So she’s carrying a big gulp from the Radio City Christmas show.

So she’s talking full volume to her equally loud friend while she knits/needles/threads a Christmas thingie.

Leave them be. Stop glaring behind and looking. Stop making Tsk Tsk noises. Go to the quiet train with your judgy judgements.

They got all gussied up and enjoyed a day in the big city. Don’t be bitter because you worked all day while they enjoyed The Rockettes. Don’t ya see the festive pin on their coats?

Go back to trolling FB. It’s ok. They won’t be on your morning train.

Bless their crafty hearts.

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Wheels down

Hello friend. It’s been a whirlwind weekend. It kicks off a few weeks of chaos and fun we have coming up. Family. Friends. Food. Fun. *burp* Repeat.
Sorry.
But we have landed back home, for now, and I wanted to share this. I may have already posted about it in the past but I’m too tired to check. So apologies it this is déjà vu!
A couple of years ago a good pal gifted me this 20 cup (yes) thermos. She knew I entertained often and could never keep a coffee pot full. She was a genius. I love this beast. I carry it around to parties. Usually I bring people chai. Not chai tea. Just chai. I’ve gone over multiple state borders with it. I’ve taken it camping. I’ve taken it to parties. I love it.
Know why I love it so much? I made chai this morning at 10am to take with me to visit family. We got back. Had dinner. I yelled at some kids, and then I decided to clean it out. It was 7:45pm. It still had a cup left. A steaming hot cup. Steaming. Hot. Just sayin’.
Ask Santa for it. Or Amazon Prime.
Here’s a pick. It’s call Zojirushi.

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Some people.

In general – I’d say about 95% of time – I run into nice people. Decent people. People who like people. Yeah there are some roadragers (is that a word?) and cranky people out there – but one on one, face to face, you usually get nice. Am I right? Am I delusional? I don’t think so. That’s why I was so shocked at a little episode we had yesterday. Let me share.

Because my husband and I are 90 and can’t stay up too late, we tend to go to a Sunday morning matinée to get our movie on. This also works because my teen and tween sleep the morning away and we make it home in time to all have an early lunch together. I love an early lunch. There are lots of other pluses to this scenario. Less crowds. Cheaper tickets. Older audiences. We love it all.

So yesterday we decided to sneak away and see Birdman. We made it there in the nick of time, got our tickets and ran to the theater. To our shock and awe – it was packed. Really packed. Friday night showing packed. My husband spotted two seats and we made our way. There were two couples separated by the open spots we wanted. We asked both couples if the seats were taken and one of them said instantly,”nope all yours.” The husband in the other couple said nothing, but the wife said,”they’re taken.” Okey dokey then. We moved on. We found seats a couple of rows behind them.

As the previews started we noticed more couples trying to find seats. They went through the same interaction with those couples as we did – and they were both turned away the same way.

The movie started. My husband leaned over and said,”there’s no one sitting in those seats. No one is coming. She lied.”

He was right. She basically just didn’t want anyone sitting there. Not a big deal right? Wrong. It takes me about two seconds to go through my emotions when this stuff happens. Disgust, anger, annoyance, and then finally, acceptance of the fact that they are not nice people. Or maybe they have some sitting-next-to-strangers disorder. Whatever. This is not the case with my husband, who is bothered to his very core, his very soul about the injustice. He grapples with their entitlement, he struggles with their complete lack of empathy for other movie goers. He’s upset. And he stays upset.

It doesn’t help that the movie is dark and sad. It doesn’t help that we have a clear sight view of this selfish couple, or that he knows the other folks turned away had to sit in the very front. Their movie going experience all but destroyed (not really).

The movie ends. He turns to me and says,” What did you think? That was great right? Oh, I’m going to say something to that couple. They should know that we know.”

In the early stages of my marriage I would have tried to talk him out of this, explained that we needed to be the bigger person etc. All that talk would have incited him even more. The other thing the talk would have done is to get him angry at me too, how could I not understand how horrible these people were? How could I not see he was right? Now, 18 years in, I say nothing. I say not one word. If he wants to say something, by all means, go for it. He is right. Some people should be called out, no matter how much of a scene it would make.

So I watched him go down the aisle, pass the couple and keep moving. When we got outside I asked him why he changed his mind, he said,” eh, some people.”

Some people indeed.

Hope you had a good weekend!

Instagram Balanced

Here’s what showed up on my Instagram feed yesterday. Same, but different.
Shaolin Monks who believe your mind
can do anything you command it to. They believe in discipline, focus and training.

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Next up: Andy Cohen from Bravo. He believes in gays, housewives and International home searches. He also believes in Mazel-of-the-weeks, Padma Laxshmi and alcohol.

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Same, but different.

Top 10 rules for 16 year old drivers that happen to be my daughter

My daughter turns 16 in a few weeks. My daughter turns 16 in a few weeks. My daugh…sorry.  I’m a little spooked. How is this possible? Wanna know something even stranger – she’ll be driving a car soon. DRIVING a car. My baby. On a road.

My husband’s been taking her for test drives, I’ve done a couple of tours with her myself – and it’s all good. She’s careful. She’s smart. She’ll be fine (but did I mention she was a baby?).  I’m coming to grips with it. Cause you know, it’s all about me.

But sometimes, I drive around try and imagine her in one of the cars on the road with me.  This freaks me out even more.  In my head she’s driving really well. Not texting. Seat belt on. Focused.  All good. But then I look at all the other drivers on the road with my daughter in her imaginary car.  I start cursing at the Blue Honda swirving in and out of lanes, and at the truck that’s going way too fast for the curvy road we’re on. I’m fuming at them for being on the same road with my imagination. By the time I get home I decide my daughter will never be let out of the house again.

And by the way, I’m the laid back parent. The go-with-the-flow parent.  If my husband and I were to make lists of the most important things my daughter needs to remember about driving, here’s what our two lists would look like. Guess which list is mine?

Photoneha*

Come on. Admit it. You check for murderers in your backseat too right? Right?

 

*I wrote half this post on my ipad and the other half on my phone. I couldn’t figure out a way to get the list from one to the other when I combined the two – and my iclouds aren’t working or something. So sorry about the weird photo/insert thingie.

 

 

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