Pandemic schmandemic

When this first started it was scary and jolting and downright horror movie-like. Many things about 2020 still are. Hundreds of thousands of people dead, businesses shuttered, jobs lost, all awful. I know it’s serious. I am not making light of that at all. I know this is no joking matter…but humor is how I deal. If I’m not laughing, I’m crying. Which I think is the definition of a psycho or a clown. I’m one of those for sure. Or both.

Anyway there were/are some small, happy turn of events in all this madness. Things that were little spots of joy, and I’m not talking about sourdough starters.

1) Plans got cancelled. Really important things got cancelled like weddings and birthdays and baby showers – which is awful. But I have to be honest. I was overextended. Weekends booked for months on out, a calendar full of plans (all good stuff). It simply evaporated. Poof. Gone. Once I got over the initial sting, it was all ok. There was no FOMO (fear of missing out) because nothing was happening. We were all finally in the same boat. Home. Isolated. I know it wasn’t good for everyone. I know I was lucky to be baking and cooking and puzzling, while others struggled. I do know that. I’m just so grateful for my time. It was surreal and odd, but also kinda great.

2) Masks are fine with me. I’m gonna tell you a secret. People are fucking disgusting. They snort, they sneeze, they walk around with pneumonia with not a care in the world. People are DIRTY. They just are. I know, I know, not you! Never you! But other people. They don’t wash their hands. They don’t cover their mouths. They are walking geysers of germs. Exploding at every turn. We needed a good dose of hand sanitizer in our lives. Some more than others.

3) Outdoor restaurants with people seated 6 feet away from you. Genius! Let’s never go back! I never want to be in a packed bar or restaurant again. Ever. I want all of them to do well but I don’t want to ever feel like a sardine again. No reservation, no service? I’m in!

4) Teens and kids with minimal places to go. I don’t know about you, but my family had more family meals together in March and April then we’ve had for years! Sometimes we had MULTIPLE meals together at the table. WTF!

5) Office time productivity was always a scam. Someone put that on a pillow. We never needed to commute!! Grrrrr! All those hours on the train for what? So we could be in person for meetings that should have been emails?? Or commute in so you could sit at your desk on calls all day? As god is my witness I’m never doing that again… I mean until they make me…then of course I’ll do it again.

6) We cooked. A lot. I love to cook but this much cooking was next level. And we baked. And by “we”’I don’t mean my family. I mean me and the collective universe. We cooked and baked a lot. I think I made 1 million egg sandwiches. I also made eggplant bolognese, Thanksgiving turkey in April, cookies, cakes, and on and on. Not all of it was good, r.i.p vegetarian matzo ball soup, but most was. Just ask my pre-Covid pants.

7) Pods!! Pods!! We have a pod. A group of people who we have been lucky enough to live next to that has saved our sanity! We are safe. We don’t travel. We wear masks. It’s not perfect but it’s kept me happy. Backyard get togethers, front yard get togethers… thank goodness for these times with friends who became family.

When this comes to an end (come on vaccine!) I hope we continue some pandemic traditions. Not too many people in the store, zoom calls from near and far, free weekends, and disinfectant everywhere… that was enjoyable.

What helped you? What got you through? I’d love to know. We are almost there…

Scenes from a pandemic…

One of 8 puzzles we did March – May
Zoom, zoom, zoom
Masks on! They love it when I show people this pic
Pod!
Food for the pod !
Dessert for the pod!

PSA for freaks like me

This is a 50 cent vanilla cone from Burger King. It’s my favorite treat. I saw a toddler order it once and I’ve followed suit ever since.

I’m going to make a bold statement that literally no one but my mother agrees with – ice cream servings are too big. Yep, I said it. They’re too much. It’s like… a whole pint of ice cream swirled on top of my cone. Please. Enough.

This is not a popular opinion. I’ve told other people about this and they all give me the same response,” ummm ok…” before they hang up the phone or walk away from me.

When I discovered this cone I was elated. I think because it’s so cheap they give you a smaller, stunted cone. Truth is, I’d pay double for this perfect amount. No more leaning tower of ice cream! And, bonus, if you have lactose issues like me, no worries because a) this is probably not real ice cream anyway and b) it’s such a small amount it probably won’t bother you. How perfect is that?

I’m not sure why I’m thinking about ice cream at 7am but here we are.

We are a country of over the top everything aren’t we? You like this new home improvement show? Here’s 1,000 shows just like it. You want coffee? How big? Grande big enough? No, how about Venti, or go even bigger with Trenta. And don’t even get me started on the Big Gulp! Which is my husband’s fav btw. Who needs to be this hydrated? Know what I like? A small cup of coffee. You know what’s also good? A sliver of cake.

Bigger issues in the world I know. But someone out there must agree with me? No? I’m crazy? Ok.

Hope you all have a perfectly proportioned day.

Civil unrest? I’ve got a mask for that…

I’m not trying to make light of things. I know next week is the election. I know people are on edge and this is no joking matter. I’m with you. I get it.

I don’t know if next week will be a big nothing burger and I should make my doctor’s appointment or wait to see if riots break out. Strange times. That’s why today I’ll give you a historic lesson on voting in America…not! The only voting I can fully explain is how an American Idol is picked.

Here’s what I can do. I can make you think about frivolity for just 5 minutes. Join me in a little distraction why don’t you. A little respite from reality. Not at a Kardashian level (that was crazy, did you see it? Private island! Holograms of dead dads! Nuts).

If you are like me, you’ve done a lot of online shopping during the past few months. I’ve done more than usual. And I buy all kinds of crap. In the documentary, The Social Dilemma (did you see this? Even scarier than the Kardashians fiddling away while Rome burns). Anyway one of the creators of Instagram says that social media is now just a mall. She’s so right. It’s just so easy. And there’s been nothing to do, and nowhere to go.

One of my best qualities is that I don’t discriminate where I buy clothes from. Did you know Costco sells dresses? I do. I’ve worn one to a big meeting at work. I’ve worn Walmart pjs as a dress too (no one knew). I have no shame. Online is no different. I’ll buy from Bergdorf’s, QVC, China – I don’t care. I’ll buy it all. It’s the same with beauty products. I’ll buy almost anything from almost anywhere.

So here’s what I’ve gotten recently and my two cents on it:

I’ll start with my favorite. My son Jack gave this to me as a birthday present back in May and I used it up in just a few weeks. I’m on bottle number 3 now. It’s so so good – exfoliates, makes your skin brighter, tingles a bit and smells like pumpkin! Very on brand for this time of year. Get yourself some asap. Worth all $60.

This stuff is AMAZING. Quai pronounced KAY? QWAY? QWO? I dunno. But it’s so good. Rose hair and body oil that I also use on my face. I’m like an oil slick at night. It’s attractive. This was like $16 – and a little goes a long way. It smells lightly of rose and sinks right into your skin and hair. Heaven. If heaven was a rose oil.

This next purchase happened because I follow Goop on Instagram. The first 1,000 times they advertised it I looked away. Then I gave in and got it. It’s $55 for a big fat tub. The ads had these really crunchy women in short shorts lathering on huge amounts. They seemed really moisturized. I am still using it, but it’s just meh. Just ok. I wouldn’t spend the money. My search for a good all body moisturizer continues. I’ll keep you posted.

This. THIS. Have you used it? Do you hate it? This came from my daughter’s stash. She tried it once and had to remove it immediately. It burned too much. If you know me, you know this was music to my ears. Burned you say? Like a layer of skin off? Sign me up! And she’s right. It’s highly uncomfortable. I love it. Reviews all agree with Kera. No one likes it. I’ll definitely be buying it again. $15. Go get it. I dare you.

We were late to this game. I know many of you already knew about this but I’d never heard of Dr. Bronner’s! Holy moly it’s good. Is it scary that I can use it as a body soap and then use it to remove soap scum in the shower? Why yes it is! But as stated above, if it’s tingly…it’s for me. Buy the bottle for your reading pleasure alone. A giant bottle is $10. I’ve been using this one since May. No joke

Last but not least. These cooling water eye patches are the best. And I’ve tried many. These are the best. They cool. They calm. I love them so much I put them on to write this blog.

Happy weekend everyone. Deep breaths. xoxo

Something bad…and then something good

This past weekend my daughter went into New York City to visit a friend. On the way back, on the train, there was an incident. She texted me that the train had stopped about 50 miles from our station with no message from the conductor on what happened or how long it would be.

“Wait it out”, I said, “I’m sure you’ll be moving soon.”

An hour later she texted me, “They made us get off the train. There was a jumper.”

A jumper. I got a pit in my stomach. A jumper. I wrote back some words of encouragement and she said she’d write me with what she was planning on doing. A few minutes later she’d found someone to share an Uber with to our station.

Usually I wouldn’t think twice about this and I’d be happy she had a solve. But it’s Covid and everything is skewed in my brain. Who are they? Is it safe? Blah blah blah…. on and on and on. But I know her. She’s been so careful and she’s so smart – I told myself to back off (backing off is NOT in my DNA btw) and let her figure it out.

Another hour later she texted me her ETA and I said I’d be there to pick her up. I got there early and sat in the car. While I waited in the car I started thinking about the sad soul that died. And, as per usual, instead of thinking a happy thought or distracting myself – I went down a deep rabbit hole. It’s like my superpower.

Those of us that take mass transit often are used to the signs on the platform. They usually say something like, “You are not alone” or “If you need to talk, we are here.”

I started googling statistics and learned that more than half of train accidents involve a suicide. And that over 60% of engineers will have an incident during their careers. Heartbreaking all around.

By the time Kera got there I was totally wound up.

She texted me that she was here and that she saw my car and was headed over. I got my shit together. Put on Pop2K on the radio and opened the window to get some fresh air. My only saving grace during my sad deep dive was that I hadn’t cried. Points for that! No red eyes to cover up.

Although her catching me crying would have been nothing new. My kids and husband have both walked in on me many times in the middle of a good cry about, you name it, Syria, childhood hunger, poverty and said,”uhhhh are you ok?” What a silly question. When have I been ok??

Here’s the good part.

As she walked to the car I noticed that she wasn’t alone. There were two older ladies with her. Kera said,” Mom the two women I rode with want to meet you.”

Then these two, sweet women proceeded to tell me that they wanted, needed, to meet the mother of this wonder girl that had helped them. They were going to Philadelphia – hadn’t traveled this way before – and had no idea of what to do when the train shut down. They said there were just standing on the platform in a daze when Kera approached them. They had never Uber’d before. They didn’t know how that worked but knew instantly that they could trust this girl. They called her a blessing. Called her an answer to a prayer and many other gushy things. And I did what I think any respectable mother would do. I started sobbing uncontrollably. From the look on their faces – they weren’t expecting that.

None of what they said was a surprise and Kera was probably mortified by the scene I caused – but here’s the thing. I was in my hole of sadness and they pulled me right out. Catapulted me right out. I told them how grateful I was for their kind words and how much I had needed to hear something good and positive. We said our goodbyes and I asked Kera what their story was.

Two sisters, part of a big family from Belize. They’d just had a death in the family and were traveling from New York City to Philly to be with everyone.

I took a deep breath as we drove home.

I’m so glad for them that Kera found them. And I’m so glad for Kera that she has another story to tell from that day. The story that has some bad, but also some good.

Kera and her new pals

Intermittent slowing

I love breakfast. It’s my favorite. It’s always been my favorite. Growing up it was the only meal we had at home that resembled what other people ate…kind of. I mean my parents didn’t make coffee, they made chai, but we did have toast! It wasn’t made from soft, fluffy white bread like Wonder – we had something that was literally called Brick Oven. Brrrrrick oven. The name literally told you what it would feel like in your stomach. But at least it wasn’t Indian food. Although sometimes it was Indian food, but that’s another story.

I’m an early riser. Even in high school I woke up early. These days it’s 7am on average in Covid days because I’m not commuting. Before that, I was up at 5:30 or 6 and out the door by 7:30ish. That’s a lot of breakfast time. So much breakfast time that on some days – not always – I had two mini breakfasts before lunch. Two! And because it was mostly non-protein…even though it was simple stuff (toast, etc), it didn’t help. Help what you ask? Help my di….my die…. my diet! Phew. There I said it.

I never say that word. Shockingly I’m hardly ever on a diet. Seriously. I know I probably should be, but I’ve never been obsessed with my weight. I mean in high school I wanted to be thinner and I started walking more and lost some weight before college, which was great. My first few years of college I actually lost weight because the food was gross (this is pre-vegetarian friendly years in the country), this was also great. Plus I was in love and drinking my suppers away – it was all good.

I’ve talked about this before, food was a really important part of my childhood. What other family do you know that drove from Harrisburg, PA to Queens, New York for lunch? Ours did. We did it multiple times a year. That’s also what counted as “vacations” for us.

I was never thin. Ok maybe that’s wrong. I was thin for about a year in elementary school. I had pneumonia and an enlarged heart situation. Spent a few months in the hospital and then bedrest for another few months. I missed half a year of school. When I went back everyone was very curious and I felt famous. I’d lost a lot of weight, my hair had grown out and I was a bit yellow from an iron deficiency. Not exactly hot stuff, but I loved it. It was very dramatic and fun. By the summer it all wore off and I got back to my normal self. The life threatening illness was fun while it lasted.

My parents never talked about my weight. I never remember my mother or father ever saying anything positive or negative about it. It just was what it was. That’s not to say I didn’t try all the new fads and classes that came out. I’ve done Spin class, Zumba, SlimFast, the Beyonce cayenne cleanse, yoga, Weight Watchers, etc. I tried them all, but mostly because I was curious and I’m into new things. Did I lose weight, sure. But I never fluctuated all that much. 5 up/5 down if I was lucky. I was also never that devastated or excited by any of it.

Now, at 48, I’m not on any real medication (besides Progesterone which has changed my life, we can talk about that someday) and I haven’t had any real health issues (knock on a BIG piece of wood). I’ve never had a doctor sit me down and say,” you need to lose weight.” This could also be because I avoid doctors as much as I can but whatever.

All of this is a very long winded way of saying…I’m not that into diets. Ask my friends. I don’t really talk about it. I’m not really that interested. I know beautiful, dear people that go from one plan to another. That are in a constant state of diet. There’s always a comment about what they’re eating and how bad they are doing. It’s seems sad to me – and exhausting, but I get it. I think I’m the freak here, I get it.

At the beginning of Covid we tucked in and started doing what everyone did. We cooked. We baked. We ate. We drank. We’re still doing it. Shockingly – I didn’t gain weight. I didn’t lose weight, but there was no uptick. While I was cooking, baking and drinking I listened to podcasts. Lots and lots of podcasts. One was about Intermittent Fasting (IF). Basically reducing the amount of time in a 24 hour period that you can/should eat. It’s not about what you eat exactly – it’s focused only on when you eat.

There’s 3 big methods of IF: alternate day fasting, periodic fasting and daily time restricted fasting. The podcast I listened to was about alternate day – which is restricting calories to 500 on fasting days (every other or every two days, however you choose to do it). The health benefits are beyond just weight loss. Clearer mind, better mood, etc. It also seemed less restrictive because it doesn’t focus on what you eat, as long as you’re staying to a calorie reduction. I mean you can’t eat donuts as your only meal but it seemed doable. So I tried it. It was super duper hard. Not eating for a 24 hour period was not my thing. I only did it for a couple of days. One day fast/one day eating. It lasted only 3 days. By the 2nd day of my full fast I was done. Did I eat a vat of ice cream – no. But I needed a meal. I was light headed and not feeling great. So I was done. Back to my usual.

A few weeks later I was reading an article about another method of IF. Daily time restricted fasting – or 16:8. Don’t eat for 16 hours, eat for 8. That seemed like a small change. 7 of those non eating 16 hours would be sleeping hours. How hard could that be? Again I was curious. So about two months ago, maybe more, I started doing it. No food until noon or 1pm. Then I eat normally until 7pm or 8pm. I’m still trying not to go nuts during the day but I’m not doing any real restrictions. I have a carb. I have a glass of wine. Maybe 2. It wasn’t easy, I’m going to be honest. I like my morning time and I like my breakfast, as I’ve said. But it wasn’t that hard either.

Something started to change. Something really really slowly started to change. I lost a pound. It took me a really long time, but I lost a pound. Then I lost another. Slowly. My clothes started feeling better. No one can really tell. Then we went away for the weekend and I had a piece of coffee cake for breakfast. The next day I had another piece. But nothing happened. I came home and went right back to the 16:8. No big deal. A few days later I lost another pound.

Again – will anyone notice, probably not. It’s really a small, slow, and I do mean slow, change. But it feels good. And it doesn’t feel like a diet. More importantly I’m still doing it. The longest I’ve ever done anything else is Zumba (and I may get back to that too!).

Just sharing my very long, very slow moving journey. I’ll be hitting my goal weight (although I don’t really have one) by 2027.

The bearded lady wants to give you some advice…

I was just going to write this to my daughter, but I’ll share my thoughts broadly – you’re welcome.

Thanks to Ulta, Sephora, and YouTube stars like Jeffree Star (RIP his relationship to Nathan) – we all think we are skin/make-up experts. Believe me, I’m the leader of that group. I’m all about knowing and trying every single product that comes out. I’ve written many many blogs on my love of all things that can smooth, flatten, brighten, tighten, etc. I’m for all of it. I also love getting a good, violent facial. Scrape it, squeeze it, laser it…bring it all on. But I’m really nervous about something that’s been creeping up everywhere.

Dermaplaning. At home. With expensive or cheap tools you can buy online or at a local store near you. The benefits they tout are vast. Remove peach fuzz and have more radiant, glowing skin! Make-up goes on easier and lasts longer! Skin feels and looks smoother and softer! Sounds like a revelation. But it’s not. It’s shaving your face. Just plain old shaving your whole face. The razors look different than the ones we use on our legs, but the concept is the same.

Listen ladies, I get it. I’m hairy too. If you saw me with my natural eyebrows and upper lip, it wouldn’t be pretty. I mean I was a junior in high school before I detached my unibrow. As a mom, I was ahead of the pack letting my daughter know we could wax, shave, peel anything she wanted whenever she was ready. I think that was in 4th grade. Believe me, I get it. And, if I’m honest, I’ve had days where I didn’t have time to go get a quick wax when I reached for my razor and took care of my upper lip issues. There’s no shame in that game. You do what you need to.

But this idea of shaving your face …no no no. Just don’t do it. Remember when they told us that pencil thin eyebrows were cool? Or that fat free bread would help us lose weight? All lies. Don’t buy into it!

Your peach fuzz is fine, leave it alone. Your uni-brow and mustache are not, take care of that now. Please people. Let’s go back to our face masks and charcoal treatments and put the face razors down. I love you.

Keeping you informed…

This rice almost killed me. I almost died.

We had Indian take-out two nights ago. My favorite. Im an Indian that loves Indian food. I’m an easy profile. One of the best things about getting Indian take-out is leftovers. I’m guaranteed 3 meals from that one order. It’s very practical and frugal of me. I save tens of dollars.

Last night I was on my own for dinner and I decided to use the rice to make Lemon, peanut rice. It’s a very complicated recipe that involves frying up rice with lemon and peanuts. I usually add half a red onion and some small chili peppers too – told you I was an easy profile.

It was a busy day, and I was still working when I finished up the rice and sat down at the computer to write one last email. And then it happened. I felt it. Two kernels of rice lodged themselves in my throat. In some pipe in my throat. I could totally feel them. I could also feel myself going into a massive coughing fit. You know the kind. You can hardly breath. You’re making choking noises so convincingly that people around you are in a panic, but you can’t stop and let them know it’s fine…that you may pee your pants coughing, but it’s not going to end in death. You’re pretty sure.

Even my son took off his gaming headphones and came down to check on me. Or atleast opened his door to ask his sister if everything was ok before going back to what he was doing.

In the words of Ned Ryerson,” it was a doozy!” (name that movie). Those two kernels had their fun.

What’s the lesson here? Don’t email and eat? Stop inhaling my food? Throw food out after 2 days? I dunno. What I do know is that the rice was delicious. Worth death delicious? Nope. So did I eat the rest after my coughing fit? You bet I did.

That’s it. Just sharing. I’m alive. Xoxo

Service please! Pretty please?

Here’s an unfiltered picture of where we’ve been for a couple of days. Peaceful. Beautiful. Wide open beaches with no fighting for the best view…everyone gets a good view. We try and come to this little piece of heaven every year. It’s a fancy place but we come all unfancy. We stay with family. We avoid all the crazy crowded restaurants. We try to vacation like a local.

Except we’re not local. We know it. They know it.

A couple of years ago, my husband’s godmother took us to the most delicious little pizzeria in town. It was so unassuming and relaxed – but the food was no joke. The lines out the door proved it.

We began going every time we visited. It was always a sure thing.

You sit. You order a $20 dollar bottle of wine. If you’re my husband you order the seafood fra diavolo, and If you’re me, you get linguini with garlic and oil… because cheese is no longer my friend. And without fail… the food is good. Really good.

Is it slow? Sure. Is it the best service? No. It’s a pizzeria, we get it. I’m not looking for a concierge level experience. I’m looking for bare bones. I’m looking for some water. I’m looking to get the stuff we ordered getting to us. Maybe a quick, brief check-in to see if we need anything. Basic.

Tonight we got none of it. Nothing.

Let me back up.

Admittedly I’m a tough critic of restaurants – food and service. It’s my job. It’s what I worry about all the time. Service. Food. Experience. My husband is the opposite. By the burly looks of him you’d think he’d be the harder judge. But he’s a softie. His mom waitressed to make ends meet when he and his sister were little. He heard all the stories of crabby customers. It’s a hard job. Thankless. Under appreciated. He’s very very sensitive to that.

His idea of a tip for bad service is 18%. It’s his ultimate “gotcha”. If that man leaves you less than 20% you basically didn’t serve him at all. I’ve seen him overtip at every level. I’ve seen him go back to a restaurant where someone else has paid for our meal just to confirm the tip was good. He’s nuts! In a good way. I am mostly in agreement with this. Except when it’s bad service.

We’ve lived with this dichotomy for our entire relationship. I know he can’t take it if I ask the person waiting on us for more than 2 things,” excuse me, can I get some salt?”, “can we get some water?”. That’s it. That’s all I get. And I’m fine with that. Do I mentally make note of all the things that could have gone better? Ofcourse! Do I say anything? Almost never. Like practically never. Between my husband and my kids, the goal is always the same. Don’t make trouble. Just let it go. And I usually do. But not tonight.

Tonight was the worst service we’ve ever had. Worse than the time our waiter left his shift and never told anyone he still had a table. Worse than the time the woman waiting on us was having a full blown fight with the kitchen staff. This was… epic bad. I’m not going to go into detail. You can guess. I’m sure it’s happened to you too.

To clarify how bad it was, when I said to my husband at the end of our dinner,” wow, she’s getting zero tip. None.” I waited to hear what I thought he’d say, which is,”no freaking way”, instead he said,”yep”. I couldn’t believe it. No talk about how harsh I am. No talk about her having a bad day. Nothing. Just full agreement. She was worse than I thought.

So. For the very first time since I’ve known him – about 25 years – we left no tip. By the way, even though this was a very casual pizzeria type place, our bill was over a $100. That’s how this town rolls. And guess what? The food was worth every penny.

Even now, hours later, we are both guilt ridden. Justifying to ourselves why we left her no tip. Trying to validate our actions so we can sleep tonight. It’s no bueno.
We weren’t rude. We weren’t mean. But it still feels rotten. Have you ever done this? Please lie and tell me you have. Going to bed now. Full of regret, guilt and antacids.

You can’t always get what you want…

You know what’s funny about this picture? If you guessed me in a T-shirt…. you win. If you guessed me in a rock band T-shirt… you win even more.

In our family, I’m odd man out – and not just because I live in a house full of water signs and I’m an air sign. No. I’m the weirdo in the family that doesn’t like music. I mean I LIKE music… I don’t LOVE music. I mean I love some music…and I love to dance… and I love Beyoncé…but I could do without it. Almost all the time. I’m big on silence. Or TV. Or talk radio. Basically minimal noise that can lull you into a deep sleep at any time. Groovy right??

Let me now introduce you to my husband. This is a man who will tell you that music defined his childhood. Music was a saving grace, a passion. He vividly remembers buying his first speaker. His first cassette tape. He remembers every concert he’s ever been to. Although he forgets how I take my coffee at Dunkin, he has an encyclopedic amount of info on decades of music.

This is him… have you ever seen anyone happier to be holding a foam tongue??

Music is everywhere in our lives and in our home. We have, per capita, more speakers in our average sized home than most hotels I’ve been to.

When we get into the car his first instinct is to turn the radio on. Mine is to turn the radio down.

Its no surprise, and I’ve talked about it before, that he passed this love of music on to our kids. They all love music. They share music. They talk about music. It’s exhausting!

I mean I passed stuff onto the kids too. Jack is slightly paranoid about germs and Kera loves spicy food – so it’s not like I got nothing, but it’s not as big as this collective love they have for music. The biggest thing to happen to our family was when they switched from iTunes to Spotify. They share playlists. They Shazam new songs from each other and talk about the next live band they want to see. I’ll never forget how proud my husband was when our daughter went to her first live concert. I was worried she’d be mugged and drugged. He was worried that she’d think the band was bad. These are true stories people.

Here’s a secret….I would pay good money to never go to another concert (did I say that out loud?). Don’t tell them. They already think I’m an alien.

Ok so you get it. Back to the picture. So why is the person who cares the least about going to see The Rolling Stones the only one wearing the tee?? Why is the person who loathes wearing clothing with words wearing giant red lips?? Because I’m a good mother… that’s why!

Actually it’s because that night wasn’t about the music at all. Let’s face it – while they were listening to the songs, I was thinking about the how much the large LED screens cost and how the tech set-up could have been a teeny bit neater.

That night was the first time in months that it was the 4 of us together. Alone. Alone together. You know what I mean.

I could have cared less about what Mick sounded like (good!) or how old Keith looked (super duper old!). We tailgated. They let me take pics. We wore silly ponchos when it rained. It was the best. I’d do it again tonight. Or like next month because it was a really late night last night.

It may not have been what I wanted – but it was exactly what I needed. Rock on party people.

Rose you selfish b&t*h

Did you see this article? Finally the New York Times and the world is acknowledging something I’ve been talking about for over a decade.

I’ve been saying this since 1997. In the theater. As we’re watching the movie. I was saying this. Rose….there’s room for both of you! Make some f’ing room for Jack! But nope, she just watched him freeze to death.

Listen, back in 1997 even my husband and I could fit on that door. Now, deep in our 40s….maybe not so much. But back then we sometimes slept on a twin mattress together – on purpose.

Anyway this post isn’t really a post. I just feel so validated. So heard. Finally. This post will not go on…. get it?

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