Grew up with these excellent bags - they were our "swim club" bag. The.best.qualilty.bag.of.its.sort. LL Bean has improved the bag tremendously over the years with various sizes, a zipper top option, and different colors.
I have no clue if other people have done this, but here is how we personalized it. We brought the patches to a shoe maker. Unless you have a heavy duty sewing machine, don't kid yourself that you can take this on by yourself. The canvas is thick and if you want a good, solid job done, pay the approximate $5 per patch to have it sewn on and do it right. No, you can not rely on the iron-on stickiness on the back of the patches. Don't be cheap. Bring it to your shoemaker. And if you bring more patches, maybe you can strike a bulk deal.
It is still a work in progress, there may be more patches to come, but this is it for 2012...
Our patched up LL Bean Boat & Tote Bag. It has an outdoorsy, New York State, Canadian, heady feel. We so LOVE our bag!
From top left, clockwise: Lake Placid, NY, Appalacian Trail (The "AT"), Canadian maple leaf (with deep Canadian roots, I can legitamately state "Oh Canada, my home and native land"...BTW do yo know how long this patch has been sitting around? Likely since 2000! Time to use up the stuff lying around!), and 2012 Phamily (purchased at the recent Atlantic City Phish show, from Phanbadge...btw how thrilled was I to find this? I suggested to Brian, the purveyor of Phanbadge, that he check out this blog, since I surmised he was a family guy however just like most folks, this stuff is still quite verbose so little expectation there).
Long Lake, just one of the many stops we have made in the Adirondacks over the years, Stealie - Grateful Dead
From top left, clockwise: Bronx Zoo, our backyard playground for 5 years when we resided in the Bronx, NYS Environmental Conservation Junior Naturalist acquired when we car camped when Concealed Light was 3 and the Wolfman was 1, Swimmer vintage circa late 70s/early 80s this person definitely was a star swimmer! (I personally never got to swimmer level, only to Intermediate, don't think American Red Cross uses these designations anymore, but do you remember Beginner, Advanced Beginner, Intermediate, Swimmer, and what was next?)
Thank you for contacting L.L.Bean with the great story of your Boat and Tote bag. It brought smiles to me and my peers faces. I have forwarded you email to our Corporate Office to let them see your Boat and Tote bag.
Thank you again for contacting L.L.Bean Ms. Loonin. I am hoping someday to see an update with more patches.
But this would be a local reason*, not a national reason, as referenced in my prior post.
Because when talking about potentially having to share bike helmets in NYC's imminent bike-share program this morning, Brian Lehrer, on his morning show on WNYC, used the word yucky.
This is pretty brilliant, especially for all of my fellow 1972 babies who are 39 turning 40. Wow, half of you already turned 40. Wow. What a year, what a year.
from Nucking Futs Mama on Facebook: unclear yet as to the original creator, but she shared it so I'm sharing it here
I am loving Nucking Futs' name: It sounds a lot like the parody t-shirts I loved seeing in Dead and now Phish parking lots or even Art Spiegelman's original Wacky Packages and, later, Garbage Pail kids. Plays on words are fun. Lots and lots of fun.
Ever suspicious of my own writing, it felt pretty bad when I received negative feedback from a magazine editor on a piece I submitted recently. That feeling of inadequacy settles in pretty quick, especially since it feeds on my own insecurity. Let's face it: only my friends and family are reading this rag, and my writing is sub par!
So I turned my energy towards repurposing some gorgeous satin ribbon I bought a number of years ago. I spent about $16 on the project. Originally I used the ribbon to make a ribbon-wand that I saw in a boutique toy store. But then a kid stepped on the ribbons and it pulled off the wand. Glue guns only go so far. I saved the ribbon for about 3 years. Since I am majorly purging, the timing was right.
Now that my boys, the Wolfman and the Wolfman's brother, are ages 7 and 5 respectively, I am learning more about superheroes. You read that gender-biased statement correctly: my daughter, Concealed Light, followed my own childhood interests and expressed zero interest in any person made of steel, plastic, iron or was mutated in some bizarro chemical spill. Of course I loved the original Adam West Batman TV show, but that was mainly for the intro theme song and not the show itself (except I loved the cartoon animation in between the people actors). I fell asleep in the movie theater on one of my first dates, where I was brought to the 1989 film Batman (bad choice, you nice but geeky teenage boy! Needless to say, there wasn't a second date.).
And yet I am so excited to report that my friend Marc Tyler Nobleman just published what sounds like a fascinating story about the unknown creator of Batman: Bill Finger. Buy the book and at the very least watch this informative and entertaining video, which I am sure was not intentionally planned to be the length of 4 minutes and 20 seconds. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Marc was, from the time I have known him in high school, always an innovative creator of skits and plays, so this video is sure to be a fun watch.
Always the humorist, Marc wrote about the trailer: "warning: contains tights."
How happy did it make me to see listed among the credits of this trailer a few of Marc's high school friends with whom he is still quite close. I have long understood that my dear friend Marc and his high school buddies (with whom I also had good times during high school and college) are fantastic all-American guys. But don't go thinking they were rough-and-tumble quarterbacks and line-receivers! Most of them were and still are wholesome jokesters, although Kevin was a pretty good baseball player. They are so lucky to have each other even until today. Their ruach (positive energy) was always infectious!
Marc worked on the book for 5 years...that surely is a labor of love! I feel terribly honored to be his friend and am thrilled to blog about Bill the Boy Wonder in my teeny tiny little corner of cyberspace.
Yesterday I performed the task that many Jewish moms time immemorial have done once their daughters have gone off to camp: cleaned out the room.
And I have conflicted feelings about it.
Because I should take the advice of my own mother and sit down with her to organize together.
But I just couldn't wait until August.
I had the time yesterday, so I started seizing the moment.
Let me clarify a few things. I wrote to my daughter, Concealed Light, who is happily enjoying her 2nd year at camp for the month of July, to inform her that I would be tidying up in her room. And that was just a reminder. I told her before she left for camp that I would be cleaning up. I haven't been able to get in there in recent months even simply to dust, as she insists on leaving her play-school set up with school supplies, dolls, and various other props on the floor, thereby preventing a thorough cleaning job. I would just be moving things aside and putting like together with like to get rid of all the dust bunnies.
But one thing led to another.
Can I admit here that I was cleaning and organizing in there for 4 hours on Sunday morning?
I got so entrenched that I missed Will Shortz's puzzle on NPR.
Oy!
And I couldn't just tidy up.
I was putting so much like together with like.
I discovered things she couldn't find and could use at camp.
And then came all the scraps, a dead insect, tiny piles of dried up flowers, bits of yarn.
Time to purge some of it.
Time to scrape off the stuck-on glue stains, markers, mounting tape.
And there was so much stuff, my gut wants to convince myself that she won't notice.
Here are some things I found (and left a bunch behind):
Full box of silly bandz (isn't that fad like 2 years too late?)
Shredded tissue paper
American Girl self-help spiral notebooks and teeny tiny notes
treasure boxes filled with beads, gems, stones, craftable items
Pony beads.
scraps of fabric.
unopened birthday gifts from last summer
Mini oragami fortune tellers.
Baby clothing she took out of storage (for her dolls).
She will notice.
True to my word, though, I didn't touch the dollhouse.
And, there you have my conflict: The desire to clean up, and the desire to respect her space and retain her trust. Just when you start assuming that I violated my daughter's privacy, I must tell you that I didn't go through every drawer. I replaced personal items after dusting the area underneath them. I am not the nosy mom. I am not the controlling mom. I am not the I wanna-be-best-friends-with-my-daughter-cooler-than-my-own-mother-though-I-love-love-love-my-own-mother mom.
Again, the conflict: I sortof have some of those qualities.
I hope to remind Concealed Light that she still has tons of stuff and I was only trying to help clear some space (why hold onto sealed-shut nail polish bottles?) and she'll continually get new stuff and there is still purging that needs to happen and let's do that together when you get back from camp.
I remind myself that Other Moms do this on a continuing basis.
Concealed Light is lucky that I don't typically ransack her room.
And remember, this wasn't a ransack.
This is a delicate once-over.
A once-over that generated 5 bags of garbage and 3 bags of paper recycling.
I discovered that Concealed Light is somewhat of a hoarder, but I realize that we have only gone through her stuff together once or twice, so I can't blame her for not learning the skills. It is my job to do this type of thing with her together, and I feel bad that I haven't been able to find the time yet to do this.
Uh oh, The Wolfman's Brother came in to the room in the afternoon and said, "Mama, it looks like we are moving because there is nothing on the floor."
Yes, it is important to retain the important stuff, but to quote the song "Theme From the Bottom" which is the title of this blog post:
Toss away stuff you don't need in the end, but keep what's important and know who's your friend
Here are some other things I found and/or accomplished:
That laptop that she said wasn't working? Cable was simply unplugged from side of laptop.
100% cotton nightgown purchased in a fancy boutique store stuck under her dresser drawer, covered in dust bunnies
Shira Goodman's* school supply box, filled with useless pencil stubs about 2 inches long
nail clipper she misplaced from last year at camp: It was buried in her overstuffed LeSportsac cosmetic bag.
Goo-goned a ton of marker stains of her vintage white formica furniture (translation: my childhood handmedown) and mounting tape my husband thought would be helpful to use to mount her reading lamp
shook out the Pottery Barn braided oval rug. Discovered a lot of dirt stains.
sharpened all of her colored pencils
threw away old markers
gathered all of her temporary tatoos and Indian "bindi" facial stickers, putting them in a care package to her at camp with instructions to share with her friends at camp.
*name changed to protect privacy
I realize a difference between me and Concealed Light is that she is way more creative than I ever was, and certainly more intelligent than me. My sister, Reba, also expressed a creative streak from a young age, and her room, too, was often in disarray. My own childhood room was relatively tidy and I regularly went through my stuff. I also didn't have as much stuff as C.L. There were not Dollar Stores, Five Below or Claire's where we could get fun stuff for cheap. I treasured my Hello Kitty items, but there was no purchasing knock-offs in Chinatown, so I only had a few very prized Sanrio products. Concealed Light, however, has access to so much more stuff. She has a small library compared to her friends, but way more books than I ever owned: My mom was a staunch library patron. My sister was always making projects, as is Concealed Light, but I wasn't as much of the creative type. I treasured my rug hook set that I worked on for years, leaving it always safely at the top of my closet in its plastic Woolworth shoebox. I had only one or two sketch pads, and prized my smelly markers and Marvy markers that I received from my Manhattan cousins who lived in Lincoln Towers for years. Concealed Light is constantly making her own books, writing stories, creating doll clothes: a real independent, original, creative spirit.
I hope one day if she ever reads this blog post she will say, "Mama, I could have expressed those same thoughts in a very concise manner where your blog readers didn't actually tune out after the 2nd paragraph." Let this entry serve as a reminder that we can all learn so much from our children. I know she will be a great writer one day. She already is great at expressing herself through the written word at the young age of 8. Her stories are funny, witty, and to the point. Me? I always said that I liked doing the research and could improve upon my writing skills. I am more of the ideas person. I have a lot of ideas.
With that I leave you the title of this blog entry.
And if you are so inclined to view the video in its 7 minute entirety, fully check out this incredible light show. I was at the Atlantic City show the day after (this was a 3 day Phish festival in June). Chris Kuroda, the band's 5th honorary member and talented light engineer, as they say in Phish parlance, "killed it."
For whatever reason, I just didn't get into DMB. It's not that I didn't listen and enjoy when he played on the radio in the '90s, no, not at all. I just didn't go to any of his shows. Nothing against him or anything, just wasn't my thing. Who remembers those "white hats" that DMB fans wore?
But check out Dave who performed this past June at SPAC (Saratoga Performing Arts Center: if you haven't been there for a show, get yourself there! And in August you can go to the track!) with the fabulously talented Nigel Hall.
It's my opinion that Nigel is the real star here: he is the best voice of soul and funk out there today.
Click forward to 4:05 to see Nigel at the mic and really RAGE it out.
now *this* is a fun, chill, inexpensive phamily phun event in philly! Sadly, the Whole Phamily will be unable to attend but I encourage each.and.every.one.of.you who lives in Philadelphia and is looking for something to do in a week or so to GO GO GO!!! DJ Scribe looks fully funkadelic. Check out DJ Samson, too, cuz word on the street, yo, is that pisher can spin some mad wax!
While we currently have no plans on attending, I saw this ad in Philadelphia's The Jewish Exponent for the upcoming Jewish Heritage Night at a Phillies game which jumps on the"PH" bandwagon. I can't speak to previous years since I am a recent New York transplant, but did they market the event this way in the past?Or, did a wise person at Philadelphia Federation (ahem, Phederation) stumble upon this blog and dig my vibe? In all of my humble modesty, though, I am currently humming the words of Carly Simon to the tune of "You're So Vain."
My sister Reba calls me an internet jewish cosmic freakazoid. Would anyone else pick up on this advertising detail other than me?
pre-game phamily phestival. The Whole Phamily is happy to join you if we are invited. Partnerships are good. Laminates/guest lists/VIP treatment are even better.
I have my feelers out already with their marketing folks, so I am curious what the story is...
Meantime, check out Carly from 2 years ago.
Remastered/remixed classic song from the excellent year of 1972.
Now, that is one very fine vintage.
I speak from personal experience.
Dig the whole Morningside Heights and Columbia University vibe.
If that isn't Butler Library, I don't know what is.
And a chassid vibe, to boot!
The fever is spreading.
We just got back from our lovely July 4th celebration. They had fireworks. There were a lot of tarps and blankets. There were a lot of glowsticks for sale. Preferring to save money, the boys got to enjoy collecting them as groundscores after the event. For those of you who don't share my musical interests, you likely have not seen what is known in show-parlance as a "glowstick war." Individuals who love glowsticks will bring in huge tubes of them and gather them together to throw into the air all at once. Or get them sent to the venue for pick up inside. But we're talking big numbers here, like 400 at a time. This distribution of the glowsticks happens all at once and it is a free-for-all. Good folks doing good things for the greater community.
A few weeks ago a video was made of how they launch 2,000 glowsticks all at once. Many people and a large tarp are involved. As well as inspiring music.
Nora Ephron's loss is tremendous. Upon finding out the news just now at 11:15 pm, my husband's reaction was, "oh?!" Typical somewhat benign/bland reaction.
So, I called my mom. What else was there to do?
Screams, shrieks, and great sighs of sorrow. (And validation for my own deep pit of the heart emotion felt).
My dad, yelling from the other room, said, "Oh, did someone die?" Upon finding it it was "just" Nora Ephron, he was only blandly annoyed. Benign at best. "I wanna go to sleep."
But us women, and the men among us who have worked with her like Tom Hanks, Steve Martin and Billy Crystal, all have expressed their deep gutteral pangs of sorrow. Nora Ephron was a giant. A great of our time. She could write, sure, but she was more than just a writer. She was the voice of women, crossing generational gaps.
Is it coincidence or not that just a few weeks ago at my local JCC I picked up an original copy of her 1971 book Crazy Salad, complete with yellowed pages and falling-apart spine. I wasn't terribly impressed by the writing, her being somewhat early in her career. It wasn't as witty and sharp as I loved in Heartburn. Last week I ordered her latest book from the library I Remember Nothing, thinking I am two years behind schedule with reading one of the funniest, wittiest, smartest women of our time. I even as recently as a couple of weeks ago tweeted her sister Delia, as I have ramped up my Twitter life and searching for those folks important to me such as Nora Ephron only to find her not on Twitter, but Delia is also a great woman and tweeted me back.
Nora Ephron could write, boy could she write. Always a source of inspiration: everything is copy, she said famously. Wanting so much to emulate her style, Nora has often been a lurking existence in my brain.
May her memory be a blessing, and may we continue to use her writing as fuel for all of our inklings to be go-getters. She was one of those rare gems and will be tremendously missed.
I thank my sister Reba for reminding me about this scene, which, when I first saw it in high school in 1989 was completely mind-blowing and truth-revealing. At the time, I just wanted to be friends with my junior prom date, a nice, good guy who I simply wasn't attracted to and couldn't view as a boyfriend. I couldn't understand why the feeling wasn't mutual until I saw this scene, which explained it all.
With summer vacation in full swing, I loved hearing this 2009 remix of the Jackson 5's ABC from their Remix Suite. With the reggae beat, this got me in the happy mood for summer.
Then again, Boogie on Reggae Woman is pretty good, too.
As the mother, naturally I kvell and admit that I am biased: everything my children do is great. But trying to remove myself from the parental role, I gotta admit this is pretty good. Wacky and fun, Concealed Light has written a great poem. Way better than I ever did in 3rd grade. It was published in her school's first-ever literary publication, and while the town library judges made a grave error by not awarding her a prize for its entry in this year's poetry contest, there is more great stuff where that came from. She says she wants to be a writer. Oh, how I would love to send her to a writing workshop. One day maybe that will happen. Until then, I encourage her to keep on reading and writing.
Perhaps one of my greatest pet peeves resulting from the proliferation of technology use today via blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and the like is the misuse of the apostrophe in the word "it." A college professor told me many moons ago about a peril of email: spelling errors would will increase exponentially, and he had little tolerance for such mistakes. This is when, if we wanted to use email, we had to go to the computer cluster. There was no such thing as dorm rooms being connected to the Internet. This is also when I didn't know how to properly spell liaison. Jump forward twenty years, and autocorrect and spell check are partially to blame. Granted, people are busy and lazy and simply either don't have the time or desire to go back and make a correction.
But still.
Come on, people.
We all make spelling and grammatical errors more frequently online, and I am certainly not exempt from making this mistake.
And for that reason, I thank my brother for reminding me that the spelling of the famous cymbals is Zildjian, and not Ziljan as I previously wrote.
Let me introduce you to Led Zeppellin IV, if you haven't already been introduced. If you don't know your Zosos from your Ziljans, stick with me, keep it nice and sticky, and I can show you a thing or two.
We all know Chicago is where Obama is from, and we know here at the Whole Phamily it is important to keep a happy home as well as be mindful of mountain men who wander.
If you have seen the light of a reverberating Ziljan cymbal, you will understand why I feel that this song explains the winner of this year's Presidential Election. Question my reasoning, fine, but at least acknowledge I am onto something.
And that is the way it is for 2012.
What shall be in 2016 is the question. If you're experienced like me, you will agree that none of this and yet all of this is truth even unto its innermost parts. Meaning, how can Rachel use a classic rock tune to validate the result of the upcoming election?
I can't explain it, truthfully. Too complicated.
Be prepared, keep everything in their own pockets, have propergear, and stick together with your family, or you can stick with the Whole Phamily and see better, happier days of goodness and love and ultimate redemption.
In the meantime, you can rage with our machine of the Ganse Mishpucha (Whole Phamily).
If you want to talk Grapes of Wrath, dudes, (aka Tom Joad, the Cats, and all that Dust), perhaps you should look for purple glitter rather during this post-9/11 era than dust of the bowl (better to be two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year than a bunch of red dust flying around the air during the Great Depression). Or just watch Henry Ford playing Tom Joad. That's easier. Even if it's just a 4 minute clip. You can handle a brief clip, kids, can't you?
My take away from all of this is to grow my own food.
And that's exactly what we're starting to accomplish this year with our organic garden.
My writing skills and ability to express myself could never, ever give proper way to a discussion of Moonrise Kingdom. They say it's not good to start in the negative. So let me start over.
The newest film by Director Wes Anderson is yet again a perfect world of great design, conversation, sound, music, placement.
Just watch the trailer!
This is good. This is very, very good. I love you, Wes Anderson. Well, not really you as a person. I don't know you. But I love Wes Anderson. I love him, yes I do. But I don't know you.
I love your movies. I love them a lot. I love them like all of your disciples love them. The style. The music. The dialogue. The message. The story-line. The clothing. The imagery.
I love it/you like the way I love wide wale corduroy on men who listen to the Kinks.
And Charles and Ray Eames.
But I really love my husband who is accompanying me to Mountain Jam this weekend since I really want to go. This will be such a good thing for our whole family.
While all of my observant Jewish friends are still popping their Lactaid pills after last week's dairy-laden Shavuot holiday, I am packing for the next adventure. We reenacted going up to that humblest of mountains, Mount Sinai, where we received our holy Torah thousands of years ago. All the while eating a lot of blintzes.
The journey to another mountain continues, this time to Mountain Jam at Hunter Mountian, New York. My family which as you know include my husband Stango and our children Concealed Light, The Wolfman, and the Wolfman's Brother, has been long-looking forward to this weekend-long music festival. So much so that we temporarily suspending cleaning help to save funds for tickets.
I'll be experiencing first-hand a music festival with three children under the age of 10 in tow. We are camping on the grounds and shlepping everything up the mountain by Radio-Flyer cart. Stango and I have never camped at a music festival together, so this is all new territory. But since live music is the one thing we simply love to experience together, what could be better as a family outing? The kids want us to take them to music that we like, but the shows all run too late and aren't kid-friendly. Mountain Jam is different. Lucky for us that we also have an extended network of friends to enjoy the weekend with. The Nunever is coming, and he has graciously offered to wear my new Whole Phamily t-shirt. Delights such as Awareness Village, Karma Wash and an entire area dedicated to family activities await.
Hopefully my experience as a mama bringing her children to their first music festival will not only be recorded here. Time will only tell.
We are all scratching our heads...why are there so many more allergies among kids today than there were when we were little?
Remember when Dustin Hoffman is told, in the movie The Graduate, the one word, the future in business is PLASTICS?
Well, my dear friend, I bring you the future of today, and when it comes to food allergies, it is the one. The only:
PROTEINS
Check out self-described type-A personality, former food industry Wall Street analyst Robyn O'Brien's brilliant talk at last year's TedX Austin.
Her organization, Allergy Kids Foundation, is making great strides to help protect American families from the additives in our food supply.
Even Erin Brockovitch is cheering her on.
If it takes a polished, professional, educated, smart, savvy, communicative, organized, type-A personality woman to get the message across to our country's citizens (rather than a grassrootsy type...ahem, in the words of Miss Piggy, moÃ?), so be it.
Stango and I got to hear some music over the weekend. A local Connecticut band, the Juicy Grapes, were playing at the Acoustic Cafe in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Back in high school I didn't get out to this type of activity, so it was like I was having the night I never had in 1989. Lots of fun. In between sets my kind of music was playing on the speakers, and it was all good.
This was a set list for a different band
Love the smart logos...though the other women there didn't know about Lululemon. I guess this could be a generic omega and not a rip on the famous yoga clothing brand logo
A running music-head rabbit with a guitar.
Does this mean I can't display the cute logo from the cafe table (bunny rabbit above) on my blog?
It is so easy to forget how sweet and innocent the 4s and 5s are. Just now at drop off, I reminded my youngest, The Wolfman's Brother, to enjoy his day in preschool as a four year old. He looked at me with that creeping 5 year old just around the corner look of, "c'mon, mama, don't embarras me now." How does he know that already?
The early years slip away too fast. Like Ferris said, if we don't stop to look around every once in a while, we could miss it.
My 4 year old will soon be 5, and that babyness (yep, he is the youngest, which compounds this burst of sentimentality) is quickly melting away. It is so bittersweet. What could be better than a morning of duplos followed by starting a school garden?
There comes a time in every mom bloggers blog-of-a-life where she is granted the opportunity to bitch and moan*. In honor of my 188th post, I hereby grant you a peak at some of my current grievances. Keep in mind I haven't bitched much here at all. The whole point of the Whole Phamily is to seek out the good. But I felt it high time to let out a barbaric yawp, bloggy-style.
I think it all boils down to a few (ahem, um, I meant 20) key points, which are, in no particular order:
lack of focus.
more fun to procrastinate.
my writing sucks balls.
I go on and freakin' on. And on and on and on. Point well taken: there are too many bullet points here for any reader to follow.
Along the lines of #5, I am neither a hard worker nor come from money. I'm so screwed.
Making lemonade out of the proverbial lemon is too hard.
I have good things to say and I think no one will ever listen (aside from you, dear reader who is one of my 20 or so loyal ones).
I'd rather be dancing at a Phish show.
I'd rather be dancing at a Dead show (oh, wait, Jerry is dead). Still, no one is comping my tix or putting me on any guest lists for any shows that I know of.
I'd rather be dancing. Thank you, Capezio.
I want it now (along the lines of Veruca Salt, but I don't want to go down as a bad egg).
Still not a Skinny Bitch. You thought I wasn't a bitch? My nickname at age 6 was crab, but I hide the shell and claws well.
Still not just plain ole' skinny. Don't give me any of that "well, you don't want to be too skinny" bullshit because what I'm talking about is just being thin, not anorexic, okay? And just fitting comfortably into clothing. No, I'm not a plus size.
Everything is too itchy. I like cotton and stretch but not too much stretch because that irritates my skin. No silk. No wool. Only some synthentics. Is my best case scenario relegated to a life clad in Eileen Fisher?
As of yet, still not a fag hag. Derek Blasberg and Jonathan Adler, we can still be buddies. But since #17 and #18 exist, I doubt I fit the bill.
And yet, I have a lot to be grateful for:
Kids
Husband
Health
Parents living
College degree
Masters Degree
Not being able to outsource one of my favorite activities: sleeping
First crack at working in 8+ years.
Maybe I should actually get to work to try to make some bucks so we can rehire the cleaning help. More on my decision to temporarily let go of our cleaning help for about 3 months so we could save $ to afford Mountain Jam coming your way, soon!
More about my new venture another time...If Jamie did it in DC, then I can do it in Philadelphia!
Yep, trusty spin class keeps me honest. I actually really, really like this new tune which debuted nearly 2 months ago and has gone viral to over 30 MM (that's million, for you non Wall Street types.)
Carly Rae Jepsen, or at least her stylists, did good by me with the sweet placement of the VW Jetta.
Seems like I have a new tune I can listen to with Concealed Light and maybe be the cool mom I think I am.
God knows she is sick and tired of listening to Bob Marley, Phish and the Grateful Dead.
And you thought I didn't know my hip hop. Here, from the 1998 album Swarm, is "Never Again," performed by the Wu-Tang Killa Bees, an affiliate of Wu Tang Clan. They should be showing this video to kids in Hebrew schools. Sure beats my experience with this disturbing photos that they showed me in Hebrew day school. The pictures of course are powerful, but listening to a group rap about it at the same time brings it to another level.
Always remembering.
My thoughts in Amsterdam more than ten years ago? Anne Frank: mein shvester, mein freund.
All because a 9 year old boy took some initiative.
built a cardboard arcade.
his dad let him do what he wanted during summer vacation.
a filmmaker/creative DIY guy driving a 1996 Toyota Corolla needed a spare part drove past the arcade Caine built in his dad's auto parts shop,
I love that I am the 127th person to be "talking" about Interconnected on Facebook.
Loving that man named Nirvan who put this together has a company called Interconnected.
Caine is GOING TO COLLEGE! (well, alone, today they have raised $44,000)
A little boy with a family auto parts store in East LA now has a college fund.
In the strangest places if you look at it right. I have a touch of the blues, but when I heard Sublime's "Scarlet Begonias" this morning, my mood was lifted. I wasn't a 90s garage band fan, but when Jerry's energy comes through with this tune how can things be bad?
I'm gonna be happy with the rings on my fingers and maybe I'll put some bells on my shoes, at least figuratively. But not the rings. They are real. Love rocks are a girl's best friend, didn't you know? And I will be happy to light Shabbat candles tonight and see the light in a very cozy place: my home. With my very own daughter Concealed Light.
That was the message of Eva Sandler last week, who lost her husband and two children in a recent terrorist attack in Toulouse, France. May we only know happiness and joy going forward. The irony of this blog post is that currently I am ignoring my children while they eat their supper to watch the media coverage from last week's funeral.
May the victims' memories be a blessing.
I know it isn't the Jewish tradition to play music or give flowers when a person dies, but I still can't help but think towards CSN.
Check out this interview with Rachel Dratch and Amy Poehler based on Rachel's new autobiography. So glad I caught her in the late 90s at Upright Citizen's Brigade.
Check out this interview from a few years ago. Note: if I could have uploaded her famous Debbie Downer episode where the whole crew is at Disney and is simply laughing away, I would have. I guess folks want to protect that Intellectual Property. Is that you, Lorne? Cuz Rob Reiner has done the same thing when it comes to YouTube videos of "This is Spinal Tap", and it really does a disservice to the bourgeois of the world!
Of course, I like her because she shares the same first name as me.
And spells it the same.
Sounds pretty bezerk to me. Gila Manolson offers her opinion, more eloquently written than mine, here.
Maybe instead of undergoing surgery, they could learn fashion tips from the Hot Chani's of the world (it goes without saying that a subscription to W and V are helpful if you can get past the rampant untznius images...but a personal stylist can't hurt, either). A lot of people take offense to that term coined by Heshy Fried, but I think it's pretty funny. Doubt that Gila would like it. But I like Gila. She was a teacher of mine a long time ago, and I don't mean to offend.
Personally, I could use some fashion advice.
Even though I am out of the shidduch market, I still like to look good. And tie-dyes don't always fly.
Now, get back to cleaning!
From one queen (the Jewish woman, referenced above), to another (the witty parody of Freddy Mercury's tune, below)
Click to 23:51 on the below video or even this link for a 1994 Phish performance of Yerushalayim Shel Zahav. Phish mavens really ate up that one in the 90s whenever they played this old school Israeli song written by Naomi Shemer. Those days are over, but we can always listen and remember. And think towards what could be in the future.
Spring is in the air, and you know what that means. Weddings and engagements. Browsing for rings in Tiffany, a la Holly Golightly, is usually in order. But savvy consumers go straight to 47th street for the purchase. In my world, no matter the size of the stone you are looking for, you go to someone via referral through friends or family. Usually that someone is a man. Miss Marmelstein, why pay retail when I Can Get It For You Wholesale? Unfortunately, speaking from personal experience, the boys-club vibe that thrives among the diamond dealers isn't always welcoming to women.
Let me disclose that Limor is a family friend. Since I know her personally, I know that her professional manner is genuine. Limor's Love Rocks is a line of fine contemporary jewelry that has received great press - from People to WWD to Glamour. She uses ethically-sourced pave diamonds and embeds them in 14K gold and platinum to make earrings, bracelets, and more.
If diamonds are a girl's best friend, wouldn't you want your friend to design your jewelry?
Limor has vast experience in the diamond business. She also custom-designs diamond jewelry: no more dark-paneled offices with middle-aged men who think they know better than the little miss. Limor's understanding of style and design, coupled with her personal demeanor make you feel like you're chatting with a friend who also happens to be a diamond jewelry designer.
Recently, Limor and I worked together to customize an anniversary band. I couldn't be happier with my ring. She was so accessible during the whole process. It was lots of fun, too! Limor uses computer technology to create a rendering of the piece, so nothing is created without full satisfaction or left up to the imagination. Before she makes the jewelry, you see exactly what it will look like. How great is that!
Not a New Yorker? No need to worry. She will talk with you over the phone, email, Skype, gchat or Facebook. All packages she sends are fully insured. Best of all, she works with all budgets. Working with Limor is such a pleasure, and I urge you to give her a call if you're in the market. If it's your fiance who is taking care of things, tell him you will be happy that he called Limor.
Love Rocks NY
646.415.8770
info@loverocksny.com
And to think, I had no cultural context for "Material Girl" when it came out in 1985.
My first grader, aka The Wolfman's Brother, came home last week talking about how the boys in class have a special nickname for each other, but that it's private and he couldn't tell me more. I managed to listen carefully enough to learn that boys are called hot dogs and girls are called hamburgers. When asked the reasoning behind these nicknames, in all the sweet innocence he is, The Wolfman's Brother just said, "I don't know." Awww.
Also last week, my brother, Uncle Goalie, recommended Led Zeppelin's "Hot Dog" from In Through the Out Door as a good idea for spin class. The Goalie is right...Kashmir might not have enough BPMs. Yes, I know what BPMs are*. Do you?
Now that spring is here, it's almost summer, which means hot dog season.
Just don't eat too many.
Nitrates and nitrites are no good for any of us.
Even if it says all natural on the package, just remember they are fooling you.
*of course I didn't until it was pointed out to me! Now that I do, naturally I feel pretty ignorant since I claim to like music.
The only recording I had from Stevie Wonder was a 45 record of "Ebony and Ivory," from my cousin's bat mitzvah. It was just eh. If only I heard his 1975 funk song "Boogie On Reggae Woman," I might have seen more of this Rock-n-Roll Hall of famer's greatness earlier on in the game.
I do sometimes harbor suspicions for reasons unbeknownst to me, and all I have to say at this time is that I hope that Stevie is doing ok.
Now that you can find Bubbie's Pickles on every Whole Foods refrigerator shelf and eat at Bubbys* comfort-food restaurants in either Tribeca or Dumbo, the word bubby appears fit for mass consumption. In case you missed the memo, a bubby or bubbie is a Jewish grandmother. Today's bubby is not limited to the black orthopaedic shoe-wearing stereotype (but if she wore them, you can bet her hip would feel pretty good). In addition to making kraut and smoking meat, she can be found at the yoga studio, as a docent at the art museum, or working the counter at your local hardware store. She doesn't even have to be Jewish, and she doesn't have to be. She might have jumped onto the eco-friendly bandwagon. Meet Ruth Feldman, the Green Bubbie, for more on that.
Who of us saw the 1982 film The Electric Grandmother?
What happens when us moms get sick? Totally out of commission? Whether you work full time, part time, or fully stay home with your kids, you will need to call someone. Most of the time, you manage. But, has this stomach flu thing hit your house yet? It is really going around, and I hope for you that you don't get it. You will be wholly debilitated and need help.
If you are lucky enough to live close to family, or really good friends, you call someone. Ideally it is your own mother who will come to help out. Not all of us are fortunate to have that option. Not all of us have Maureen Stapleton in the form of the above-mentioned Electric Grandmother. And if your friends have children of their own, they aren't going to be in the house at 7:45am to help the littles with getting out the door in the morning.
The solution?
We need a National Bubbie Service! One where desparate moms can call in the troops at any time of day to take over. There isn't too much out there along these lines:
New York City has a service On Call Sitters, but we don't know if they are reliable. Bubby is reliable, doesn't need a background check, and will bring over chicken soup.
People, welcome to the '90s (this is my cultural reference to the 90s remake of Father of the Bride which is to say get with the times)! It is 2012 and there isn't much out there.
The answer for now is to stay healthy.
Wash your hands with warm water and soap.
And at least take a look at this clip where Martin Short was Academy-award worthy:
(Go to 3:40 for a reminder of where "welcome to the 90s" comes from):
Mark your calendar for 4/20. No, not for that. For something actually meaningful that will help change the lives of millions of people. And the world.
Until I saw this video, I didn't know who Joseph Kony was.
Now I do, and I urge you to watch along with the 80 million others who have viewed it this past week.
Even Stango, who said he didn't have 27 minutes to watch it, did get captivated for 12 minutes.
That says a lot.
Jason Russell's film is so well-made...he got creative and got the message across that the world's top war criminal Joseph Kony needs to be captured by the United States military this year.
It's called "Cover the Night," and it's a poster campaign on April 20, 2012.
Reminds me of "Take Back the Night," but a different issue and one that is so timely there is no time to waste.
Unfortunately it's on Shabbes, but we're still gonna do our part now.
