A few weeks ago, when I was without a stove, one of my dogs wasn’t feeling well. Normally under these circumstances, I boil some chicken breast with white rice and give it to her. This makes her feel better almost immediately. But without a stove, what was I to do.
I had to resort to the next best thing – grandma! I call my mom and asked if she would do me this big favor. She agreed immediately and expressed her concern for my dog. I told her I would bring her the chicken very shortly.
After delivering the poultry, my mom got cooking immediately. Within an hour there was a ring at the doorbell. She came bearing gifts (for my dogs, she was better than Santa!). I fed the healthy dog immediately, who was wondering if she had been punished since breakfast was so late that particular morning. I gave some to the ill dog who turned her head as if I were giving her a plate of sewer water. My mom was very distraught by this. She said ‘She really mustn’t be feeling well.’
I explained that it might take a bit before she ate since she had a tough night and morning. A little after my mom left, the dog did eat the food and she kept poking me for more. She had recovered within moments! Just goes to show you that sometimes comfort food is the best way to get better. It might not be chicken soup for the soul. But chicken and rice for the pooch was close enough.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Disturbing News
Today I learned that even after a snake is dead, it can kill you with its venom. For the love of all things, what is wrong with nature? Here I am thinking that if a snake is caput, then I am free. But no! Nature has yet another prank to play on yours truly.
This just doesn’t make sense to me. And in the same time it proves just how awful these creatures are. Sheesh!
This just doesn’t make sense to me. And in the same time it proves just how awful these creatures are. Sheesh!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
My Jewish Grandmother
Reading the title you would think that I’m Jewish but I am not. Although I have been mistaken for being Jewish all my life, I’m a Gentile. However growing up in a very Jewish neighborhood, it is hard to not know a little bit about Jewish traditions.
Part of the reason I know these things is that one of our neighbors growing up was a nice Jewish lady. She used to work in a bakery so she would always give us cakes, bread, and cookies from the bakery. My mom would cook stuff and we’d bring it over to her. She would give us Christmas gifts and my mom would give her something for Hanukkah. It was a really nice relationship, even if she would tell me I was gaining weight or that I looked tired.
In the last year she had an accident while she was outside of her apartment that really freaked her out. She had confined herself to stay inside with the help of an aide. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time until this morning.
I was getting back from running an errand and I saw her walking up the block with her aide. I was very happy to see her. We talked a bit. She asked me a bunch of questions that she knew the answer to many months ago -- she’d obviously forgotten in the time since. She asked me to give her a kiss and a hug. I told her it was great to see her. She informed me that she was going to the beauty parlor. She told me to tell my dad to stop smoking. I said I would but didn’t think much would come out of it. She said I was lovely and wished me a great holiday.
When I was younger I remembered asking my mom if she was my real grandmother. My real grandmother wasn’t that nice. My mom always chuckled probably at the silliness of the question but also for other reasons that are much clearer to me now. She told me that she could be my Jewish grandmother if it made me happy. It did and it was nice to see her today.
Part of the reason I know these things is that one of our neighbors growing up was a nice Jewish lady. She used to work in a bakery so she would always give us cakes, bread, and cookies from the bakery. My mom would cook stuff and we’d bring it over to her. She would give us Christmas gifts and my mom would give her something for Hanukkah. It was a really nice relationship, even if she would tell me I was gaining weight or that I looked tired.
In the last year she had an accident while she was outside of her apartment that really freaked her out. She had confined herself to stay inside with the help of an aide. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time until this morning.
I was getting back from running an errand and I saw her walking up the block with her aide. I was very happy to see her. We talked a bit. She asked me a bunch of questions that she knew the answer to many months ago -- she’d obviously forgotten in the time since. She asked me to give her a kiss and a hug. I told her it was great to see her. She informed me that she was going to the beauty parlor. She told me to tell my dad to stop smoking. I said I would but didn’t think much would come out of it. She said I was lovely and wished me a great holiday.
When I was younger I remembered asking my mom if she was my real grandmother. My real grandmother wasn’t that nice. My mom always chuckled probably at the silliness of the question but also for other reasons that are much clearer to me now. She told me that she could be my Jewish grandmother if it made me happy. It did and it was nice to see her today.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Voice Recognition
We recently had a problem with our stove. It would not have been an issue if next week were any other week. But to not have Thanksgiving dinner in the proper way would have been unforgivable.
We informed my dad of the stove situation and he came over to inspect. Despite all my husband had done, there was no salvaging this old clunker. My dad walked over to our sofa and said,“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”
As I handed him the phone, he started to call out a phone number. I dialed the number but the call wouldn’t go through since my number is blocked. So I decided to use my cell phone. I dialed the number and put it on speaker phone so my dad could hear it. He put the apparatus to his ear just the same.
"Hello, XXXXX Company."
“MIKE!”
“Yes, who is this?”
“GUESS!”
“Rocco? Luigi?”
“IT’S LUIGI!”
“What can I do for you,Luigi?”
“I NEED A NEW STOVE – 20 INCHES”
“I can’t hear you so well”
“I’M ON THESE SMALL PHONES THAT I HATE”
“Ok – can you repeat what you wanted because you were breaking up?”
“I NEED A NEW STOVE - 20 INCHES!”
“20 inches?”
“THAT’S RIGHT!”
“What color?”
“MIKE, YOU KNOW I ONLY ORDER THE WHITE!”
“Ok white. Anything else?”
“I NEED IT TOMORROW!”
“Ok."
“AND DON’T GIVE ME ANY TROUBLE!”
We could hear chuckling on the other line.
“Alright Luigi, see you tomorrow.”
“MIKE, THANK YOU!”
“You are welcome”
My dad proceeded to hand me the cell phone and he told me it was a piece of crap. It’s always a pleasure to do business with my dad – at least some people feel that way.
We informed my dad of the stove situation and he came over to inspect. Despite all my husband had done, there was no salvaging this old clunker. My dad walked over to our sofa and said,“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”
As I handed him the phone, he started to call out a phone number. I dialed the number but the call wouldn’t go through since my number is blocked. So I decided to use my cell phone. I dialed the number and put it on speaker phone so my dad could hear it. He put the apparatus to his ear just the same.
"Hello, XXXXX Company."
“MIKE!”
“Yes, who is this?”
“GUESS!”
“Rocco? Luigi?”
“IT’S LUIGI!”
“What can I do for you,Luigi?”
“I NEED A NEW STOVE – 20 INCHES”
“I can’t hear you so well”
“I’M ON THESE SMALL PHONES THAT I HATE”
“Ok – can you repeat what you wanted because you were breaking up?”
“I NEED A NEW STOVE - 20 INCHES!”
“20 inches?”
“THAT’S RIGHT!”
“What color?”
“MIKE, YOU KNOW I ONLY ORDER THE WHITE!”
“Ok white. Anything else?”
“I NEED IT TOMORROW!”
“Ok."
“AND DON’T GIVE ME ANY TROUBLE!”
We could hear chuckling on the other line.
“Alright Luigi, see you tomorrow.”
“MIKE, THANK YOU!”
“You are welcome”
My dad proceeded to hand me the cell phone and he told me it was a piece of crap. It’s always a pleasure to do business with my dad – at least some people feel that way.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Family Car
My dad has an obsession with big American cars. I am not sure if he loves our SUV. But growing up, he only drove station wagons.
He looked like a microscopic object in the driver’s seat when compared to the immensity of the car. If you were looking from the outside, you would think the car was driving itself. Occasionally in the days when he wore glasses, you could make out an enormous pair of dense lenses and dark frames above the steering wheel. But only if you were using binoculars.
It was a spacious car without a doubt. My two siblings and I had our own special compartments in the back seat. I loved sitting against the window. I would occasionally open the window and stick my face out to have the wind blow through my hair (or maybe I was in touch with my dog personality back then!). If I decided to read, I felt as though I had room enough to lounge and get comfortable. And the wooden paneling was super cool along the side of the car! Nothing better than that for getting people's attention!
My parents would sit in the front seat at a distance that seemed to span actual states. I think my mom liked it that way. She had her own side to do her knitting. The angle provided her with a good view of my dad – in case he started to fall asleep at the wheel.
Some times I would reach over the front seat to set the radio to real music. And I would adjust the volume so that the music would play only in the back. This didn’t last very long because my dad would eventually change it back to his 1010 WINS. And he would gripe for a few minutes before changing --- how he needed to know what the traffic conditions were, how American music was going to rot my brain, etc.
We never took cross-country car trips. We mostly went to the beach in the summer or to visit family at other times during the year. I remember thinking that we had to fill the tank almost every time we turned a corner, but I did like those cars. For all their cigarette drenched foam seats or the windows that eventually never rose to the top of the frame, it was our second home on wheels. It certainly seemed big enough to be a real home at times.
He looked like a microscopic object in the driver’s seat when compared to the immensity of the car. If you were looking from the outside, you would think the car was driving itself. Occasionally in the days when he wore glasses, you could make out an enormous pair of dense lenses and dark frames above the steering wheel. But only if you were using binoculars.
It was a spacious car without a doubt. My two siblings and I had our own special compartments in the back seat. I loved sitting against the window. I would occasionally open the window and stick my face out to have the wind blow through my hair (or maybe I was in touch with my dog personality back then!). If I decided to read, I felt as though I had room enough to lounge and get comfortable. And the wooden paneling was super cool along the side of the car! Nothing better than that for getting people's attention!
My parents would sit in the front seat at a distance that seemed to span actual states. I think my mom liked it that way. She had her own side to do her knitting. The angle provided her with a good view of my dad – in case he started to fall asleep at the wheel.
Some times I would reach over the front seat to set the radio to real music. And I would adjust the volume so that the music would play only in the back. This didn’t last very long because my dad would eventually change it back to his 1010 WINS. And he would gripe for a few minutes before changing --- how he needed to know what the traffic conditions were, how American music was going to rot my brain, etc.
We never took cross-country car trips. We mostly went to the beach in the summer or to visit family at other times during the year. I remember thinking that we had to fill the tank almost every time we turned a corner, but I did like those cars. For all their cigarette drenched foam seats or the windows that eventually never rose to the top of the frame, it was our second home on wheels. It certainly seemed big enough to be a real home at times.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Blame Game
Our last night in Dublin was one of reunions. My husband got to see a number of friends with whom he went to university. I got to meet a couple of people about whom I had heard many stories. It was nice to put the faces together with the names after all these years.
Being that we were in Ireland and they are a sprightly bunch, drinking was involved. Everyone wanted to buy everyone else drinks. And so they did. Drinks were had, songs were sung. By the end of the very long night and into the early morning, many of us couldn’t quite make it to our beds.
Later that day we had a flight to catch. While getting to the airport, my husband received a message saying that the reason everyone was more than tipsy was due to one particular individual. A few moments later, he got a text from another person and she too blamed her ‘wrecked’ state on that particular individual. We both joined the bandwagon and blamed our grogginess and lack of clarity on that same person.
I realize he wasn’t as much to blame as we were making him out to be. But it certainly was fun to collude with the rest and point fingers at the poor bloke.
Being that we were in Ireland and they are a sprightly bunch, drinking was involved. Everyone wanted to buy everyone else drinks. And so they did. Drinks were had, songs were sung. By the end of the very long night and into the early morning, many of us couldn’t quite make it to our beds.
Later that day we had a flight to catch. While getting to the airport, my husband received a message saying that the reason everyone was more than tipsy was due to one particular individual. A few moments later, he got a text from another person and she too blamed her ‘wrecked’ state on that particular individual. We both joined the bandwagon and blamed our grogginess and lack of clarity on that same person.
I realize he wasn’t as much to blame as we were making him out to be. But it certainly was fun to collude with the rest and point fingers at the poor bloke.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Phone Conversations
On a recent bus trip to visit a friend, I was appalled by the behavior of fellow travelers. The first hour and a half of the bus ride was fine because everyone was sleeping. The remaining time was not so pleasant. The very considerate rider behind me decided it was a perfect time to have an hour long phone conversation with his buddy.
I really wanted to turn around and slap the phone out of the guy’s hand. However I felt that would look worse than his being on the phone. So I tried to make the most of his noise. I tried to fall back to sleep but he kept saying stuff that was so ridiculous and infuriating that I couldn’t. I tried to read but I couldn’t concentrate on what I was reading. Why didn’t I bring my ipod??
On top of it all, he used some phrases that have always bothered me. He really should have just run his nails down a chalkboard. That’s how irritating he was.
But then I got to my destination and had a nice time. On my return trip I was plagued with yet another talker. This one was worse. She sat across and a little in front of me. She must have talked to various people through almost the whole ride. I did get some reading done but it was difficult. I felt better when I hear a lot more people sighing as she talked on the phone. I guess I wasn’t the only one being annoyed by this inconsiderate behavior.
I can seem to understand why people feel it is appropriate to have personal conversation in enclosed public spaces. Maybe if we start slapping people when they behave this way, we can all be spared the insanity.
I really wanted to turn around and slap the phone out of the guy’s hand. However I felt that would look worse than his being on the phone. So I tried to make the most of his noise. I tried to fall back to sleep but he kept saying stuff that was so ridiculous and infuriating that I couldn’t. I tried to read but I couldn’t concentrate on what I was reading. Why didn’t I bring my ipod??
On top of it all, he used some phrases that have always bothered me. He really should have just run his nails down a chalkboard. That’s how irritating he was.
But then I got to my destination and had a nice time. On my return trip I was plagued with yet another talker. This one was worse. She sat across and a little in front of me. She must have talked to various people through almost the whole ride. I did get some reading done but it was difficult. I felt better when I hear a lot more people sighing as she talked on the phone. I guess I wasn’t the only one being annoyed by this inconsiderate behavior.
I can seem to understand why people feel it is appropriate to have personal conversation in enclosed public spaces. Maybe if we start slapping people when they behave this way, we can all be spared the insanity.
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