18 years – L’Chaim!

Today, I toast my darling husband and my partner in life.

Eighteen years ago tonight we went out for Chinese and I was nervous as hell. Here was this cute guy, this INTENSE cute guy, and I was trying to tie a knot in my tongue so I didn’t froth and babble. Then, somewhere after the sweet and sour soup, I forgot to be nervous and started to really enjoy myself. After dinner, he took my hand and we walked back to his car. I think we sang at the top of our lungs for the 15 minutes or so back to my parents’ house – the Alarm, I believe – and then we watched the closing ceremonies of the Olympics, and marveled at the fact that the recently deceased Freddie Mercury had apparently been resurrected to sing at the ceremonies. I still had a nervous stomach ache, but it went away when he kissed me.

We began to forge our partnership that night, although we wouldn’t have called it anything other than an enjoyable time. At the time.

We’ve never looked back.

Okay, we’ve had our less easy times, and our all-out chaotic messes, but we’ve worked hard to keep the lines of communication open, and have done our damnedest to to keep our bond – on many levels  – healthy and strong. A marriage needs tending, regular doses of laughter and gazing stupidly at one another, and the unwavering insistence on being the best friends we can be.

We fit, and I couldn’t be happier.

Happy anniversary, my love!

Saying G’bye to my SUV

This afternoon, Bob and I brought our – my, really – big purple Buick Rendezvous back to the dealership.  My eldest, were she not away at camp, would be noticeably cranky- she doesn’t like change much, adores this car, and feels cheated that the lease ended before she starts drivers’ ed in September. We’d had the massive mauve monster for three and a half years, through many life events and adventures, and I am feeling slightly maudlin about the whole situation.

Three and half years ago, I was just finishing up the master’s degree I got in Secondary Ed, was finishing up my internship at the local high school. In this car, I went to observe teachers in several states, drove my parents, my sister, my kids and my husband and me to my graduation (it seats seven) and a few months later, drove in it to my first teaching gig, at a local community college.

Since then, this car and I have taken innumerable trip together: Chili and I have ventured several times to IKEA in nextdoor state, folding down seats and filling it to capacity; I have schlepped my kids (and their not insubstantial baggage) to and from camp 3 times; with this car I have picked up one puppy at the airport, and 2 years later, transported a (different)  sick then dying dog to and from the veterinary hospital.

Aided by my GPS, I have driven all over several New England States and two Canadian provinces, and even though the flipping suction cup rarely kept the talking guidance system affixed to my dashboard, I still got there safely. I have driven ridiculously quickly – breaking my own record of travel time to Montreal (I am pretty sure that car knows the route as well as I do) – and never once got a ticket on the way up there. Maybe the cops avoid stopping purple cars?

We have filled up the back with a wood pellet stove which we installed and now heats our home in the winter, and  several air conditioning units without which life would be stinky and unpleasant. Our loads have been seasonal We’ve driven with many crates of plants – trees, bushes, perennials, and vegetables every Spring, and picked up  pallets of wood pellets every Fall.

This past winter when my husband started his own practice, it helped us haul many boxes, and countless shopping trips worth of office necessities.

This large purple vehicle has borne sick children home from school, a small horde of teenagers to the beach, museums, and parks, and it was one of my kids’ favorite places to be. The thing drives like a couch on wheels – smooth, and comfy – and I couldn’t begin to imagine the number of naps that car has inspired and supported. My kids left their books, their crocheting, their water bottles and snacks in there and even though they were pretty good about clearing their crap from the car, going through the thing today in the driveway was a voyage of discovery; I found crochet hooks, earring backs, change, lip balms, pencils and pens, and a jar of almond butter that had rolled beneath the front seat.

In short, it’s been a dependable and comfortable friend, and we will miss it. Buick isn’t making any more of them – it’s being replaced by the Enclave, which is massive, ugly, tacky and (why no, I don’t like it) apparently designed for the over 55 set. Even if we were inclined to go for another car at the moment, Buick has nothing we are interested in. Since we drive together every day, we don’t need another vehicle for the time being, and I quite like the savings we’ll have just driving our Prius. The hybrid isn’t as fun to drive, but it certainly has better gas mileage!

So, goodbye my SUV. May you be carrying another family soon that appreciates you as much as we did.

Ten Things Tuesday: Observations

1. Here in Monroe, nothing deters the strict adherence to dress code – not even 100 degrees.

2. Eating nothing but almond butter and crackers, (organic) protein bars and juice pretty much sucks after three days.

3. Booking no breaks to accommodate 19 patients in 3.5 days (37 hours) was dumb, even if my crazy husband is strangely energized by the pace.

4. Bonding over this as a couple was expected, and is a delight anyway.

5. GPS units like TomToms cannot be trusted to direct anyone to the exact location and using it to find a restaurant last night was an exercise in farce. “Whaddya mean we’ve reached our destination??? We’re in the middle of a goddamned parking lot/field!!!” Yes, we will bloody TURN AROUND WHEN POSSIBLE! No thanks to you, Ms. nasty computer voice. SO printing out paper directions to support that thing so we actually get home tomorrow!

6. Eating a Chinese dinner picnic at 10 PM, on the floor of a hotel room using a white towel as a table cloth, with lights dimmed, is oddly romantic.

7. Seeing an Orthodox man who is clean shaven makes me startle. So does seeing an Orthodox man who is blue eyed and has blond hair.  I am adapting.

8. Walking around with a whack of cash from cash payments is disconcerting and has me imagining thugs hiding behind dumpsters.

9. Being almost hugged by an Orthodox woman who is so happy at the chance of her husband getting better and for our being there is stupidly gratifying. As is being asked to come back in October, as after the news has spread through the community, that so many still want to see my husband.

10. Sitting talking with one of the women in this community and realizing that despite our significant differences I would love to get to know her better,  that I really enjoy her wit and sweetness, her intelligence and insights, and have discovered a potential warm acquaintance (friend is not really possible), is just wonderful.

Tales from Another World, day 2

It hit 95 degrees yesterday.

If anything underscores the extreme dress codes in this community, it is the heat, and the fact that other than small children and men, no one shows elbows, never mind wears more hot weather-friendly garb. It is just not done – not in Israel among the Orthodox where it is considerably hotter, and not here.  On hot days like today, even if there weren’t school 6 days a week, kids have to stay indoors, and they have to be accustomed to being hot if they do need to be outside.

When I was putting together my wardrobe for this trip, I was careful to ensure that my clothes were respectful – I am wearing work slacks and either buttoned up button down shirts, or shells and quarter sleeve cardigans. Incidentally, as I was packing, I noticed that all the tops I was bringing were from T@arget.  Yay Targ*t.  My mother wears skirts exclusively, so she felt I should bring some and blend a little more, but frankly, I hate skirts and would feel more like an imposter if I wore something that to me is like putting on a costume.  I am just quirky, that way. But no flesh is showing even if I bend down to pick something up. My tight belt and long shirt ensures that!

The women here all wear skirts, with hose, over blouses and sweaters, and the only skin showing is on their faces and their hands. and they don’t show their hair.Each of the women I have met so far wears an elaborate scarf over their hair, although I have seen some who are clearly wearing wigs. A woman covers or shaves her hair right after she gets married – her hair and her body is for her husband and children only, so she covers it when out in public. Many of the scarves look like this, and vary wildly in pattern. Hmm, I’ve made that sound so clinical, as if I were writing a report for school on some newly discovered natives. Really, they are quite stylish, and although I would look a perfect fool in one, I find them oddly compelling.

The fourth and fifth patients of the day are here now; so far each and every woman who has come including this one, has had a baby with her, and most are on their 5th or 6th by this time.  The kids so far have more often than not been small boys, with long curls at their temples, and large black velvet kippas, and most sit idly by their fathers. So far, the only girl child I have seen has been an infant, and I am saddened by the many families that choose to bring their sons as patients, but none of their girls. One exception was last night, with Sarah who at 18 has some serious issues changing her diet and getting her on some (Kosher, vegetarian) supplements will really help.  Sarah, by the way, is the 12th of thirteen girls and 3 boys!

Children are the heart of this community, and as I have found from conversation with many of the women, so many of their grandmothers survived the Holocaust, and came out of the war with almost no family. Their mothers had many children, but this, the grandchildren’s generation, has about 10 children each.  For this reason, construction in this community is going strong, with huge, multifamily units going up all over. Imagine a building with 18 apartments in it – now imagine over 40 of those apartment buildings, with more being built all the time. the same women ruefully noted that while her grandmother had very few cousins, her children had so many they would never know them all – and I refer to the first cousins, never mind the second cousins!

This community has many schools, playgrounds and other facilities to support that many kids, and the office building in which I sit typing has therapy rooms to work with those kids born with disabilities. Two of the therapists – both women I was happy to see – came to chat with me last night, and we had a one of those satisfying conversations that consists of explaining well our perspectives, and the working toward framing and understating each other, with humor and good questions. They are part of the rich fabric of this community and I hope we will be able to help more with this community’s children in the future. We have more relationships to forge with them, and I am excited to be part of this endeavor.

Best part? I have played with5 babies so far….

Tales from Monroe – Day one

As an auspicious start to the day, the hotel’s  hot food offering in the continental breakfast was aimed only at those who enjoy ham omelets or pork sausage, and not those who prefer meat-free eggs. We don’t keep strictly Kosher, but we don’t eat pork; as we have to be going all day, a protein portion to start the day was really what we had in mind, so we dug into the many hardboiled eggs we’d brought, and topped those off with some leftover waffles from yesterday’s breakfast.

After arriving in the parking lot of the office building, nestled right in the community – right next to the synagogue, and across from many apartment buildings — we took a look at our surroundings now that we weren’t intruding on Shabbat like yesterday. As we waited for the building manager, we saw a big yellow schoolbus with Yiddish on the side pick up groups of boys for school, and other men and boys purposefully walking toward school. The school day began at 8:45 for them, and ends at 6 FIVE days a week.

Moses, the patient from tomorrow who manages this building, showed us to a room that obviously doubles as a playroom and office, with a smaller office behind doors at the back.  We moved tables, cleared away play mats, a small ball pit, many fluffy pompoms scattered around the floor, and then we set up our office. I am sitting typing at a desk in front of the doors behind which my husband is speaking to a set of parents with their 11 year old, and brand new baby.  Ten minutes ago, the baby needed to be nursed, so Miryam  left the room to feed her baby, and sat and chatted with me.

“How many children do you have?” She asked, as she settled her 5^th son, and 7^th child on her lap.

“I have two daughters.”

“Really? Just two girls? No sons?”

This is a question I really expect from every woman who asks about my children, but since the average family size around here includes at least 7 kids, I understand their perspective. Miryam asked about my life a little, and remarked how skinny I am, ( for those of you who don’t know, I am tiny, and weigh about 107 pounds). Then she mentioned how difficult it is for her body to bounce back from all her pregnancies, and that her newest at only 2 months, was not helping her take off the weight as quickly as her other children had.

She asked me how old I had been when I had my first child and when I told her I had been 28, she was surprised.  She told me that she had been married at 18 and a mother at 20. She told me that most got married at 18 in her community and when I asked how long she’d known her husband before the wedding, she told me that she hadn’t, that a matchmaker had arranged the marriage: around here AFTER the wedding is time to get to know one another.

Wow. I know that some of my own relatives were matched, ages ago in Poland, but I cannot fathom getting to know my husband AFTER I’d first had sex with him, perhaps after I was pregnant with his first child. A recent documentary had an interview with an ex-Orthodox man who described this wedding and the aftermath as “mutual rape of perfect strangers” and that’s the image I am trying to shake amongst people for whom matchmaking clearly works. I don’t know how much divorce really exists in this community, but unsubstantiated reports put the divorce rate among Orthodox at 2-5%.

Of course if true, that strongly suggests that people here accept their roles – the wives have babies and raise them, while their husbands and sons study and work. Many of the women have jobs inside the community, in family businesses, but mostly, their responsibilities are family ones.

I have several women to meet this week here and I am looking forward to gaining more insights into the community from them. The men don’t talk much, and tend to avert their eyes when they speak with me, which is so not the case with the women, who look me right in the eye and speak their minds.  These are lovely people, and I am very much enjoying myself.

Today is a 12 hour schedule, so I thank all that is holy for the internet connection I am enjoying.

Happy fourth to all of you out in a different reality!

Notes from Monroe – A different world

We left New England at about noon today and headed south and then west to the Catskills.  Guided by our TomTom, we went from highway to highway, through the Mass pike, through CT, then into NY state. We were 17 minutes away, heading from 84 to 87 when the Tom Tom hiccuped and suddenly we were an hour away headed in the wrong direction.  Of course we couldn’t pull a uturn on the highway – and we snarled at all the places we so could have – and sucked it up and got there, vowing to have written directions next time to supplement the navigation!

We had a delicious lamb dinner at the local Outback (did you know they have New Zealand racks of lamb for 20 bucks? oh my lordy yum), and then we decided to see how far we were from the office space we’d rented from one of the Orthodox patients we’ll be seeing this week.

As we drove into the community, a gross oversight on our part became very clear; Shabbos was ending, and everyone was walking back from synagogue – men in silk black suits, wearing tall fur hats walked with their wives and children – boys in small black suits, kippas, and curls, and girls in braids and long dresses – and WE were very much out of place. We should have realized it was the end of the Sabbath and not gone into their many streets, past their huge apartment complexes, their synagogue, schools, community centers nestled into the hills. We turned around and left as soon as we could, a little chagrined.

we’ve learned that there is a very marked tension between the Orthodox community and the community at large around them.  These many people like to keep to themselves, dress in a very traditional way, school their children only within the community, and speak their own language. Often their English is halting, or heavily accented, all of which is the classic fodder for misunderstandings and resentments that fester.  I don’t know how much the communities interact , and I hope to have some inkling by the time we get home.

Tomorrow morning we will head over the community again, and set up in the office space of one of the patients my husband saw in his old practice.  Many of the patients we will be seeing are close relatives, and we will start with a mother and son at 10:30 – My dh will be seeing patients and I will explaining things and setting up future appointments until just past 9 tomorrow night. Since we only had 4 days – including the 5 hours of travel back home before we get to bed to get up and work the next day – we had to book a very tight schedule, and when I say tight, I mean no breaks between patients. So, we have many hard boiled eggs, snacks, protein bars, and almond butter and crackers, and we’ll make do.

This is a learning curve for us, as we have never gone into a community before to see patients. I expect I will discover many what NOT to dos, perhaps some moments of “yay, great thinking!” for all our and our wonderful pharmacy manger’s thinking and planning (our box of supplies is most impressive), but I am certain the next time we do this, many things will be different.

I also expect to get an insight into a community that few people get to see. I know many of their voices from having spoken to them, and I know some of their stories (whose child has been sick, with what), but I don’t know them yet. A few know that I am (a very different flavor of) Jewish, but since  so many are related, I expect all the women to know by now. They may well ask me about my Jewishness, about my kids, and my background, or I may be relegated to odd stranger status and chatted with only cursorily – I don’t know.

I can’t wait to find out.

Try again tomorrow… *UPDATED*

I made ONE lousy mistake on a form.

After having been invited to visit a large group of Orthodox patients, my DH sought out official status in that great state of New York and applied and paid (dearly) for an acupuncture license. Naturopathic doctors aren’t licensed in NY, so the closest official thing is acupuncture, a degree my DH also has. I began the application process on May 15th and we lined up 19 patients – 13 new patients, and 6 patients who needed to be reexamined.

I filled out exhaustive  forms to obtain scores, request transcripts, have registrars (at TWO universities, in TWO countries) fill out ridiculous forms to state that he’s been a student there, and then… I waited. I began calling the state three weeks ago, only to be told that nothing had arrived, so I got on the phone with the registrars and found out that everything had been sent. Then I called the state again, got a different person, and was told that everything had arrived, that it needed to be processed and that I would be contacted. I waited a little longer and called back for a status update last Friday and was told that no, not everything had arrived; they were still missing the transcripts from my husband’s undergraduate degree.

WHY had they told me that everything was there? Was it so difficult to actually look??

Turns out that apart from the zipcode – which I had off by ONE FUCKING NUMBER – the address at the department of education was somehow difficult for the postal service to understand, so they didn’t deliver it.  Delightful lesson about double checking can go throttle itself…

So, first thing on Monday morning, I got on the phone with Concordia University and arranged for another transcript to be sent – this time to be Fedexed directly over to the right department. Of course the transcript printing department needed an overnight to get the transcript printed and of course it had to be couriered overnight, so the transcript only arrived on Wednesday morning. I called an hour after the tracking number told me it had been delivered, and was told to call back that afternoon. Of course when I called back that afternoon, the nice person I had been speaking with was not available, and I was told by a clearly disenchanted soul that it could take DAYS before it got out of processing, and to call back next week.

Not one to give up, I called back again this morning and this time was told that it had arrived, and that the person who was going to process the file had it on his desk. Would I call back after 1:15? Kevin would be in by then. So, I called at 1:30 and… was told that Kevin was on vacation until Tuesday. Would I call back then?

So, I called back and thought to speak with another person to ask if there was any way someone else could approve it, and was told by the clerk that it was still in an another department, but if a supervisor could sign off on it, she could maybe assign a license number.

Could I call back tomorrow?

The chances are slim that this will work out, so I am preparing myself to call and postpone 19 appointments, an office space, and a hotel room …until the end of July, when we will most likely have the acupuncture license.

I can’t stand it.

**UPDATE*** As of Friday at 2:45, we got the license. We only had to hum America the Beautiful with rocks in our mouths, while simultaneously juggling hacksaws, but whatever. Lynda over there in licensing department shepherded the application through two departments, and will soon be the recipient of a care package from me. Sometimes, after all the ridiculousness is past, people become menches (real, human) and help out. I am so grateful and now, I have to go pack.

We have 19 patients to see starting on Sunday.

And… off they go

I’m still stunned it’s June, so the fact that camp begins on Sunday is a little much for my tired brain to process.

However, one clue as to the imminence of camp is the state of the packing staging place in my home; mostly it looks as if my daughters’ room has vomited all over my living room.  Piles of clothes, baskets of things that cannot be shoved into the microns of space left over in one of their three bags – it’s glorious.

School ended on Monday, and since then they have been home unsupervised while I have been working, which on the one hand is great for them to take care of the things they know they have to. Isn’t that a wonderful theory? 

Somehow, they have procrastinated and lo! it’s Friday morning and their room is still a filthy pit, their bathroom a sad dump, and their desks about 40% clean. They ARE mostly packed, but the castoffs from the stuffing attempts still litter the living room. I went home early yesterday to wrassle them into taking care of their things and to do that last minute “Oh shit! ” shopping that we knew would be necessary. They have until 4 this afternoon to get their shit done, which they know well, so I am just going to trust

Last night, we packed up the big purple van to its limits – my kids are venturing forth to camp with the most stuff they have ever schlepped northward. Ever. I figure my contribution to the car’s load will be 3 pairs of underwear and a toothbrush, and I may need to WEAR all of the pairs at the same time as I am not sure any more will fit!

Kids get picked up to be driven to camp first thing Sunday morning, at which point we’ll point our purple Buick Rendezvous south and head back home. It will be the last great voyage for my SUV; my car comes up on lease on the 15th of July, and given that I always drive to work with Bob, we’ll not be replacing the 7-seater any time soon. We simply don’t need 2 cars over the summer, and when it comes time to pick up the girls in August, we’ll take their crap home with us in the Prius in 2 trips: we’ll pick them up on the 15th, head home, and head BACK to Montreal on the Friday for a bat mitzvah, so we can take the second load of crap with us then.

I am going to miss them a lot, even as they love camp with all their fibers. This is the last summer where Boo is a camper, and the last summer both of our girls will with us during intersession or the three days between sessions we spend at a hotel in Ottawa- next year she’ll go off to Israel for the summer with her age group ( I almost types age GROPE, which is also appropriate, no? Think on it: hordes of 16 year olds). So, there is some anticipation for the annual trip to Ottawa, but also some bittersweetness. My kids are growing up quickly and will be far more independent in the very near future. A crack in the nest?

On a completely different note, I found this ring online and I am in loooooooove. Just think, I don’t have to share this with my kids this summer!

Ten Things Tuesday UNCLEAN!(ehem)

1. Three days ago, while picking wild strawberries in a patch we transplanted to one of our garden beds, I must have rubbed my forearm against something nasty. When I welted up with small blisters, I figured I was dined on my something winged or multi legged, and did my damnedest not to scratch.

2. I showed my (naturopathic medical doctor) husband my tiny little booboo gallery, and he shrugged it off as a bite of some kind and told me to not scratch.

3. I went to work on Monday and asked people what they thought it was; most people shrugged and told me, “don’t scraAatch!”

4. Then an old friend and patient said as she was checking out after her massage, “Nice poison ivy!”

5. Really? Is THAT what this series of 4 bumps in a line is?  Not something insectoid snacking on my oh-so organic blood??

6. Never having had poison ivy before, I was a little surprised that I had it now. I mean, I have seen it, and avoided it on our property for YEARS, and now I get it? Have I become careless?

Apparently, yes, as I am afflicted with hellaciously itchy bumps on my forearm.

7. Can you say psychosomatic?   So, once this ridiculously ugly, blistery  spot collection was identified as poison ivy yesterday, one of my coworkers whipped out the rubbing alcohol and started hosing down all the surfaces my leprous limb may have touched.

8. Then she left and called minutes later to report the discovery of a tiny itchy spot on her arm! Leprosy! Unclean!

9. However, I had not scratched any of the blisters, so I could not therefore spread the joy as she had asserted I had done; I was blameless, and moreover, had my ugly blistery ivy-leprosy protected by bandaids!  As I restrained myself from scratching (see itchy, hellacious), I was delighted this morning to hear that she had not contracted the ivy leprosy that plagues me, but instead has an itty bitty scratch.

10. Now I have to hunt down and eradicate the noxious, three leafed menace that has marred my flesh…(Hmm, is it obvious I have been leafing through gothic literature?) so I can pick our strawberries. I figure I will try the weed go bye-bye spray of vinegar and salt and hot sun and see what happens.

At least I can also wipe poison ivy off of the list of things I have never done before.  If only that meant I wouldn’t have to ever deal with it again!

A Few Things: Whaddya mean it’s JUNE?

I N H A L E

1. OH my gosh did we get grubby, sweaty and accomplished what with all the hauling and planting and mulching and watering we did this past long weekend. Despite being clear on the vastly reduced time opportunities, we got all ambitious and wrestled the garden beds into submission. We now have starts and seeds of (as it spills outta my head) carrots, corn, kale, squash, broccoli,  beans, peas, lettuce, eggplant, tomatoes, watermelon, onions, leeks, cucumbers, zucchini, and I’m forgetting one…. BEETS!  If we can avoid the six weeks of rain we had last summer, perhaps we’ll get more out of the garden than slugs.

2. Tonight, Miss Boo my 9th grader, and the rest of her age school horde displayed and discussed posters of their projects on the theme of  ” The Power of One”: what change or effect one person can have to raise awareness or activism about an issue. Boo chose Child Slavery in Chocolate /Fair Trade Chocolate, to raise awareness of the thousands of children enslaved in the Ivory Coast part of Africa picking cacao beans, and the companies complicit in this travesty (ehem) such as Nestle, Cadbury, Hershey, and many, many more. She gave out samples of Green & Blacks’ Maya Gold, which is not only organic, but Fair Trade Certified. Yeah, the apple falls not far, but she’s made the old tree very proud.

3. We left work early tonight – the first time ever – to get home in time to be there for Boo, and of course bring her the samples of chocolate she made available to the milling parents and teachers in the hot, sticky multi-purpose room of the high school. This week is the second for the newest member of the team over at the most excellent naturopathic clinic, and since she’s fabulous and incredibly competent, we’re relaxed enough to leave and trust everything would be well handled. I cannot overstate what a treasure that is.

4. My Dh (that NICE Jewish doctor) has been invited to come to Monroe, NY, to set up very temporary shop (4-8th July)  so that he can see 16-20 Orthodox Jewish patients. As he has no current licensing in New York State, and he really needs to have that legal umbrella, we are in limbo until we know they have accepted his application (they cashed his $788 check  immediately, natch) for an acupuncture license in that state. It is supposed to take 4- 6 weeks, but we are given to understand that whims of officials in NY do affect the speed with which his application jumps hoops.

5. When we do go there, he will see several members of large families, while I sit and talk to people, tell them that I am also (but very differently) Jewish, and get to know them a little. This is a very, very tight knit community, which doubled its population in the last 20 years, what with all the children each couple has; the average is seven. I think this is going to be fascinating, and while I don’t speak much Yiddish (their first language), I know some, and hope to learn more. I’ll be on the phone with the office as they run the credit cards and arrange whatever supplements might be needed. Mostly, I will be taking very detailed notes for mu blog.

6. This jaunt into 19th Century Poland (how most Orthodox dress as they believe it will protect them from assimilation) will occur about a week after my kids go back for their sixth summer away at camp; they are pretty much counting hours as this point. Boo has mostly grown into her grown up body, so needs almost an entire new wardrobe (whee!), while Monkey is into Boo’s old clothes, but needs more summer stuff, too.  Their new iron labels will arrive any day now…

7. This weekend is the Bat Mitzvah of my niece, up in Montreal, and while I am looking forward to seeing my parents and my niece and nephew, I am not looking forward to getting spattered with the attendant bullshit of these large family gatherings: so and so is not speaking with whathisname, she hates her, she’s ungrateful and spoiled… blah, blah.  I figure on keeping my cool, my distance and my sanity, and enjoying myself as much as I can; I will haul out the dressy clothes, the fancy shoes , and I will mingle and hobnob jovially.  Of course only the ones who know me well will be able to tell that the smiles are just cleverly disguised grimaces…

8. This morning we got a letter into the office that begins: “Dear Sir or Madam; May I stop in to your office and introduce my elf and my work to you?”  Sure, we can introduce you to our mermaid!

9. In 5 weeks, I will be trading my 3 year old Buick SUV for a new car. We’ll most likely lease, and we’ve narrowed it down to the Hyundai Vera Cruz, or the Chevy Traverse.  Can I have the blue one?  I have been driving a Rendezvous for nearly 8 years, so this is a serious transition. That said, both these base models come with butt warmers, so everyone’s a winner!

10. Got to see Mrs. Chili yesterday for lunch and a great reminder of the joys of friendship. With work as all consuming as it is, it is difficult to get the time to just sit and talk and laugh, so that was a gift.  You! Yes, you! Go hug a friend: very therapeutic!

Have a wonderful week!