tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61816392011-04-21T12:47:46.833-07:00The positively thrilling adventures of a Jewish, suburban mother of two . . . now featuring extra chromosomes!Alinoreply@blogger.comBlogger601100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1149727078247887882006-06-14T17:37:00.000-07:002006-06-14T20:17:12.203-07:00

Ashlyn and her best friend Suze transferred into our high school in junior year. In a class full of longhaired, patchouli-scented hippie chicks, they immediately attracted a lot of attention for their "public school" good looks - artfully styled hair, trendy clothes, perfect makeup. They were quickly scooped up by the cool crowd, and Ashlyn soon began dating one of the cutest guys in school. Our

Alinoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1148482280287493182006-05-23T20:09:00.000-07:002006-05-26T12:15:29.076-07:00

I may look like a confident, professional, totally modern 30-something woman, but lately I have become an awkward 17-year old, bristling with defensiveness and insecurity. I'm worried that I don't have the right outfit to wear to the party, that no one will talk to me, that even if someone does talk to me I will either be paralyzed with shyness or blurt out some lame attempt at a witty response

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1147458833943788412006-05-12T10:56:00.000-07:002006-05-12T14:48:08.443-07:00

After two solid months of rain, we are finally enjoying warm, breezy summer weather. To celebrate, I put on my favorite steel drum Calypso CD while I was preparing the house for Shabbat. Okay, it isn't exactly Hava Nagila, but it definitely got everyone into the joyful spirit of things.After dinner, the kids found an old pink baby blanket that used to go in Bee's bassinet. They spread it neatly

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1126112788874580242005-09-07T10:04:00.000-07:002005-09-08T14:21:40.703-07:00

I am proud to say that I am doing my part to raise a new generation of nerds:Don't be TOO impressed, though . . . it's only a Tuesday.

Alinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1125429887268885562005-08-30T23:48:00.000-07:002005-08-31T21:04:43.143-07:00

Last week I received an email from our synagogue's educational director, asking if I was planning to sign Bug up for the Torah for Tots program again this year. It was a simple form email, probably sent to all the parents who are too disorganized to complete the required paperwork before school starts (a group I am part of more often than not). But when you have a child with special needs,

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1124238992294805982005-08-23T18:49:00.000-07:002005-09-06T22:19:42.816-07:00

Recently, in the course of my work, I was looking over a long list of consultants I needed to contact when I happened upon a name that sounded unmistakably familiar. "Oh god," I moaned. "Oh, no. I think this guy asked me out in freshman year of high school." This is one of the major drawbacks to living and working in the town where you grew up. The moment I heard his voice with his precise, oddly

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1124338547506269032005-08-17T19:52:00.000-07:002005-09-08T21:35:26.236-07:00

Growing up, I loved spending my summers at Camp Ramah in Ojai. As an adult, I can truly appreciate the value of being immersed for a whole month in such an intense Jewish setting. At the time, I wasn't too thrilled with that aspect of it - the rigorous schedule of religious services twice a day, lengthy prayers before and after meals, and mandatory Torah study classes each morning. But I am very

Alinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1123633825216992802005-08-11T15:35:00.000-07:002005-08-11T20:20:48.656-07:00

Steely Dan's songs have provided the soundtrack to my life since junior high school, when "Rikki Don't Lose That Number" and "Hey Nineteen" were in constant rotation at that pre-teen mecca, Golden Skate in San Ramon. Back then I was too young and naive to realize that the lyrics were somewhat disturbing, what with their references to illicit drug deals and sex with underage women. I just knew

Alinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1112318611718225522005-03-31T21:30:00.000-08:002005-04-02T09:02:19.040-08:00

Come gather 'round the campfire, young'uns, and listen to your old auntie Aimless tell you about a long-ago era called "the late '70s". It was a much simpler time, and compared to you kids these days, we had precious few options for entertainment. Sure we had television, unlike our poor deprived parents, but this was before the advent of something called "cable," which meant that we only had 4 or

Alinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1111195442201606042005-03-18T14:34:00.000-08:002005-03-21T21:25:53.550-08:00

Our team at work did well this year - so well, in fact, that each one of us qualified for our company's highest award, a 3-day trip at a posh resort culminating in a dinner in our honor. I was particularly excited to win because this year the event will be held at the elegant, luxurious Del Coronado , a historic beachfront hotel in San Diego that I would never be able to afford on my own. The

Alinoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1109293799868406512005-02-24T19:21:00.000-08:002005-02-25T09:07:13.353-08:00

In intermediate school I became the lucky beneficiary of my parents' friendship with a senior editor for Bantam Books. They were just launching their Sweet Dreams teen romance line and I received two new freebies in the series each month, which I snarfed up like so much low-grade crack. As a serious, lifelong bibliophile, I knew the books were unoriginal, formulaic crap whose entire plotlines,

Alinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1109017229043229992005-02-21T22:37:00.000-08:002005-02-21T15:56:26.576-08:00

If this weekend is any indication of what is ahead for Bee, I am in big trouble. It started during Shabbat dinner. As is our weekly tradition, we said the blessing over the wine and then passed around the kiddush cup for everyone to sip. My big mistake was to pass it to Bee first, expecting her to take her customary small taste, wrinkle her nose in disgust, and commence clamoring for the challah.

Alinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1108067759009806882005-02-10T23:10:00.000-08:002005-04-22T16:49:17.260-07:00

I always thought Ayelet Waldman, local author and celebrity darling, seemed like a pretty cool woman. She is married to Pulitzer prize winner Michael Chabon, of Kavalier & Clay fame, writes a fun series of mommy-themed mystery novels, has a gentle, self-deprecating sense of humor in interviews, and contributes a lot of time and money to Bay Area charities including my beloved Habitot. So it made

Alinoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1106098205815626532005-01-21T21:36:00.000-08:002005-01-23T14:51:53.776-08:00

I wasn't remotely cool enough to take part in the hip underground club scene in my youth. Thus, I never had the experience of watching in horror as my favorite obscure indie band suddenly got discovered by the mainstream, becoming that most dreaded of all things . . . popular. In fact I used to think people who groused about this were the worst sort of posers. God forbid they should sip from the

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1105475352518044142005-01-11T23:28:00.000-08:002005-01-12T10:21:10.356-08:00

After six months of struggling to get Bee enrolled in pre-school, it appears that she is now mastering the fine art of playing hooky. On her first day last Tuesday everything went smoothly, She dashed right into the classroom, so dazzled by the vast array of toys that she did not even notice when my mom slipped out the door. Although she was getting over a bad cold, and stubbornly insisted on

Alinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1105129010981421922005-01-07T23:06:00.000-08:002005-08-29T21:24:13.306-07:00

There was a 30-minute wait at the Old Spaghetti Factory last night, so we decided to kill some time at the bookstore up the street. As we walked in my gaze passed over a rumpled older man in a faded windbreaker smoking a cigarette near the doorway. For a second our eyes met. I quickly looked away and continued into the store, my heart pounding.It was my stalker.Stan and I worked together at a

Alinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1104363673759020662005-01-05T20:02:00.000-08:002005-01-05T21:39:41.216-08:00

Actually, I didn't take a vacation in the strict sense of the word, as I didn't actually go anywhere. I almost did. My parents rented a timeshare in Southern California for a week so they could visit my brother and his family, including my 5-month old nephew, and my mom initially suggested that the kids and I join them since Chef had to work all week. Soon afterwards, though, I noticed that my

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1103247174389302752004-12-20T16:54:00.000-08:002004-12-20T18:00:17.976-08:00

I saw Star Wars in the theater when it first came out. It was way back in the fourth grade, at a classmate's 9th birthday party. I'd heard about the movie all summer and had seen the characters splashed across countless t-shirts, lunchboxes and posters, so I was brimming with excitement when the time came to experience this phenomenon for myself. By the time the first ten minutes had elapsed, I

Alinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1102710395982246852004-12-10T13:05:00.000-08:002004-12-11T21:07:45.723-08:00

Last month, after we had endured 3 full months of Bug's constantly running nose and watering eyes, and were sick to death of wiping up endless amounts of snot and dragging him to the doctor every other week for recurring ear infections, it seemed like a good idea to follow the ENT's suggestion to have his adenoids removed. Yesterday, while he cheerfully bounded around the hospital waiting room

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1101932867187777602004-12-01T23:28:00.000-08:002004-12-03T14:05:13.966-08:00

Well, it finally happened. As we made our way towards the front doors of Safeway, Bug took one look at the fully costumed Salvation Army bell-ringer and happily shouted "Look mommy - it's Santa Claus!" In a way I was sort of horrified. All his young life I have immersed him in Jewish culture: JCC summer camp, Torah for Tots, Friday night services, a traditional Shabbat dinner every week, the

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1101258728498523282004-11-24T15:47:00.000-08:002004-11-25T07:57:35.193-08:00

Saturday morning I was feeling so languid and lazy that I almost skipped out on Tot Shabbat altogether. Then I remembered the damage that two cooped-up kids can wreak in a single morning, and the very thought bolted me out of bed with renewed determination. I smiled when I walked into the classroom and caught sight of Sweet Sue, who I hadn't seen in forever, but my heart sunk when I saw that she

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1100804923844756172004-11-18T22:42:00.000-08:002004-11-18T20:37:50.563-08:00

Among the many frustrations that Chelle and I have with our coworkers is their dogged resistance to trying new and unfamiliar cuisines. Here we are in the Bay Area, with amazing Thai, Indian, Japanese, Ethiopian, Afghan, and Greek restaurants right under our noses, and still these people quiver with disgust when faced with anything other than pasta, steak, or broiled fish. Over the years we have

Alinoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1100567058918585652004-11-15T16:25:00.000-08:002004-11-16T21:19:28.526-08:00

I have very little patience for snobbery in any form, having been on the receiving end of it too many times. Ex-boyfriends who gnashed their teeth over my preference for cheesy, swelling, Styx anthems over the more cerebral Pink Floyd or Frank Zappa. The friend in an elite MFA program who turned up her nose at my bookshelves full of modern literature, noting tersely the lack of obscure Chekhov

Alinoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1099973987272740732004-11-09T20:19:00.000-08:002004-11-08T20:27:08.460-08:00

May your life always be filled with this much joy.

Alinoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1099952616088234152004-11-08T18:00:00.000-08:002004-11-08T20:03:28.096-08:00

When I arrived to pick up Bug from Sunday School a few weeks ago, the students were sitting in a circle discussing the harvest festival of Sukkot. The teacher went around the group, asking all the kids to name their favorite fruit or vegetable. Here in the land of Whole Foods Organic Market, the pre-schoolers all named things like Fuji apples, Japanese pears, and heirloom tomatoes. I wasn't even

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1099427182203783182004-11-02T10:54:00.000-08:002004-11-02T17:20:15.780-08:00

Ever since the exasperating debacle of the JCC 16 - 24 month class that fell apart days before Bee was slated to begin, I have been scrambling around trying to find a preschool for her. My poor beleaguered mom could use the time off, and Bee is at the point where she will really benefit from spending time in a stimulating classroom environment with other kids. The problem is, Bee is at that

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1098836685148812952004-10-26T18:32:00.000-07:002004-10-27T15:21:16.646-07:00

Everyone in California is obsessed with real estate, and I am no exception. Before we bought our house I spent countless hours perusing Realtor.com until I had memorized the asking price, square footage, and HOA fees of just about every available place in the Concord area. When we finally moved, I figured my fixation would diminish, but I find myself drawn to the website again and again - to

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1098470852505154252004-10-22T11:05:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:18:40.566-07:00

I wasn't really in the mood to go to the first meeting of the Rabbi's Retirement Committee last night - I had to work late, I was tired, and what I wanted more than anything was to put the kids to bed, take a long hot shower, and curl up with my new library book. But in the car on the way there, I had a change of heart and actually started to like the idea of being more involved in synagogue

Alinoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1098076193700420762004-10-17T21:23:00.000-07:002005-02-20T18:07:50.543-08:00

I have been wanting to write a new blog entry for weeks now, but I have been hindered by a couple of issues. For one, I have been busy covering for our vacationing account manager, making it difficult for me to ignore my regular job duties to focus on the task of providing new reading material for my faithful readers (all three of them). But the major problem is, I have nothing to write about -

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1096654730256545242004-10-01T23:07:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:22:28.303-07:00

I officially became an old fogey today. No, it's not my birthday or anything. It's just that I took the plunge and added KABL to my radio pre-set lineup. My mornings are so pleasant now! No longer do I have to suffer through the mindless blathering and juvenile pranks of other "morning zoo" style radio shows . . . instead I groove along to the smooth, vintage song stylings of Frank Sinatra,

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1096411382261955602004-09-29T19:08:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:24:06.140-07:00

I worked at a long string of dead-end jobs after college. I didn't have much choice, living in a rural, economically depressed region at a time when the entire country was mired in a recession. I spent way too many miserable years as the assistant to the director of a social service agency, a loathesome troll who began each morning drinking a reeking cup of valerian root tea, complaining about

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1095700111469652402004-09-19T21:44:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:35:46.023-07:00

Scene I: A typical chaotic weekday evening in the Aimless household. The kids want to listen to ABBA Gold and dance around the living room, and I am attemting to grab their squrmy bodies as they dash past so I can plop them in their seats for dinner. Meanwhile, Chef is cutting the hamburger patties into bite-sized pieces with a little side of ketchup for the all-important dipping ritual. In the

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1095205745974216892004-09-14T18:18:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:39:35.716-07:00

I am about at the end of my rope with the JCC. When I first visited them in May to look at their nursery school for Bee, they reminded me about a dozen times that spaces were filling up fast and I had better enroll her right away or risk losing out. Of course enrolling her meant ponying up the $500 membership fee, which seemed a little high, but what choice did I have? I wanted to send her to a

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1094601511701059192004-09-07T18:36:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:42:01.403-07:00

We had a picnic with some friends at Larkey Park this weekend. Larkey Park is where my parents used to take us swimming, back when we lived in grey and drizzly San Francisco, in order that we might experience something resembling a summertime. When Heather Farm opened, with its Olympic-sized pool and well-appointed clubhouse, we starting going there instead, and I have many happy memories from

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1093992271501506192004-08-29T18:19:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:43:44.790-07:00

Welcome to the world, my beautiful new nephew! On the last night of my vacation, my mom called me just as we were getting out of the car to head over to the largest Farmer's Market in the state. She had heard from my brother that his wife's water broke during a doctor's appointment that day, and the baby was expected to appear any moment. As we strolled through the streets of San Luis

Alinoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1093566808963852092004-08-26T16:45:00.001-07:002004-10-26T11:46:37.503-07:00

Reading an evocative description of a Kabbalat Shabbat ritual on Zackary Sholem Berger's blog, I found myself with a sudden overwhelming desire to attend Shacharit services, something I have not done since summer camp over twenty years ago. I always loved the simple, uplifting morning service, centered on thanks and appreciation for being alive and for the honor and responsibility of being Jewish

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1088016399224664272004-06-23T11:09:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:49:21.106-07:00

Weekend Getaway I have banked so much PTO this year that, if I play my cards right, I may not have to work a 5-day week all summer long (though my boss may have something to say about that). Last week I took a few days off so Chef and I could take the kids to the Children's Discovery Museum in Sausalito, which is now featuring an elaborate Sesame Street 30th Anniversary exhibit. We could simply

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1086895792904327262004-06-10T11:49:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:50:24.776-07:00

Ever since I read this book I have been quoting it ad nauseum. I knew I would love it as soon as I read an interview with the author on Salon, so when my Bitch Magazine arrived shortly afterwards with an article on the book, I ordered a copy the very next day. In short, the book is about how the media have idealized motherhood in a way that makes the average mom among us (especially those of us

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1086306994165584222004-06-03T15:58:00.000-07:002004-10-26T11:52:09.003-07:00

I decided to start saying prayers with Bug before bed. It isn't really because of any newfound religious fervor, though I do think that it is a nice way to end the day, with a traditional blessing and good thoughts about loved ones. Rather, I am hoping the whole bedtime process will be smoother if we have a simple, consistent routine to follow. And just as Bug gets very excited whenever we say

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1086220743873040152004-06-02T14:26:00.000-07:002004-06-02T19:42:55.526-07:00

School Daze I am still having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that, come September, I will have one child in nursery school and one in kindergarten. For a while now I have been very torn about Bug's placement for next year. I always thought that when he reached school age, I would be 100% in favor of mainstreaming him completely into a regular classroom. But with the school year

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1085531516079924602004-05-25T16:56:00.000-07:002004-05-26T21:31:35.320-07:00

California Dreaming The other night Chef had a dream that he was back in Arcata, where he found himself working at Lamps by Hilliard again. In the dream, he was initially relieved to be away from his current insane stress-case of a boss, yet he soon became filled with disappointment at taking a step back in his career after all the years he has spent moving forward. I told him I have had that

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1085166688592355002004-05-21T11:01:00.000-07:002004-05-21T15:14:01.333-07:00

Nursery School Notes Our trip to the JCC went well. As soon as I walked in and put Bee down, she ran across the room and eagerly joined a little boy in stacking and knocking down colored wooden blocks. We stayed there for nearly an hour, during which she barely acknowledged me, so busy was she with flipping through dozens of board books, trying on dress-up clothes and attempting to ride the

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1084838092729732812004-05-17T16:43:00.000-07:002004-05-18T12:02:53.546-07:00

This, That, & the Other Extreme Nursing I got a free subscription to Mothering magazine awhile ago. I thought it would be a nice alternative to the glossy, ultra-consumerist rags like Parents or American Baby, with their 10-page photo spreads of Pottery Barn-perfect rooms and $90 Baby Dior swimsuits and dire warnings against co-sleeping. But my god – this magazine really puts the “dippy” in “

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1081796866536512922004-04-12T12:07:00.000-07:002004-04-12T12:18:24.030-07:00

Better Late Than Never Hmmm . . . in order to answer today’s Friday Five I must violate one of my sacred rules of blogging: NEVER write about work. Really, the only reason for this is sheer paranoia; after 6 years at my job I would hate to get fired for a completely stupid rookie mistake like blabbering about my company and coworkers on a publicly accessible website. But hey, I have nothing

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1080684831271676272004-03-29T18:13:00.000-08:002004-03-31T09:00:50.216-08:00

Torn Between Two Temples I am having a love affair with another synagogue. I feel slightly guilty - like maybe I should put more effort into working on my relationship with my own temple instead of seeking fulfillment on the other side of the tunnel. But I just can’t resist the thrill of Beth Abraham’s Rock and Roll Shabbat, with the 10-piece band, the young Rabbi full of ideas and energy,

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1080004354527416372004-03-22T17:12:00.000-08:002004-03-22T20:01:48.200-08:00

A Tale of Two Baby Namings When I was thirteen, my social revolved around the Bar/Bat Mitzvah circuit. Practically every weekend found me squirming uncomfortably in a synagogue pew, watching one of my Hebrew School classmates stumble their way through a Torah service. I was typically clad in a lacy floral number from the Gunne Sax outlet, my hair painstakingly feathered and my braces gleaming,

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1078947234318789332004-03-10T11:33:00.000-08:002004-03-11T15:52:53.250-08:00

Saturday In The Park I was at a friend’s housewarming party earlier this year when I found myself cornered by C., a woman I barely knew from synagogue. C: You know, I just dropped my sister off at the nursing home. Me: Okay. . . C: Yup, she has a pretty advanced case of Alzheimer’s now. Me: Ummmm . . . I am sorry to hear that. C: Of course, my mom raised her with no support from anyone. Me:

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1078533727864831422004-03-05T16:42:00.000-08:002004-03-08T11:31:17.140-08:00

A Trip Down Memory Lane Ahh, a Friday Five focused on nostalgic navel-gazing - now that is something I can sink my teeth into! What was... 1. ...your first grade teacher's name? She had the most colorful name of any teacher I have ever had . . . the late (I assume) Mrs. Genevieve Parrott of Commodore Sloat Elementary School. 2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon? I must have been a

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1077320853033633122004-02-20T15:47:00.000-08:002004-02-22T16:06:06.590-08:00

On Becoming a Soccer Mom So, we took the plunge and bought a minivan last week, after years of cramming both of the kids and their car seats, diaper bags, strollers and toys into my cramped sedan. The very next day Bug came home from school with a signup sheet for the local Challenger Soccer league. As I enthusiastically made plans to enroll him, I bemoaned the fact that I was on a fast track

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1076630475393726332004-02-12T18:01:00.000-08:002004-02-17T10:51:05.326-08:00

All the Good People I've Left Behind When I first met Eva she was fifteen years old, and I thought she was the most eccentric hippie I'd ever seen. She wore a metallic Harley-Davidson shirt with a skirt she sewed herself out of an old Charlie Brown bed sheet, and boasted a near-encyclopedic knowledge of art, beat poetry, and 1960’s music. We met on a road trip to Los Angeles with our youth

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1076093733583841502004-02-06T10:55:00.000-08:002004-02-06T14:13:59.860-08:00

In Which Manny Throws Me a Bone When I started this blog, I reveled in the sheer anonymity of it. Only two people knew of its existence, and those two friends are so sweet and non-judgmental that I never had to worry about censoring myself or sounding self-indulgent and whiny. It felt good to start writing again after all these years; it was therapeutic to put my thoughts in order, editing and

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1074898106122706172004-01-23T14:48:00.000-08:002004-01-23T17:31:54.640-08:00

My First Friday Five! Shout out to Gwen for turning me on to this wonderful new source of filler for my blog! And a special message to Michelle - see, here is a nice innocuous entry for your blog that people will not be compelled to comment upon. Now here goes: At this moment, what is your favorite... 1. ...song? I have loved “A Case of You” since I heard it performed live by Diana Krall on

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1074799658202829622004-01-21T23:27:00.000-08:002004-02-06T09:47:53.936-08:00

The View From Holland I think every parent of a special needs child asks themselves the same question from time to time. If there were a magic pill that could make my child's condition disappear, would I jump at the chance? It is, of course, a completely academic question - and a loaded one at that. We'd all like to believe that we accept our children exactly the way they are, yet who in

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1073939120694387142004-01-12T12:25:00.000-08:002004-01-12T15:34:06.473-08:00

To Whom It May Concern Dear Mrs. Guitar, Bug's favorite part of Sunday School happens at 10:00 AM, when you show up for a 20-minute music class. He is fascinated by your smooth, polished instrument with the shiny strings and colorful strap, and he loves to sing and dance to the upbeat Hebrew melodies. Yesterday you began your lesson with a simple introductory song, asking each child his

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1073334256973195512004-01-05T12:24:00.000-08:002004-01-07T12:03:51.290-08:00

Right Back Where I Started From In my early twenties I lived a happy, carefree existence among the redwoods in Humboldt County. I wore long hair and faded blue jeans, showed up to work when I wanted, and spent my weekends lazing at the river or curled up in a corner of the rambling used bookstore. Each time I made the long trip back to visit my parents, I passed the squat concrete buildings

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1072834443778704692004-01-03T10:34:00.000-08:002004-01-04T11:07:13.306-08:00

Happy Birthday Baby Bee I was bone-tired, sore, and woozy with Vicodin, but I have never experienced a more pure joy than I did the night Bee was born. All my visitors had gone, including my husband - after I reassured him I would *not* be offended if he chose to sleep in a comfortable bed at home rather than squeeze his six foot five body into the hospital's dinky easy chair. The lights were

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1071519077458197082003-12-14T12:11:00.000-08:002005-02-18T11:52:35.406-08:00

It is a generally accepted fact among my friends that I am a certified nerd. I follow the National Scrabble Championship with the intensity most people reserve for the World Series. I have no clue who is playing in the Super Bowl next month; in fact the only reason I am even aware that this is football season is because the games pre-empt my nightly Jeopardy ritual on Mondays, which annoys me no

Alinoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1071106661969489992003-12-10T20:08:00.000-08:002004-01-24T07:52:01.043-08:00

Jealousy Is Not Pretty To the casual observer, I was happily sipping Merlot and enjoying my rosemary-scented chicken, but on the inside I was in turmoil. Like a possesive girlfriend, I blanched each time I glanced at the podium and saw Ann Packer huddling close to Daniel Handler, their foreheads almost touching as they chatted companionably. In my fantasy I would be up there too, just flowing

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1071082029009355492003-12-10T10:47:00.000-08:002003-12-10T11:00:11.100-08:00

Swimming In the Mainstream I soooo wanted to play hooky from Sunday School last week. I was exhausted by the very thought of getting the kids and myself up, dressed and fed, clearing a pathway through the house for the babysitter, gulping down a few swigs of coffee, and rushing to get to synagogue by 9:00 to spend a few hours surrounded by toddlers. Every fiber of my being was screaming for me

Alinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6181639.post-1070912754264392872003-12-08T11:45:00.000-08:002003-12-08T12:25:47.560-08:00

Blog Pollution I always swore I would never never keep a blog because my thoughts, philosophies and my life in general are so boring that no one in their right mind would ever want to read them. And I hope I'm right - that way, I can write about anyone and anything I want, secure in the knowledge that nobody is reading this anyway. Plus, now that I have surfed each and every page of the

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