songbird's crazy world

3 weeks.  3 short weeks. Jen will graduate from college in 3 short weeks. She did the paperwork months ago, she's got her cap and gown.  She is two term papers and two final exams away from completing her college career. Seems like it was only yesterday she was a baby in my arms.  And now she's all grown up.  When you hold your baby in your arms, you wonder what she'll be like as an adult.  Will she share your hopes and dreams for her or will she follow her own path? With Jen, it was a bit of both.  And when I look at her, when I listen to her speak, I am so proud.

Anna Brones: 10 Ways to Pretend You're a Foodie

In what has become the pattern to our Saturday nights, we went out to eat this evening, then wound up at Drew's house to watch a movie on TV. Dinner tonight was at La Casa Latina. Place got good write ups in Newsday and the Times, so when we snagged a Groupon we had to try it. I love Latin American food, liked it even before our cruise 2 years ago -- we made port in Belize, Roatan and Cozumel, and were fed a ton of rice and beans in each port. Our meal tonight began with delicate fish tacos, followed by pupusas with salsa and a vinegary slaw. Salad was fresh and crisp. I ordered the Honduran platter -- shell steak, rice, beans and a plantain accompanied by something called crema - sort of like sour cream but with a vinegar undertone. It also came with a fried egg, which I gave to Drew. It was supposed to come with avocado, but they forgot to give it to me and I never missed it. Drew ordered the Parrillada Mixta

When I was in high school (way way back in the 70's) I took a class called Film and Filmmaking.  The class was developed by one of my favorite teachers, Mr. A, as an alternative for seniors who didn't want to take a more traditional literature class (and it also kept the AV Squad nerds busy). I was an English nerd, and took the class IN ADDITION TO my regular English class - I was in Ms. G's section of Film and in AP English with Mr. A.   I remember when Mr. A's children bought him an uber-expensive Betamax (remember those?) so that he wouldn't have to set up his projector every time he wanted to watch a movie at home. We saw many movies over the course of the year -- Shane; Citizen Kane; Singin' In The Rain. But one of my absolute favorites was Casablanca.   Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Heinreid, Claude Rains, Peter Lorre, and Sidney Greenstreet in a fez.  WWII storyline, filmed in black and white.  Exotic locale -- Morocco.  What a glorious movie!

Last week in the hospital I heard a patient in another room coughing so hard I would have sworn he or she was coughing up a lung.  I thought "I hope I don't catch something!" Sure enough . . .I have a cold.  A lousy, miserable cold.  Now, when I am seriously ill, I am so busy fighting whatever it is that I forget to be miserable.  A life-threatening illness?  A condition requiring surgery?  I put on a positive attitude, bond with my caregivers and do battle with whatever it is that's ailing me. But a cold is different.  Everyone gets colds, and we all suffer through them, so no one is inclined to offer much more than a Kleenex and token sympathy. When I get a cold, my ears become my vulnerability. About 8 years ago I had a spring cold that blossomed into sinusitis.  I was so congested that I felt like my head was wrapped in cotton.  Still, I muddled through, living on tea and Sudafed, until I realized I was no longer able to hear anything with my right ear.  That

So the last two weeks have not exactly gone as planned. Five days in the hospital, missing the Moody Blues concert and that expensive car repair followed by the rained-out ballgame . . . So it's Monday morning.  Still cold and rainy.When I checked on the status before I left the house, the railroad was running on or close to schedule.  In the 10 minutes it took to drive to the station, the entire branch had meltdown.  20+ minute delays.  At least it's running, right?

So we got up this morning and immediately began to check weatherbug and mets.com for a status. Frankly I was a bit surprised that Drew didn't just say "forget the game" because of the miserable time we had at Jones Beach last summer (I'm surprised he didn't freak when I bought Jimmy Buffett tickets for this August, after all the complaining he did that night!). It was drizzling when Drew, Marc and I headed out to Citi Field. The rain got heavier when we got into Queens. We decided we'd park the car, collect our Tom Seaver bobbleheads, have some lunch and see how things went. Last summer, when Drew and I were at a ball game, we found a hot dog stand that cooks them in beer. I had never eaten a hot dog prepared that way, but Drew has fond memories of a restaurant called Zum Zum's, which prepared them that way. So we got to Flushing Meadow, and I could practically taste the hot dog . . .and the parking lot gates

We had planned to go elsewhere tonight, but due to my afternoon in the tire store our evening had to be rearranged. Boulder Creek is one of our favorite chains. The ambiance is 19th century Colorado mining town. The lobby contains a huge fireplace (inactive on this warm spring night), as if you were in some mountain lodge. At dinnertime the wait for a table can be substantial, but at 8 pm we were seated immediately. Tonight we started with an onion bloom -- a whole onion batter dipped and deep fried, and served with a creamy yet zingy dipping sauce. I like this presentation better than onion rings. One bloom can easily be shared by a small group of people. We brought more than half of it home. Steaks come with your choice of two "sides" -- keep in mind that soup and salad are considered "sides". Tonight we each chose the house salad, which is primarily iceburg lettuce with a few pieces of cucumber and some grape tomatoes. Not

So ok, I drive an old car.  95 Toyota Corolla. Sandpebble beige. Bought it new in May 1995.  It's got 162,000 miles on it, give or take.  First time I ever bought myself a brand new car. I love this car.  My daughters spent their childhood being transported in this car. So Saturday morning I noticed that the driver's side front tire was low.  Very low.  Took the car to the discount tire store to check things out. Well, it turns out I had 3 very old tires on the car -- replaced one tire about a year ago when I hit a nail, but I can't even remember the last time I bought tires. And then the mechanic showed me the struts. Can you believe they were original equipment?   17 years and 162,000 miles on the same struts?!!!

We need the rain.  We're in a drought so bad that the weather service has been posting red flags, and there were significant brushfires out east last week.  We had virtually no snow this winter, and our last significant rainfall was back in January. So I should be pleased to hear we are going to get rain this weekend . . .some showers on Satuday followed by a real soaker all day Sunday. Yeah, SUNDAY.  The day I have tickets for the Mets-Giants game.  Tom Seaver bobblehead day.

We come here often. It's an inexpensive option, will never replace a dinner at a good Chinese restaurant, but good value for the price. When the place first opened last December there was always a wait for a table, but the hype seems to have died down and tonight we were seated immediately. Sushi is good, though there isn't much variety, most steam table items are flavorful and the Mongolian wok is a good option. Dessert is somewhat lacking unless you like the chocolate fountain. Staff is attentive. And we usually find coupons in the Pennysaver.

I am sure I mentioned, at least half a dozen times, how much I love Ellen's Stardust Diner. It's not about the food, it's about the experience. I've been coming here since the 90's, and still enjoy it -- the retro feel, the party atmosphere. The home of the singing waitstaff, your server will be taking your order one minute and belting out a pop hit the next. Lately the place has been uber popular, and they don't take reservations, but even when the line is long the wait for a table isn't. I must warn you, Drew and I are not shy people. Do not come here with us if you would be offended by our singing along with the performers. In fact, that's what got me into trouble tonight. One of the waitresses sings "Different Drum", which was a hit for Linda Rondstat but which was written by Mike Nesmith. Yes, THAT Mike Nesmith, good old "Wool Hat" from the Monkees (and they said the Monkees weren't "r

Home from the hospital and feeling ok.

Deja vu!  Didn't I do this 5 months ago? Curse you, Friday the 13th. Pain started as I was getting ready to go over to Drew's house.  It wasn't bad, though, and faded out.  By the time I got to Drew's house, the pain was back. Told Drew and Marc to go get something to eat and went to lie down. Shortly after Drew got back, Becca called.  She'd taken a bad fall on the sidewalk near school, hit her head on the concrete, and was feeling nauseated and dizzy.  There is a hospital one blick away from her school, Drew told her to take a girlfriend and go to the hospital.  She's ok, by the way.  Even posted cute pictures of herself in the hospital gown on facebook. So I said to Drew, "if I didn't feel so lousy I'd get in the car and drive to Becca." Then I realized I should be on my way to the ER myself. Got to the ER Friday night, and I have been in this hospital ever since.  Even have the same doctor.  Only this time we are trying to avoid surge

The sad truth of the matter is that we are an incredibly dysfunctional family. My parents are in denial, seeing our bickering as the petty squabbles of children, when in fact there are so many deeper layers of emotion driving us. My father infantilized my sisters. They are still his babies, needing his protection, and I am the older sister who should "know better". They can get away with all sorts of bad behavior, but if I engage in similar acts he is quick to chastise me. They are "daddy's little girls", they coo at him and sing to him and twist him around their fingers. He treats me like an adult, and is often critical of my behavior. He's in denial about bad behavior on the part of the wonder twins. They are his angels, they can't have done that. I suspect he knows he didn't do right by them, that he's worried about their future and who will take care of them after he is gone. What really aggravates him during an argument is w

Taking some time away from the bitchfest to talk about another great NYC night. Our evening began at the Stage Deli. We've been here before, and enjoyed the experience. I was pleased to learn they have a Passover menu.  I ordered matzo brei (a fried concoction of matzo and eggs) with mushrooms and onions.  It was served with sour cream and applesauce.  I will be enjoying the leftovers tomorrow.  Drew had a tongue sandwich, his usual deli fare. We were not disappointed. When we walked into the deli, shortly after 6, there was no wait for a table. The place was hopping by the time we finished our meal. Next we walked to Times Square, where, I am happy to report, Stanley Cup Fever is alive and well. Yes, that is a huge fountain in the shape of the Stanley Cup. Our destination was the theater, for a "new" musical comedy called "Nice Work If You Can Get It". Very frothy

Dinner Tuesday night.  F prepared a meal for my parents, including chicken cutlets. I came home while my parents were eating, so my mother said "Grab a plate and come join us." When I put some chicken on my plate you would have thought I was committing a heinous crime.  A started yelling about how I was taking food out of my parents' mouths, that F made just enough chicken for my parents to have dinner Tuesday night and Wednesday night, that she and F would not be home Wednesday night to cook for our parents.  That I had better be prepared to provide for my parents for Wednesday night. But of course.  I am quite capable of putting a meal on the table, even during Passover.  I just don't think I should have to do so when my mother has two adult daughters living with her who have no jobs or means of support and who drive my mother's car and shop with her credit cards and do exactly as they please. As it happened, my mother and I had the foresight to buy frozen ko

No, I am not making this stuff up, more's the pity. We all have this picture in our heads of the stereotypical Jewish mother (or Italian, or Greek or whatever) spending her life in the kitchen, feeding/overfeeding her family to show that she loves them, providing food as a cure-all.  Bad day at school?  Here's some chicken soup.  Boyfriend dumped you?  Have a slice of home baked pie.  You get the idea. I have the opposite situation at home. F and A are fairly good cooks.  Baking has been their special hobby for a long time.  They are very good at it. Which truly surprises me, because they put themselves on a crazy diet many years ago. They don't eat most of what they cook, and none of the things they bake.  Really.  They live on bread and bagels (no toppings - butter, jelly, cheese and cream cheese are not allowed), baked potatoes (plain or with mustard), pasta with nonfat tomato sauce and a sprinkle of parmesian, fresh fruit, salad without dressing. Nonfat frozen yogur

So the other day a fight erupted.  As usual it started with something stupid and escalated. And my mother acted as if it was just the usual squabble among young children and told us to knock it off. And my father ignored it until I started in on A about her being 44 years old and starting to look her age and how I wished she'd act it . . .that's when my father jumped down my throat. The wonder twins are still little girls in his eyes. And when I said to my parents "This isn't trivial fighting. Do you know they told me I am not their sister, that I am dead to them?"  He replied "No one in this house would say that." A little later, I was in the kitchen with my mother and F was in the dining room, I said to F, "Did you say I am not your sister and that I am dead to you?" She said "Yes," and started a tyrade about my behavior.  Which I cut off.  And turned to my mother to confirm that she heard it. An hour later my mother denied tha

She graduates May 20 and I am so proud. She has no definitive plans for her post-graduation life.  She has lots of ideas but nothing concrete. She's the kind of girl who has a hard time dealing with change.   And she is scared. And I don't know how to help her. And I am so scared that she'll plop herself down on the couch next to the wonder twins and never get up.

Several years ago . . .Jen was still in high school at the time . . .the wonder twins and I got into an argument.  It was a stupid argument.  A found an article in the newspaper about being 50-something and placed the newspaper on my bed . . . I was a few years shy of 50 at the time abd the article was meant as an insult.  I'm afraid I reacted rather childishly.  I crumpled up the newspaper and threw it on her bedroom floor. I don't remember how it escalated.  But somehow it wound up with me in my bedroom and her pounding on my door and screaming at me.  She said she was going to kill me. From my vantage point she seemed out of control.  I called 911 and asked for an officer to come to the house to calm things down. A jumped into the car and drove away, and wasn't here when the officer arrived.    So nothing ever came of the incident. But to this day I am told that I overreacted and that I was wrong to call the police, that nothing terrible was going to happen and I sh

I can't believe I deleted my post about our theater trip last weekend.  So here I am, recreating it.  Or at least giving it a go. The evening began in B ubba Gump's.   It's a kitschy chain, like walking into the set of the Forrest Gump movie.  Servers even ask trivia questions to entertain the patrons.  Very touristy, but we like it. We were fortunate to sit near the window, with a view of Times Square -- the ABC News ticker and Toys R Us.  got to see a lot of costumed characters on the street -- the Statute of Liberty, Minnie and Mickey Mouse,  SpongeBob, Super Mario Brothers, even Elmo and the Cookie Monster, but alas, no Naked Cowboy. Dinner was shrimp (duh!), the shrimper's heaven -- fried shrimp, coconut shrimp, empura shrimp and cocktail shrimp, served with a side of fries. We had an hour to kill after dinner, so we wandered over to the Marriott Marquis Hotel.  Love this hotel, it's a 40-storey atrium with glass elevators.

Passover last night. It was the same as always, yet different. When I close  my eyes and think of Passover, I hear my father's voice.  We do the Seder mostly in English, with my father leading the service and reciting key prayers in Hebrew. But not last night. Last night my mother led the service. My father has become too frail and feeble to read the Haggadah. He sat at the table and followed along, but did not actively participate. I knew this was coming.  In the past few years he'd found it difficult to read at the table, but then again, he's been having difficulty with everything lately. I am not a "daddy's girl" and through the years I have had my issues with my father. But he's my father. And this hurts so much.

Old traditions and new. Last night at Drew's house.  I bought new Haggadahs for him, the 30 minute Seder. (Becca really didn't like it, but everyone else loved the brevity of the service.)  He made a turkey, instant mashed potatoes, jarred gefilte fish ...I make matzah farfel stuffing and baked a kosher-for-Passover cake from a mix.  New friends and old, gathered at the table. Tonight at my parents' house.  Haggadahs that date back to the 1960's, with the crumbs of a thousand Seders in their pages.  Rituals performed a thousand times.  Home made chicken soup with matzah balls, turkey and brisket.... Old and new, past and future. It's all good.

Watch "The Passover Seder Symbols Song" on YouTube

Don't you hate it when you accidentally delete a really good blog post?

Whan that aprill with his shoures soote 1 The droghte of march hath perced to the roote, 2 And bathed every veyne in swich licour 3 Of which vertu engendred is the flour; 4 Whan zephirus eek with his sweete breeth 5 Inspired hath in every holt and heeth 6 Tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne 7 Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne, 8 And smale foweles maken melodye, 9 That slepen al the nyght with open ye 10 (so priketh hem nature in hir corages); 11 Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, 12 And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, 13 To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; 14 And specially from every shires ende 15 Of engelond to caunterbury they wende, 16 The hooly blisful martir for to seke, 17 That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. 18 Bifil that in that seson on a day, 19 In southwerk at the tabard as I lay 20 Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage 21 To caunterbury