Friday, October 24, 2014

Make It Work!

"Channel your inner winner."
I'm trying, Tim. I'm trying.

It took a while, but eventually, I got hubby hooked on my favorite program. We don't always share the same viewing habits, as I may have mentioned.  He's upstairs watching "CNBC." I'm downstairs watching "The Today Show."  He's downstairs watching the Watch Channel. I'm upstairs watching "Revenge." But a few years back, I said to him, "Just watch this. Give it five minutes. If you hate it, I'll go upstairs and watch it." In this way, I enabled hubby.  Now he needs his weekly fix of "Project Runway," or he starts to shake, involuntarily.  He's got it bad, poor guy.  He walks around quoting Tim Gunn. "Make it work, bitches!" "Honey, he doesn't say 'bitches." I always have to correct him on that one, sometimes in public, yet. But not when he channels Heidi Klum. "As you know in fashion one day you're in, and the next, you're out."

And last night, he knew just what to say when I started weeping, uncontrollably. It was the Season Finale and when it comes to "Project Runway," those always make me howl like a baby with a wet diapy. "I wanted Amanda to win. She's so brave. She came back and look what happened. She made it to Fashion Week. Everyone deserves a second chance," I sobbed. "There, there," hubby said. "And... and... and.... her brother's in Maroon 5! He's so busy and he came to Fashion Week! Wasn't that nice?" "So nice." "Sean was good, but come on. Too much with the fringe.  It should've been Amanda." "But it wasn't." "Waaaaaaahhhhh."

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Ina In The House

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting in the waiting room, minding my own retina, watching "The Barefoot Contessa" on The Food Network. Have you noticed she's never actually barefoot? What up with that? Just then, as opposed to later, it occurred to the SJG that the powers-that-be usually have the TV tuned to a certain inflammatory news network that drives me insane. "Oh, boy, they're keeping it neutral at the House of Retinal Issues," I said to no one. And just as I was settling in, watching Ina do something fabulous with flour, a coupla altacockers came in, loudly. One look at the Contessa and the husband went ballistic. Maybe he forgot he wasn't in his own living room, but a waiting room full of folks with Eye-Related Tsuris.

"Would you look at that!" he hollered. "They've got a cooking show on! No wonder Americans are so fat. They're always watching cooking shows." His wife, poor thing, turned borscht red and tried unsuccessfully to shush him. "It's nice to watch people cook," she whispered. "Cooking shows!" he yelled again.

Well, the SJG was outraged. Outraged, I tell ya. There were so many, many things I wanted to say to this opinionated fella. Such as, but not limited to, "How dare you! That's the Barefoot Contessa up there on the flatscreen, mister. She's Cooking Royalty. Plus, better to watch a cooking show than a bunch of nudnik commentators who wouldn't know a chanterelle from a shiitake. Good day, sir. I said good day."

Before I could openly emote in defense of Ina Garten, my retina was summoned into Exam Room 2, and inspected as gently as a rare and delicate white truffle. "Retina-wise, you're good to go," the eye doctor said. "See you in six months." "Not if I see you first," I said. "By the way, love the Food Network in the waiting room, instead of that other horribly divisive channel you usually have on." "The Food Network was on? That's a mistake. Heads are gonna roll. The nurses must've put that on during lunch and forgotten to switch it back. I'll make sure that doesn't happen again."

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Don't Cry


... over spilled coffee unless it lands on any or all of the following:
a. You.
b. Your laptop.
c. Your Tempurapedic bed with the impossible to remove-zips around the entire mattress-cover.

By some miracle, the following survived:
a. My shaky grasp of reality.
b. My splattered-upon laptop (thanks to fast-acting hubby).
c. My title as Queen Klutzadora, 1958-present.

Gee, I guess I should pay more attention when I do stuff. 

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

All I Want

... for Hanukkah is this Heisenberg action figure. The mere existence of a toy meth dealer has stirred up quite a fuss:

Bryan's twitter response 

Of course, all of this just makes me wish there were a Short Jewish Gal kugel-making action figure. I bet the Florida Mom wouldn't have a problem with that. 

Monday, October 20, 2014

Monday, Monday


Monday starts with a shrug, a sigh, an ugh.
A feeling of dread, a kick in the head.
But Monday isn't that terribly bad,
Not compared to some other days I've had.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Get Hip To This Timely Tip

Tim Hauser 

The sad news that Tim Hauser passed away sent me back to the first time future hubby and I heard the Manhattan Transfer. Let's just say we were still in high school. One listen to "Java Jive" and we were fans for life. We saw them perform at the Roxy on Sunset. We bought every album. We adored them on every harmonic level. So imagine how ferklemp I got when I learned that Tim Hauser was a dad at the preschool the eldest attended. After a school event, hubby and I spotted him walking to his car. In typical SJG fashion, I blurted out, "I love you! Your music, I mean." And he smiled, humbly and said thanks.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

For Me?

"For me?'

I'm not sure when he started it, I forgot to ask him, but based on this photo, taken when he still had hair, it was most likely in the blissful marital stage known as B.K. Before Kids. Photos. Home movies. My whole life, he told us to say, "For me?" As in, "You mean all this attention is for me? Bring it! I deserve it." "For me?" says delight and surprise and Ed McMahon at the door with big news: "Mazel tov, you've just won Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes!" But we didn't need Ed McMahon at our door. We already had our grand prize. We had Ben Starr, a sweet, funny daddy who kept us laughing daily.

For you. Always. 

Happy birthday, Daddy. Wherever you are, I hope it's wonderful.