Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Give It All You've Got

One morning, the SJG was walking into the kitchen, when her hubby of many years told her he had some news.  "I have some news," he said. The SJG brightened up. "Oh please, can you sing it to me?"  Hubby sighed. "I don't think you want me to do that." But the SJG insisted. "Sing out, hubby!  Give it all you've got!" And hubby started singing. "Da da da da da da....Your coffee maker's dead!"

Monday, July 28, 2014

The Great Basmati Debacle of 2014

It all went south after the soaking. 
On Sundays, hubby is in charge of dinner.  Here's how it works:
"See you at 6:30," I say, as I exit gracefully into the garage.
"Have fun.  Don't overdo it," he says, lovingly.
For some reason, hubby thinks I'm going to over-dance myself into a frenzy of pulled muscles.  Why does he think that?  Just because I sometimes return with a noticeable limp?  In any event, off I go to dance my cares away, while he ruminates over dinner.  Last night, I return to the smoky scent of grilled salmon and the curious case of the Basmati Debacle.
"I eff'd up with the Basmati," hubby tells me.
I peer into the pot and find a big mush pile of rice.
"What happened here, my love?"
"I don't know.  I followed the instructions."
"Really?"
"Yes.  I soaked the rice, I did everything right."
"I'm sure you did."
Enter the almost-done-with-college son, enjoying his last few weeks of freedom. "I'm not eating that."
"I followed the instructions," hubby says.
"Maybe the rice is defective," I say.  "But let's never speak of this again."
"Unless you blog about it."
"Well, there's always that possibility."

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Turn The Beat Around

"Hey, let's go see Gloria Estefan at the Hollywood Bowl."  This from Joan, the fearless octogenarian founder of the Sherman Oaks Jazz Hand Flashers.  That's all it takes to get me out of the house on a summer night.  And that's how I wound up at the Bowl last night, with Carrie and Nadine and Nadine's husband Barry filling in for Joan, who selfishly opted out, choosing her son's 60th over us.  The nerve of some people. It hurts just to think about it. When the pain hits, I'll just think about guest performer Andy Garcia, who turned up on bongos not once, but twice, yet.
A.G. probably knew the SJG would be in the audience.  Oh, yeah.  Andy and me, we go way back.  One of his gorgeous daughters went to preschool with the eldest son, and lucky me, I got to see Mr. Handsome almost daily.  Occasionally, I even found the courage to say hi.  He said hi back.  We had a moment, okay?
In keeping with the Latin feel of the evening, I returned home to the blaring, ear-busting, sanity-squashing sounds of Mariachi music blasting from a neighborhood party.  In my entire life, I've never heard Mariachi music played at this ungodly volume.  Loud doesn't begin to cover it.  Fortunately, it only went on till 2 a.m.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Questionable Career Advice

Yesterday morning, before the eldest's phone interview, one of many he's been enduring on his quest for employment in the Bay Area, I offered up some sage career advice, unsolicited, of course:  "Tell them you demand respect, more money than anyone your age deserves to make, two-hour lunch breaks, three-day weekends, unsupervised afternoon naps, a shapely masseuse at your beck and call, and a limo to and from work." "Absolutely," the San Franciscan texted back, "and my own designated toilet."* "Well, that goes without saying."
* I'm far too classy to subject you to what he actually said.

Friday, July 25, 2014

SJG Cancels Friday

The Short Jewish Gal, the last one on the block to see the sun go down every day, has decided to change her personal dateline and will now be the first to see the sun rise, on account of her highly competitive nature.  The SJG is getting ready to skip a day and shift her internal time zone forward by 24 hours for completely selfish reasons. "I never know what day it is, anyway, so this made perfect sense to me," she said in an exclusive interview. The SJG dateline, which runs through the middle of her backyard, and currently passes to the west of the nice granite island in her kitchen, means that the SJG is 11 hours behind everyone else's Mean Time. "I'm tired of being so nice.  It's time to get mean and stay mean.  Where has nice ever gotten me?"  As the clock strikes midnight on Thursday, the SJG goes straight into Saturday. "Getting rid of Friday means one less day of people annoying me, cutting me off in traffic, and worrying me sick by coming home late.  Losing a day is good for my mental health." After the change, the SJG will be one hour ahead of her immediate family, and three hours ahead of her casual acquaintances.  "I'm feeling very proactive.  I'm taking charge in ways I never thought possible.  I've also decided to switch driving on the right side of the road to the left side, so I can feel more British." (12-29-11)

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Up On The Roof

"Grandma, get down from there!"
"That reminds me of a joke.  You want to hear it?" -- Dr. Pollen, my long-time allergist
"Of course."
"John's parents are away on vacation. His father calls up to ask how things are going. John says, 'The cat is dead.' His father gets very upset, and says, 'Son, you could have put that a bit more subtly. For example, you could have said that the cat climbed onto the roof. He slipped and fell. And oh, no, he hit the ground and died.' Anyway, how's grandma?' John says, 'Grandma's on the roof...'"
"I love that joke."
"Oh.  You've heard it before?"
"It's a classic."
"You could've stopped me."
"Are you kidding?  This is the first time you've told me a joke in 23 years."
"I don't usually tell jokes."
"I know.  Are you trying to tell me something, Dr. Pollen?"
"Like what?"
"Bad news, God forbid."
"No, I was just trying to tell you the joke."
"You did a great job."
"Thanks."

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Coming of Age

A wonderful way to spend nearly three hours of a summer day: "Boyhood." The SJG and the youngest son sat in style in our pricey multiplex seats and took an amazing 12-year journey. We laughed and emoted like crazy.  One of us, the more maternally inclined, shed a tear or two, especially at the end, when the boy becomes a man without benefit of a Bar Mitzvah.  "Why?" I asked the rapper known as Scott D. "Not one Hebrew lesson.  Not one trip to the bima." "Ma, I think you missed the whole point of the movie," he said. "How dare you, my son. How. Dare. You."  "Didn't you see the scene where the grandmother gives Mason a bible?" "What's your point?" "And then the grandfather gives him a rifle." "You're right, these are not Jewish people.  Still, it was a great movie." "I think it's the best movie I've ever seen." "And aren't you glad you saw it with me, your mother, who shlepped you, lovingly, from boyhood to manhood and forced you to get Bar Mitzvahed?" "You're the mama." "That's right,  I am. Now remind me where I parked the car."
Ellar Coltrane, star of "Boyhood"