Friday, September 19, 2014

No Cuts!

True that.

The SJG loves a short cut, but then, who doesn't? If there's a way around traffic, I'm going to find it. I'm a fan of the side street, the alley, the secret maneuver that gets me there faster. Only, it rarely works. Sometimes my short cut lands me in worse traffic than if I'd just stayed on the more straightforward path. Or I turn down the wrong street and end up lost.

So, what does this tell me? I'm so glad you asked. I've always adored you. What it comes down to is this: Short cuts fail more often than they succeed.  Most importantly, short cut can also be spelled shortcut and it means exactly the same thing. You save one space with shortcut, but what does it really get you in the long run? Not much.

Any time I've tried to fast forward through anything, it's only worked when I'm holding a remote control.

Raising kids, cobbling together a career, sorting through assorted heavy duty life issues, all of that stuff takes time. A lot, a lot of time. There's no jumping ahead, no taking a giant leap past everyone else. "Ha ha, bitches! Outta my way. I'm going places and I'm getting there before you!"


The only significant thing I learned in school: "No cuts!" Back then, I thought it meant, "If you step in front of me in line, I will hurt you." But now, I realize it goes much deeper than that. "If you try to rush past me, in your pathetic quest to save time, get ahead, succeed, or get the new iPhone 6 before me, you'll just get sent back to the beginning and have to start all over. Much like an endless game of Candy Land."

Thursday, September 18, 2014

How To Give A Good Hug

The manliest of hugs

The SJG is a big hugger from way back. I hug hello. I hug goodbye. I'm a certified hugger. This hugging thing is usually well-received. But it's great to have a handy instructional video courtesy of Buzzfeed, as a refresher course. God forbid I'm hugging the wrong way. The ultimate shanda! Double click for full hug.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Short Circuit: Sherman Oaks

I've looked better

Yesterday: 106 and the a/c goes out.  Seriously? And now I'm outside, melting like the Wicked Witch. Cursing the world and the circuit box I'm staring at, while hubby tells me over the phone what to do.
"Switch the circuits to the right and then switch them to the left."
"I did that already."
"Try again."
"Okay, I'll call you back."
I do-wacka-do, go inside, attempt to turn on the a/c. Nada.
"Hi, honey. It's me."
"Did that work?"
"No."
"Are you at the circuit box?"
"No... oh God, do I have to go outside again?"
"It would help."
"I'm here. Ouch. The cover just hit my nose. That's gonna leave a mark."
"It should stay open."
"It doesn't. What now?"
"Switch just the a/c circuits to the right and then the left."
"Which ones are those?"
"The big ones. They should be numbered."
"Nothing says a/c."
"It has to."
"Oh, wait. It says 18 and 19 are for a/c. But there's no 18 or 19 marked."
"You have to count each one."
"Oh, dear God. It's so eff'n hot."
"I'll come home."
"No, I can do this. I'll call you back."
I count, I switch, I shvitz, I go back inside, I try to turn on the a/c. Nada.
"Me again. I got bupkis."
"I'm coming home."
"No, don't. I can survive a few hours of Death Valley heat. Stay put."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
Fifteen minutes later, I hear the garage door open. Hubby to the rescue. He goes outside, works his magic, and the a/c is back on.
"Why didn't it work for me?"
"I don't know."
"Should I take it personally?"
"I wouldn't."
"I know you wouldn't. That's why it worked for you and not for me."

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Ten Things I Won't Be Doing Today

"According to my crystal ball, it will cool down at some point."
1. Wearing a sweater.
2. Shopping for an electric blanket.
3. Parading around the house in thick flannel jammies.
4. Chopping wood for the fire.
5. Saying, "Brrrrr, it's so chillster."
6. Donning my faux fur apparel.
7. Searching for my lost pair of Uggs.
8. Accepting the Chicken Soup Challenge.
9. Slipping hand warmers into my gloves.
10. Insulating myself against the elements.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Season Finale!


Tonight on the season finale of "The Shvitzer," a case of free-floating agitation results when a short Jewish gal signs herself out of the Sherman Oaks Kvetch Ward in search of a working air conditioner. Now Shanda and the Priority Pickers, a successful klezmer group that dabbles in detective work, must find the short Jewish gal, last seen wandering the frozen foods aisle at Gelson's, and convince her the heat wave will end before the High Holidays hit in a week.


As Shanda sorts through the complicated details surrounding the short Jewish gal's hormonal imbalance and iffy internal temperature gage, out of whack since her mid-40s, she discovers that a member of her own klezmer group may have tampered with her prized accordion. But Shanda may have bigger problems when she suddenly faints from heat exhaustion and must be resuscitated by an extraordinarily hot paramedic, who turns out to be Herschel, her third cousin twice removed. So much for love at first sight.


Sunday, September 14, 2014

Help Yourself


"By any chance, did you just spend $500 at Victoria Secret?"
"Are you kidding?"
"$400 at Sephora?"
"That's a lot of makeup."
"What about Hot Dog on a Stick?"
"You know I don't eat hot dogs."
"Were you just at the mall?"
"I was just on the sofa. I'm still on the sofa."
"So you didn't leave your American Express card somewhere?"
"Uh, no. What's going on?"
"I got a text alert. Some a-hole went apesh*t with your account."
"What the eff?! But how?"
"Who knows."
"So someone went on a crazy-ass shopping spree with my card? Even though it's still in my wallet?"
"Apparently."
"What is wrong with people?"
"So much."
"Be honest, honey. Are you a little disappointed it wasn't me dropping dollars at Victoria Secret?"
"There's still time. The mall's open till 9."
"But I'm so comfy on the sofa."

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Both Sides Now


That thrilling moment when you discover that the shorts hubby bought with the college son (while you were chilling elsewhere) are actually reversible -- does it get any better than that? The last time the term "reversible" entered my consciousness arrived courtesy of Robert Wagner, extolling the virtues of reversible mortgages on TV. I didn't understand it then. I don't understand it now. But reversible shorts, I totally get. Two shorts for the price of one? That's cause for celebration.


It's the little things in life that make the SJG happy. And the fact that neither hubby nor the college son knew the shorts were reversible? Even better. Something else to lord over them? I'll take it. It all came out in the pre-wash. I turned the shorts inside out, like any good Jewish laundress should, and went a little bit loopy with glee. "Oh, dear God in heaven! These shorts are reversible!" I said. "Can you eff'n believe these shorts are reversible?" "That's great, Ma," the shorts owner said. "How many more times you gonna say it?" "I think I'm done." Then I said it a few more times. I think it's out of my system now. Maybe.