Good Advice

Dear SJG,
This morning I stepped on the scale and assumed that a truly hideous error had occurred.  The amount of tonnage flashing back at me, digitally, struck me as just plain cruel, not to mention, grossly inaccurate. There's no way that a large vegetarian burrito, margarita, guacamole and chips could have done that much damage to such a petite gal.  I'm thinking of suing:  Baja Fresh or the manufacturer of the scale?  I can't decide. 
Love,
Porky in Sherman Oaks

How Did That Happen?

                    Done.  Now What?

Don't cry, sweetie.  Let go of my leg.  I'll be back soon, I promise.  I always come back.  See, here I am.  How'd it go?  Did you have fun?  You made that picture for me?  I love it.  I love you.  Take a cookie.  One cookie.  Okay, two.  Take a nap.  Take a bath.  Sleep tight.  She's a nice teacher.  It's a nice school.  Look at the playground.  You'll like it here.  I'll be back soon.  Stop screaming.  Stop crying.  Get out of the car. Don't forget your lunch.  Don't forget your homework.  Don't talk in class.  Don't forget to pee.  Don't throw that at me.  Come back here.  Go to your room.  Go play outside.  Go back and say you're sorry.  Did you have to make that face when they took the photo?  Did you finish your homework?  Did you brush your teeth?  Did you remember to say thank you?

The Mosquito

This morning I find hubby in front of the computer, determined to buy a device that would drive the party boys next door out of their minds.  It's called the Mosquito, and it sends out a high-pitched signal that only teenagers and people in their mid-20s can hear, leaving all other adults totally unaffected. 

Don't Worry, Sweetheart, Mother Is Here

Today she would've been 83.  I can't take her out to lunch or give her a gift or call her up and sing "Happy Birthday."  But I can celebrate her in other ways.  Here's my mom's favorite routine from "You Don't Have To Be Jewish."  In under three minutes, Arlene Golonka and Betty Walker sum up motherhood. 

An Abba-Zaba Situation

"Scotty, can you come down here a sec?"  The youngest appears, hair rumpled, outside his bedroom door.  "Am I in trouble?"  "Just come here."  He makes his way down the stairs.  "Open your mouth," I say.  He gets a look.  "You know?"  "Of course, I know."  "But how?"  "You posted it on Facebook:  Chipped my tooth on an abba-zaba for the second time. C'MON MANNNN." 

Worst Haircut Ever

The stylist will see you now

All week, the "Today Show" is running an on-going segment about hair, and what we gals go through to make it look nice.  To this day, I still cringe when I think about the most harrowing haircut I ever received. My mom had heard about some big deal hairdresser who worked out of his house.  Movie stars made up most of his clientele. She was lucky to get me an appointment, she said. At 15, I wore my baby-fine brown hair like every other girl at school:  Long and parted in the middle.  But Mom had a new style in mind for me, one she kept to herself for the time being.

Orange Toenails for Eternity

             A gift that keeps on giving

A few days before she went into the hospital, and right before her voice gave out for good, we talked on the phone, pretending everything was normal.  Somehow she remained slightly optimistic, based on what, I’ll never know.  In what would be our last conversation, she told me her long-time manicurist had come by the condo that afternoon. She wanted her acrylic nails removed.