Days of Wine and 'Roses

Before:  Charoses fixings.  Also spelled:  Charoset.  Also spelled:  Haroset.  Apples, honey, walnuts, sweet wine, cinnamon. 

During:  Hubby serves as my Charoses Helper, wielding his fancy Japanese knife.  Chop, chop, chop!  Careful of the fingies!

After:  A big helping of symbolic mortar and mud, to remind us what Hebrew slaves used in their labor in ancient Egypt.

Gefilte Fishing In Sherman Oaks

Gefilte Fisherman at work

Back by popular demand, or laziness on my part, here it is again, "How To Catch A Gefilte Fish," by Lawrence Sherry:  "Many people think that gefilte fish is some kind of mixture you make in the kitchen rather than one of God’s creatures. Are they wrong!  Each year as soon as the frost on the great Gefilte lakes is thin enough to break the surface, observant fisherman set out to catch gefilte fish. Now unlike your normal fish, gefilte fish cannot be caught with a rod and a reel or your standard bait. The art of catching gefilte fish was handed down for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. For all I know Moses used to go gefilte fish catching. Enough already, you say, so how is it done? Well, you go up to the edge of the lake with some matzo.  You stand at the edge of the lake and whistle and say, 'here, boy! here boy!' The fish (who are very smart and understand English) can’t resist the smell of matzo! They come together to the edge of the lake where they jump into the jars and are bottled on the spot. When you figure out which end of the fish is the head and which is the tail, not to mention where the eyes are, let me know!"  Happy Passover!

Matzo, Matzo Man

Unleavened Humor:  "A Jew took his Passover lunch to eat outside in the park.  He sat down on a bench and began eating.  Shortly thereafter a blind man came by and sat down next to him.  Feeling neighborly, the Jew offered a sheet of matzo to the blind man.  The blind man ran his fingers over the matzoh for a minute, and exclaimed, 'Who wrote this?'"  Here's a classic by The Chosen People.

Spring Fling! Jailhouse Edition

Oopsie!

A TV career is such a delicate thing, whether you're in front of the camera, or behind it, or off to the side, praying the actors and the director turn your script, that thing you've rewritten 182 times, based on notes, notes and more notes, into something good, or at least something in the neighborhood of not-that-bad.  Fade in: 1995.  Title: "Spring Fling!"  Network:  ABC.  Stars: no one you remember, other than maybe Joyce Dewitt of "Three's Company," and Pat Harrington, Snyder on "One Day At A Time."  The majority of the cast was young.  It was a family movie, featuring a busload of crazy prep school boys, a hot, bikini-clad teenage gal and her annoying little brother.  Their mission: screw up Dad's plans to sell the family-owned beachfront motel.  (Cue the hilarious hijinks!  Or something in that general vicinity!)  Sometimes, I wonder about the nice young actors I got to meet on my bumpy journey through TV land.  Whatever happened to them?  Did they go on to greatness?  Or infamy?  Turns out, some gave up the biz (smart), some disappeared (ba-bye), some went on to big things (mazel tov!), and some went to jail (oopsie).  Take Lisa Robin Kelly, former "That '70s Show" actress who played  the older sister for a while.  This past weekend, she was arrested for beating up a dude.  That's a double oy vey, right there.  I remember her well.  In "Spring Fling!" she played Jenny, the hot, bikini-clad best friend.  When we were in San Diego filming, she actually gave me notes on the script, along the lines of "Make it funnier."  Sheesh!  Every-body's a critic!  "Go directly to jail," I said, and stormed off, leaving a trail of sand behind me.  (It was a beach movie, after all.)  No, I didn't.  You know me better than that!  I said, "Oh, uh huh, good to know," then stormed off.  Or maybe I skipped off, tra-la-la-di-da, or broke into a light jog, and stood there and wept, openly.  Either way, I may never see her on TV again, unless it's on some awful reality show like "Celebrity Has-Been: Jailhouse Edition."  Well, Lisa Robin, I've got a few notes for you:  Get your sh*t together, girlfriend.  Show the world that the role you're currently starring in, down at the county jail, was horribly miscast.  Come on, now. The SJG is rooting for you.

Don't Forget The Plate

(thankie to the lovely Yael Levi Blasberg for this cartoon)

Last night, I got my orders from my mother-in-law, who'd phoned from Passover Headquarters on the Westside, where matzoh costs more but tastes the same.  "So, you'll bring the folding chairs."  "How many?"  "Five."  "Five?  I thought you wanted nine."  "We have four that should work, but they're too low.  Are yours low?"  "No, they're good."  "So bring nine. It'll be tight around the table, with 12 of us."  "You want me to bring 12?" "No.  We'll use three of ours."  "It'll be cozy.  Let's hope everyone showers first."  "Don't forget the cushions."  "I would never forget the cushions."  "Last year, you forgot the seder plate." "That was the year before.  You forgot to remind me."  "I'm reminding you."  "I don't have it.  You do."  "Hang on, I'll check.  Where the hell did I put it?" "What else should I bring?"  "The charoset." "I look forward to chopping." "Don't forget the little cupcake tins."  "I still have some from last year."  "I can't find the plate."  "Try that little closet in the hall."  "There it is!  You're a genius."  "Thank you.  Now then, to review, nine chairs and charoset and little tins."  "That should do it."  "Don't you want me to bring macaroons?"  "'Did you see '60 Minutes' on Sunday?"  "I was too busy watching nine million other shows."  "They did a story about sugar.  It causes cancer."  "It does?"  "That's what they said.  I use Splenda whenever I can, but even that's bad for you."  "So, do you still want the macaroons?"  "Of course."

Has Anyone Seen My Brain?

The SJG Brain (patent pending) is a hectic place with limited parking.  The hours are long, the workers underpaid.  Frequent breaks for napping and noshing are mandatory, just to keep the conveyor belt moving with inventory.  Sometimes the machinery breaks down altogether and the SJG Brain grinds to a halt.  This happened several times on Sunday, and today technicians are standing by, in case the wires get crossed again.  But Sunday.  SUN-day.  What happened there?  In simplest terms, too much to process in a short time.  It was more than I could handle.  First I had to say goodbye, I love you so much it hurts, here's to a better quarter, God willing, to the college son, as he departed for the airport.  That put the keppy into overload right then and there.  It started replaying the good, the bad and the WTF of his nearly two years in Santa Cruz, once a heavenly shrine of we-don't-believe-in-grades, now a crowded zone of let-the-teaching-assistants-grade-you.  By the time I got to my dance class, the jazz hands couldn't tell left from right, and don't get me started on the feet.  During the routine, the SJG Brain left the building, only to return when the wonderful Doug Rivera announced, "See you Tuesday."  Back home, there was the Cavalcade of TV to contend with, something the Tivo handled gracefully.  But the brain threw a hissy fit. "It's too much wonderful!  Make it stop."  "The Killing."  "Mad Men."  "Game of Thrones."  "Californication."  "House of Lies."  We had to narrow it down.  So we watched "The Killing," two hours of excellence, despite the weird smattering of Canadian accents, and the universal grumbling that lead up to the premiere.  Then came "Mad Men," where all I could focus on was Fat Betty.  Comments ranged from, "Oh my God, she's fat!" to "Did they stick extra fat layers on her face?" to "Oh my God, January Jones was preggers when they filmed Season 2 and they're covering it up by turning Betty into a porker!" and then, finally, to, "Does everyone on Mad Men sound Canadian?"  This signaled that the SJG Brain needed a serious re-boot.  Airport Departures.  Complicated dance routines.  TV marathons.  Nighty-night.  Here's hoping today presents less to digest. The SJG Brain is a mixed metaphor, a strange hotel where reservations aren't always honored.

Short Jewish Gal Grows Five Inches Overnight!

Much  like the movie "Big," I went down to the carnival last night and asked Zoltar, not to be big, because that could've backfired and expanded the SJG width-wise, and we wouldn't want that.  My wish was to be taller.  "Just once," I told Zoltar, "I'd like to wake up with long, luxurious legs.  Just once, I'd like someone to say, 'Holy sh*t!  There goes a tall drink of water.'  Just once, I'd like to buy a pair of jeans that doesn't need shortening.  Just once, I'd like to tower over someone other than a five year old.  Make me taller, Zoltar!  Please, oh, please!"  Well, my bleeps, my blog-loving peeps, Zoltar spit out a card that said, "Your wish has been granted," and sure enough, this morning, presto-change-o, this little bitch woke up looking like a Glamazonian Goddess!  You heard me. The Short Jewish Gal needs a name change.  I'm now the Not-That-Short Jewish Gal.  I'm 5'6" and-a-half!  Correction.  Make that 5'7."  I'm growing as I write this!  If my wish keeps working, tomorrow, I may wake up looking like this gal:

Wouldn't that be something!  Let me think about it.  Why yes, it would be something freakatosis, not to mention, 100 percent miraculous!