Now & Then

Now: A snapshot of Sunday's anniversary soirée, courtesy of Billy and Scotty, our menschy sons, our daughter-in-law Chloé and Scotty's girlfriend Meg. In honor of our 40th, they spoiled us on so many levels I may never recover. First came the surprise video featuring family and friends wishing us mazel tov. Did your SJG alternately sob and scream with such intense delight that I quite possibly scared the baby and damaged her tender eardrums? A strong possibility. Along with the magnifico video I can't believe they pulled off in record time, and the fact that our family and friends came through like Academy Award-winning pros (only slight exaggeration), there was plenty champagne, delicious food and of course, the pièce de résistance, carrot cake reminiscent of our wedding cake. Carrot cake? Yes. You got a problem with that? It was 1980. Cream cheese frosting? A fabulous choice. Shockingly, not everyone gathered yesterday appreciated the bold selection. Chloé took a bite and used her French heritage as an excuse not to eat another morsel. "We don't have carrot cake in France," she said, more than once. Meg also had issues with the overall carrotness, not-so-subtly transferring her slice to Scotty's plate. To each her own, am I right? 

Then: The young SJG and hubby, excited to embark on whatever awaits us. 

Spear Me The Details

Exciting news. After some budgetary setbacks, the SJG's Outdoor Dance School is finally up and running. Every week, we'll delve into a different theme on the front lawn of my palatial estate. For the first assignment, I schlepped out a basket of random props and asked my dancers to explore their inner warriors. Hence, the Interpretative Spear Dance featured above. All I said was, "Girls, careful not to take out an eye, I don't need any lawsuits." A few spritzes of insect repellent later, their Isadora Duncans emerged like you wouldn't believe. I just can't wait to see what they dream up for Rodeo Week. Which reminds me to send a note home: "Horses Optional."

Yee-haw. See you at the recital. 

Nightmare Now In Session

It's a recurring nightmare. 

Just the thought of it makes me scream.

I'm still not sure how I got my sons through homework.

What if I'd had to homeschool them? Oy to the vey. 

That wouldn't have ended well.

So hat's off to all the brave moms and dads homeschooling their kids yet again, protecting them because, quite honestly, what choice do they have? I can't think of anything harder or more noble. The SJG is marveling, kvelling and doing a lively hora on your behalf. 

Well done, you!

Kwik Kleen Keppy Kar Wash

Mindy Kaling Inspo!

(Sherman Oaks) The SJG believes she's solved the whole hair salon shutdown situation, merging the traditional hair salon concept with the local Auto Scrub, to form Kwik Kleen Keppy Kar Wash. As she explained over a Zoom session, "I figure, some salons are getting approved to cut hair in the parking lot. Sounds okay, but what about the heavenly hair wash that comes before the cut? Sure, they can spritz your hair with a water bottle, but what fun is that? Why not line up some hunky guys...

"Polishing the hood costs extra."

"like this firefighter... to wash your hair and car at the same time? It's messy, but if they towel you and the car off at the same time, it's win-win. If this isn't genius, I don't what is." When a testy mainstream reporter on Zoom compared her idea to a sad, ill-conceived low-budget porn movie in terrible taste, her screen froze and she never returned.

That Time My Brother Won The Dating Game

"This is about as straight as I get," says my brother John Starr, regarding his 1979 appearance on "The Dating Game." You'll notice that the other two loser contestants have magically disappeared, because who even cares about them? Not us. So sit back and enjoy 4.5 minutes of vintage hilarity from a simpler time when life was 100 percent perfect in every way. Or not. Either way, watch this.  

It Wasn't Me

Last night at approximately 7:15 p.m., as I modeled a peppy polka dot dress, elegant eyewear and cotton ball hairdo, so much easier and cheaper to maintain, now that the salon situation is once again in the crapper, the SJG's married son rudely accused me of a crime. "Ma," the text began, part of an endless family chain, because God forbid these people in my bubble should pick up a phone and call, "there's a photo fee you know you owe to Chlo." "How dare you!" I replied. Followed by, "It wasn't me." "Don't hide from the truth, Ma. You know it was you. Here's the Facebook evidence." 

The so-called evidence

Okay, fine. So maybe I did "borrow" an adorable photo of my grand baby that I just-so-happened to come across on Chlo's Instagram. But isn't it my right, after a lifetime of giving, giving, giving, to take a bissel something for myself? Not according to the justice-minded millennials down the road. Before I could make my case, this unreasonable demand arrived from a lovely French negotiator: "You owe $5 a photo, family price. Pretty fair for that amount of cuteness." Who was I to argue? And yet, I still needed to offer a weak typo-ridden defense. "It wasn't me. Or maybe it was. Who the @#$% cares? Leave me alone. I'm very busy pretending to watch the Lakers. I'll pay later in hogs." Before I could correct myself and write "@#$%! I meant hugs!" the youngest son chimed in with the shaming. "Hogs? Seems unreasonable, Ma." Half a second later, my D.I.L. mocked me, visually.

Then added: "No thank you. Five hogs are more than I can handle." Humph. That may or may not be the last time I "borrow" anything from these people. 

Portrait Of A Kvetcher

Can you say shanda? The official portrait of the SJG has been removed from the Not-So-Grand Foyer of the Jewish Home for Compulsive Kvetchers, and replaced by...

... "Something a little less depressing," according to Riba Fish Noshberg, JHCK's founder. "Listen, we didn't get rid of the SJG's portrait altogether. God forbid we should insult her. We truly appreciate the Smart & Final veggie tray she schleps to the weekly kvetch sessions, not to mention her small but meaningful annual donation to our Everything Aches Endowment Fund. Why the switch? Well, the board took a vote and decided the SJG's portrait doesn't quite fit our current slogan, prominently displayed on a nice plaque in the garden, if you can call it that. It's true, we've been doing a little weeding. We got rid of This Too Shall Pass, because, let's face it, we have no idea if this Covid situation will pass. The message feels a little fuzzy and misleading. So we went with It Could Be Worse, even though, just between us, I can't imagine how much worse it could get, can you? But so you shouldn't post something nasty and undermine the important work we do here at the home, the SJG's portrait didn't vanish, it just relocated to the powder room with the peeling wallpaper, at the end of the hall."