Me Me Me Me ME

Guess what?  I am an influential New Yorker. Know how I know this? Because someone left hangers for me in my lobby. To some, they’re just hangers, but to me, they are tangible, fuzzy, no-slip, highly- engineered proof that someone out there was thinking about me.

The hangers came to me from Joy Mangano, closet organizer. (I wonder, does she introduce herself that way? A la, Lois Lane, ace reporter? Or George Clooney, movie star? Turns out Joy Mangano is famous!  These hangers she sent me aren’t just any hangers — they are the best selling item in HSN history!! 167 million of these babies have been sold. Who knew? (other than the millions of hanger owners) Yet she’s decided that she’d like ME to blog about her. Maybe she’s hoping I’ll write things like “Gee, this Joy Mangano, who pays me no commission, and who I have never met, makes the best hangers in the world.” Perhaps she’s even hoping that I’ll tell you that — should you be able to find your way through the clutter that you surely wouldn’t even have, had you employed Joy Mangano in the first place –  you should check out her website and see the wonders she hath wrought with her organizational skills.  Point is, a woman who has beaten out spray on hair, Susan Lucci’s jewlery, and Suzanne Somers’ …everything — is interested in ME.

It’s no surprise that one you pass 40 you become invisible to a large segment of the population.  I’m just a little upset that once I had children I kinda became invisible to, well, EVERYONE!! I’m sick of everything being about my kids. What about me?

Yes, I love my kids, but sometimes I wouldn’t mind if my kids ceased to exist for a few hours.

Now before you start thinking I’m some kind of monster, know that I’m talking Twilight Zone style disappearance: they wouldn’t be on a playdate, or at school, or heaven forbid have anything sinister happen to them, they just “wouldn’t be,” as if they never were. They’d come back in a few hours, and life would go on as before, but for that brief time, they wouldn’t be part of my consciousness. Because once they exist, I am first and foremost their mother, and I can’t help but think about them.

Some examples to prove my point:

1)  I’m getting a manicure at Cindy’s (well-priced, clean and quick), relaxing, trying to enjoy a little me-time, when suddenly, I look out the window and notice a new children’s store across the street:

“Oh, look at that!” I think.  And with that I’m already on that slippery slope, ladies, and it ain’t paved with lavender scented hand-lotion. “They have some cute little socks in the window. My son needs socks. His feet have really grown. My daughter’s grown; she needs pants. Oh, crap, her pants! I left them in the dryer. Now I have to go home and iron her pants. “

There you have it, from relaxing me-time, to ironing board in no time flat.

Stepford Sarah: Palin Programmed for Debate!

Today, I got this email from my brother:

Gee willikers, wasn’t Sarah Palin swell last night. Let those East
Coast media elites say what they will, but that was one heckuva
whizbang show ole Sarah put on. Gosh oh golly she was great. What a
nifty VP she’ll make, dontcha think?

For those of you who aren’t from New York:  that’s called sarcasm.

Because while Sarah Palin didn’t humiliate herself, didn’t fumble, didn’t tell anyone she’d “get back to” ‘em. She also didn’t impress anyone (certainly not my brother, a proud, card carrying, ivy-educated member of the East Coast Elite) with the depth of her intellect and understanding.  Still, give credit where credit is due.  It was a great performance.  I can’t wait to see how she does in the evening gown portion of the event.

What my brother doesn’t know is, and what secret sources have recently revealed to this blogger, is that that wasn’t  really Sarah Palin up there.  It was (scary music sting) STEPFORD SARAH.

Whereas most candidates are coached before a debate, Sarah Palin was, quite literally, programmed, evidently by a former writer of that great American show, Hee-Haw.  Stepford Sarah was programmed in folksy overdrive.  I half expected her to ask for a break so she could check on the RV she had parked outside, grab a brewsky, and make sure she didn’t let down her bowling league on their big night.

Lord knows I’m fair and impartial, so I’ll admit that Joe Biden was working the working class thing, too.  But at least when he said “working class” there was a “g” at the end of the word.

I have done some quick mathematical calculation of the folksiness quotient of each of the debators.  You’ll see that it clearly shows that Sarah Palin was folksier by a quotient of Chuckie Cheese³.

McCain Changes Slogan from Country First to Campaign First!

Ok. So he didn’t really change his slogan. He might as well have.

I mean, far be it from me to accuse a decorated war hero of being less than patriotic…but does anyone out there really believe that McCain was thinking “Country First” when he picked the TOTALLY unprepared (albeit quite perky) Sarah Palin as his running mate? I think not. I think it was out with Country First and in with Campaign First. And now that Palin is being exposed as the underinformed lightweight that she is (thanks, Katie) I think McCain should dump her and pick someone new as his running mate. I’ve already nominated myself and Anna Faris, but here are a few more suggestions:

1. David Hasselhoff

Hey, this guy could really shore up our foreign relations. Not only do they love The Hoff in Germany, but he’s a HUGE hit in — well, everywhere. This is a quote from his own social network (and any guy with his own social network knows how to use “the Google” for sure.)

In my travels round (sic) the world I have always been surprised that no matter where I go people recognize and know me, from Europe, Australia and India to the Philippines and the Zulu Nation in South Africa. This got me thinking… I realized that while two people from two entirely different countries and backgrounds may seem to have nothing in common, the only thing they might have in common is me.

He’s not just looking out his window at other countries, people in other countries are looking at him — in a bathing suit! The Hoff even knows about The Zulu Nation!!

Plus, we all know he makes measured, fair decisions. His judgment is sound. Haven’t you seen him on America’s Got Talent?

2. Elmo

Who could not like Elmo? World leaders would find him so darn cute they’d put aside petty complaints like our unfounded invasions of other countries, the war crimes perpetrated against detainees in Abu Gharaib and GTMO, and our infliction of Paris Hilton on the world at large.

He’s excellent at teaching all about cooperation, this guy could reach right across the aisle with his furry little hand.  Also, remember all that hullabaloo about the Alaska governor’s private jet? Elmo doesn’t need a jet! Just fold him up, put him in a suitcase, and you’re set to go.

Of course, having a president with a puppet as VP would take some adjusting. We’re so used to it being the other way around.

3. Bullwinkle.

For all those deeply disturbed by Palin’s propensity for mooseburgers. This guy IS a moose! The Anti-Palin incarnate!!

4. Glinda the Good Witch

There’s just something about Palin that reminds me of Glinda. So if McCain chooses her (and yes, I know she’s fictional….this whole exercise is fictional…do you really think I think McCain is going to believe that The Hoff knows anything abou the Zulu nation?) Anyway — if McCain chooses Glinda, he’ll have a change, but he’ll still have a perky, can-do, kinda gal. And the similarities don’t end there:

• Like Palin, Glinda flies. Granted, the Good Witch flies without a helicopter or assault rifle, and instead of killing defenseless little furry creatures, she saves defenseless little munchkin creatures…but let’s not nitpick, shall we?
• In the face of difficulty, Glinda doesn’t blink. She may flutter her eyelashes a lot, but she doesn’t blink. Did you see her take on The Wicked Witch of the West? You can’t blink.  You just can’t.
• Palin is kept from the media in a protective bubble. Glinda travels in an actual bubble.

The similarities are mind-boggling!

5. Tina Fey

This one is a no-brainer.  She does a pitch perfect impression of Palin…but she has a brain!! It’s Palin without Palin! All the perkiness, all the spunk, she even wears glasses! Plus, if things ever get awkward on an international visit, she can always do a comic riff to loosen things up a bit. An added bonus…she’s friends with Alec Baldwin. Much better than that snow-mobiling hick the real Palin hangs around with.

There you have it. A comprehensive, vetted list of a “vast variety” (to quote Scary Sarah) replacements for Sarah Palin should McCain choose to dump her at this late date. (As if!) They all have name recognition, they all know have experience handling the “gotcha media,” and they all have at least as much claim on the job as Palin.

I hope he picks David Hasselhoff, though.  He’s got that really cool car! Kitt is way better than a motorcade. It’s even got artificial intelligence. So it’ll fit right in with the rest of the Republican administration. The Maverick and The Hoff. Makes as much sense as anything else that’s been happening this election. I like it.

Happy Humanistic New Year

I belong to a Humanistic Jewish Congregation.  Basically, that means that it’s Judaism without the Hocus Pocus. It’s cultural, ethnic, historical, can’t escape who we are and don’t want to Judaism.  And today, Rosh Hashsana, I was asked to address our congregeation for the New Year.   Here’s an edited version of my talk.

Happy New Year.

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Truthiness.

That’s TV host Stephen Colbert’s for “the quality of preferring concepts or facts one wishes to be true, rather than concepts or facts known to be true.”

When Colbert first coined the word on his show he used the Iraq War as an example.  “The facts may have proved us wrong.” He said.  “But didn’t the invasion just feel right?”

Truthiness, then, is the opposite of skepticism. Where a skeptic questions the validity of things that can’t be proven true, –  like, say, that a certain Alaskan governor is ready to be Vice President — the Truthi-ac just plain likes her.

Truthiness is also completely antithetical to Jewish tradition.  We don’t just feel things and then decide they are so.  We scrutinize, we agonize, we analyze.  There are endless debates about everything from whether or not one can eat rice on Passover, to whether we light the menorah from right to left or left to right, to whether or not pastrami on white is a punishable offense.

As Humanists we question everything.  I once read that the believer only has to justify the existence of God, and the atheist the existence of everything else.  Well, for many of us, that leaves everything else.

The Great Debate: City v Suburbs. City wins.

“You’re still in the city?  Don’t worry, you’ll get a house soon.” A (former) friend of mine actually said that to me with a straight face.  As if staying in the city to raise my kids was some kind of booby prize.

“Gee, I’d love to move to the ‘burbs where I could eat in chain restaurants and think they were good. Help me, oh suburban wise-woman.”

Puh-lease. Yes the city is loud. Yes the cost of living is high, the square footage of my apartment is low, and grime seems to deliberately make it’s way through the cracks in my eighty-year old windows just to piss me off. (Click on the link for a solution, it really works) But I am a city person and I will never, ever move to the suburbs.  I do not like the suburbs.  I would be bored.  I would feel isolated.  I would have to drive a lot.   I would not be able to go to the theater on a weeknight,discover a new shop just by wandering a few blocks from home, or get truly great takeout any night I didn’t feel like cooking.

But that’s all about me.  What about my kids?  Do I just tell myself that they’re getting it all, when really they’re missing out on so much?

In a word, no.

Because a lot of what people argue is so great about life in the burbs: the space, the freedom.  It just isn’t there anymore.

Take walking to school.  I walked to school with my friends — no adults — from third grade on. Today, parents are afraid to let their kids walk to school alone.  It’s gotten so bad that towns even need “Walk to School Day” initiatives.    My own sister-in-law drives my niece the .25 miles from their suburban New Jersey house to her school.   Suburban parents say things like “but it’s so unsafe now, they can’t walk to school anymore.”  That used to make sense to me.  But it’s too unsafe for my kids to walk to school too, so I WALK WITH THEM.  Nearly 1.5 miles each way.  It’s a wonderful time for us to be together.  We talk and laugh, they nag me incessantly about buying a dog, and I say “hurry up” a lot.  But what I don’t say is “it’s too unsafe for them to walk alone — so they won’t walk at all.”  What’s with all this driving in the burbs?  It would drive me crazy.

And biking?  Sometimes we use our Xootrs ,(check them out- cooler and sturdier than Razors) zipping across the park to school.  When I was a kid I rode my bike.  Well, last week I was in my hometown where the streets are narrow and the SUVs are huge.  Unless you’re into your kid playing chicken with a SUV driven by a woman on her cell phone, your kid isn’t biking to school, either.

So what, exactly, are my urban kids missing?

Sing, Sarah Palin, Sing!

Last night, I went to see a neighbor’s cabaret show.  You know, one of those things where you rent out the space, hire the band, and then invite all your friends to pay a cover charge, drink the two drink minimum and come to hear you sing.  And all I could think about, the whole time I sat there, was Sarah Palin.  Because  - and this is just between you and me — my neighbor can’t sing.  I mean, he can carry a tune and all.  But that’s about it.  The thing is, though, he was good.   Neighbor Man is a great performer.  He was charming.  He was funny.  He was warm.  He was, quite clearly, having the time of his life.  And so I didn’t (much) care that when he held a note for more than a beat or so it started to go flat.  I didn’t care that his voice was, shall we say, less than fabulous.  He was truly entertaining. I liked him.

I think that that’s how people feel about Sarah Palin.  Maybe she doesn’t know her stuff.  Maybe she doesn’t have enough experience, maybe she can’t really sing, but gosh darnit, isn’t she just the greatest?

Last night in her exclusive interview on CBS news, Katie Couric asked Sarah Palin to give her even  “one example of John McCain pressing for more regulation” on Wall Street.

“He’s a Maverick.” Palin answered, non-sequitorally.

Couric pressed again, asking for a specific example.

“Well, we need to really be behind new regulations.”

Couric, promising that she wouldn’t beat this to the ground, asked one last time for specific examples.

“I’ll try to find you some and I’ll bring ‘em to ya.” answered Palin.  Her folksy smile and phony eyeglasses gleaming for the cameras.

So there you have it:  she can’t sing, but she’s entertaining.

On the Cabaret stage, when your friends are in the house, that’s a good thing.  But on the international stage, when the country and the world are depending on you — well, you’d better have your facts straight.. or at least your script;  you’d better be able to belt it out like Bette or Barbara.

Because out there in the real world, where everyone isn’t your friend, charm and likability just aren’t enough.  And even a really big cover charge won’t cover that up.

Listen, You can Almost Not Hear Me!

If you’re writing a blog and no one comments, does it make a sound?

Well, not a sound. But you know what I mean. I just feel a bit like nobody’s listening to me.  Which might be OK — except I feel that way a lot.  Like when I say to my kids, “time to brush your teeth,”  walk them to the bathroom, put their toothbrushes in their hands, and come back five minutes later to find them sitting on the floor playing Monopoly, toothbrushes abandoned, breath as rancid as a dead fish on a hot dock. Or when I say, for the bazillionth time, “put your clothes in the hamper” only to watch my son walk by his pants, crumpled in a heap on the floor, on his way to grab a toy off his shelf.  There are my constant, unheard admonitions to sit at the dinner table, hang up their coats, stop yelling, do your homework.  It’s endless.  No wonder they don’t hear me.  I wouldn’t want to listen to that all day.

My husband doesn’t hear me either.  I’ll say to him, “I bumped into your friend Ted today.” and he’ll answer “You bumped your head on some hay?”  which doesn’t even make sense.

I actually set him for a hearing test.  The doctor laughed and told him that innumerable men get sent to him by their wives.

Of course Hubby’s hearing was fine.  He’s not deaf, he’s just ignoring me, to borrow a well-known t-shirt saying.   There’s actually a song with that title, but nobody listens to it. (some four-letter lyrics - clicker beware)

If I ignored my kids as much as they ignore me, I’d be called in for child abuse.  Can you imagine?  “Mommy, mommy, can I please have some water?”  And I’d just walk right by the fridge on my way to the Barney’s Warehouse sale. Or “Mommy, Mommy, I think I broke my leg!”  and I’d just smile vaguely on my way to the gym.  That’d show ‘em.

They listen when I read to them.  I’m like the Jim Dale of Mommies - with a voice for every character.  That gets their attention.  So maybe that’s it.  Maybe I should put on an Irish brogue when I tell them to clear their plate, a French accent when I want them to drink their milk, a southern twang when it’s time to turn off the tv.  I’ll be the Meryl Streep of nagging.  I think I’ll try it.  Hey, whatever works, right?

I’ll let you know how it works out.

My First Working Mom Dilemma

A few years ago, when my twins were three or four years old, I left my daughter home with the Nanny while I went to work.  My Wee One (WO) had a cold, so part way through my day, I called to see how she was.

Me: Hi baby-girl! How are you?

Wee One: I’m fine.  But where are you, Mommy?

Me: I’m at work.

WO:  Do you have a hammmer?

Me: No, sweetie.  No hammer.  What do you think Mommy does at work?

WO:  I don’t know.  What do you do?

Me: I make commercials so that people know what shows to watch on TV.

WO:  Well, that doesn’t sound very important.  I think you should just come home.

Out of the mouths of babe, right?  Not long after that I slowed work considerably, only accepting those projects I knew wouldn’t keep me in the edit room until 3am. (Which in TV, isn’t a lot.)  And eventually, I stopped more or less all together, aside from the occasional day-job here and there.

But recently, I started working again.  And today, I had to back out of going on a class trip because I have a work meeting I can’t get out of.

You know what?  This working thing is really cramping my style.

John McCain Should’ve Picked Me!!

Every time I see Sarah Palin, a former beauty queen (runner up), mother of many, not all that experienced governor of a state that has about as many residents as my building.  I cannot believe that John McCain would do this.  I mean, why not pick Elisabeth Hasselbeck?  She’s cute. She’s conservative.  And people have actually HEARD of her. Or, why not just pick me?  Never mind that I’m a  pro-choice, pro-gun control, seriously left of center liberal — I don’t blink. I stay the course.  And I really need my glasses.

But in case you still need convincing…read on

1. I am the Mayor of my own domain.

• I do all the budgeting (you try to send two kids to private school in NYC).
• I do all the scheduling: gymnastics, piano, guitar, roller blading, cooking, Tae Kwan Do.(It’s a wonder they have time for school at all.)
• I take meetings about matters important to my constituency: how much tv can they watch, when can they get a dog, do they have to kiss their Great Uncle hello, even though he’s the kind of guy strangers offer to buy food for when they see him on the street?
• Pretty much everything I do is a photo op, what with the cuteness of my little ones.

Minding Manners (bad ones, that is)

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s house for dinner. As usual, it was a mix of kids and adults, even a new puppy. What wasn’t so usual was the conversation. I mean, let’s be honest, high-level intellectual and political conversation has gone the way of the adults-only dinner party. Sure, they happen once in a while, but for the most part, it’s pasta, pizza and potty training. But this dinner had some pretty interesting guests: one is a director of development at The Clinton Foundation, another is the founder of KIPP, the Knowledge Is Power Program, “a national network of free, open-enrollment, college-preparatory public schools in under-resourced communities throughout the United States,” our hosts are a former state department employee and a woman who is the chief knowledge officer at a non-profit that strives to improve the quality and retention of top quality teachers in the public school system nationwide. And me? Well, I’ve won the Nobel Peace Prize. Yeah, that was me. For outstanding achievement in drool wiping.

So I found myself in a truly interesting conversation. We talked about the election (of course), the Lehman Brothers situation, the amazing lack of respect for Country (first) McCain’s VP pick displays.  There wasn’t a Hannah Montana reference in sight. And then it happened: the invasion of the eight year olds.