my blonde logic

Ode to the Motherboard

Can we please take a moment to reflect on the loss of a dear friend, Motherboard.

Her sudden passing has taken all of us by surprise.  Her time with us was short, but every moment was lived to the fullest.  With her goes the family photos, emails, addresses, and all that we have shares throughout the years.

It is with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to G4 and all of the memories.

May she rest in peace and reconnect with my Treo, iPod, original giga hertz cordless phone, plasma TV, and all the technology that left too soon.

Let's Get Ready To Rumble

I have to go to duane reade to pick up a prescription. I go after I pick the kids up from school.  Dealing with the people in duane reade is never pleasant.

On the way I brief the kids, no touching, don't ask for anything, no fighting, pushing, or shoving.  I ask that they repeat the instructions so we are all clear on what the protocol is.  I sit thing 1 and thing 2 on the seats in the corner.  So far so Good.

All good things must come to an end!

We have been in the pharmacy no more than 2 minutes when thing 1 hurls a bag of corn nuts at thing 2.  Thing 2 then throws her backpack at Thing 1.  It was like the Jets and the Sharks rumbling, except their weapon of choice was food products.

While the rumble continues, I am trying to convey to the eager employee to stop chatting with her girlfriend about whatever and get me my pills now!  She then hisses at me as she saunters over 5 feet from where I am standing and just told her my name and says what name is it?  I repeat the information and encourage her to expedite this process.

While I am losing my patients with the duane reade girl, Thing 1 and Thing 2 are hurling themselves at one another across the waiting area.  I am now on the brink of of just dropping down into the fetal position.  Suddenly a woman with her little boy, pacifier in mouth, all strapped in to his stroller, directs her attention to my people.  She says "are you going to buy those corn nuts?, if not don't you think you stop throwing them and put them back?"  Her follow up is "your mother is trying to get her prescription and this is not very nice behavior".

Thing 1 and Thing 2 look stunned at the strange lady, stop for a minute and laugh.  She walks away and  I am mortified.  Some uppity lady with a strapped in toddler, a little too old to have a pacifier just reprimanded my children in duane reade.

Is she right?  To a degree yes.  Did I want to hear it from her?  NO!  I know the rumble shouldn't be taking place, but I need my pills.  Does she think I can't control my children?  Why do I care? 

Why can't the stupid duane reade girl move her ass so I can get the hell out of here?

These are all very good questions and the answers lie someplace between logic and reality.

Life in the "twilight zone" is never what you think it should be.

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore

Please don’t bring me flowers anymore
OK people, as the (Jewish) holidays are approaching there is always the questions of what should I bring to so and so as a hostess gift.  Well, when people are on auto pilot they bring flowers.  Gee how original and thoughtful. 

Of course I didn’t spend weeks working on the perfect scheme for the event-- coordinating the food, plates, cocktail napkins, dinner napkins, music, lighting, guest towels, candles, etc.  Now in the middle of all of my prep for the billion course meal, my lovely guest has brought me this Technicolor Dream Coat bouquet.  Stop the presses, while I halt production of the holiday meal in my 7x7 new york city kitchen, where I have brisket for 20 (even though I only have 10 people) precariously balanced on top of the toaster. 

I now have to rummage through the cabinets on my hands and knees in my holiday best, in order to find the one vase that will perfectly fit the $12 for 2 dozen roses that are sitting on my kitchen counter.  This may all sound harsh and ungrateful, on the contrary, it is just reality.  I now have to trim and clean 24 roses that will keep me in the kitchen and away from my guests so excuse me for not dropping to my knees in thanks, I already did that looking for the vase. 

How about yarmulkes that aren’t from cousin Bernard's Bar-Mitzvah circa 1970.  Better yet a set of wine glasses.  They don't have to be color coordinated, they go with everything, and  the earth doesn't have to stop rotating on its axis in order to find a way to incorporate them into the evening. 

They don't have to be break-the-bank Baccarat, I love Reidel.   I personally, have never been to someone's house with out breaking a glass.  As it is I can only serve wine in my white wine glasses after losing a few red wine glasses to the rogue colander that flew off the pot rack crashing into a sink.  At the very least a bottle of wine, I can serve  it while I am stuck in the kitchen ramming the 24 roses into a bud vase.   

Happy Holidays                                                                                        

Well Hello Mrs. Robinson, Hello Zac (Efron)

**I am turning into Mrs. Robinson
One day as I am searching through the 300 hundred channels of nothing to watch, I see that High School Musical is on the Disney channel, I DVR it.  The love affair begins.  Not only do I suggest we watch it, I am actually watching it.  Not since the Rob Lowe days in the Brat Pack do I find myself draw to such a hot-tie.  The hot-tie I am referring to is Zac Efron.  I have a 5 1/2 year old daughter that I refer to as "Thing 2".  Her brother who is almost 8 is "Thing 1".  As a dutiful mother I have sat through Barbie in Swan Lake, extensive hours of Dora, and everything princess.  Things have started to change, princesses are soo not cool and Dora is for babies.  Oh, thank God!  Thing 2 totally agrees, Zac is yummalicious.

On a visit to Boris and Natasha’s I find myself wresting an issue of rolling stone away from their youngest daughter, Ethel.  I start off kidding, and then the page is turned to my boy Zac and his exposed nipple, game on.  I now find myself putting Ethel (the 6 year old) in a half Nelson.  There is no way Ethel is going to win.  The kids find this hysterical, they don’t understand, I mean business.  I am holding onto this year old issue of Rolling Stone as if my last breath depended on it.  I don't care if you're cute, little, or really want it.  I need it. 

Does my life depend on it?  Am I holding onto a part of my youth?  I think its just because he is yummy.
Men ogle young women all the time, they even marry them after they have divorced the woman that sacrificed her lower abdomen and her girlie parts for his children.  It has become a norm, acceptable and expected.  Do men get away with it because they don’t have eggs with an expiration date.  Demi is my idol, she nabbed herself a young hot-tie.  Of course everyone comments that she looks sooo good.  As if to say if she wasn’t so fab he would have to be out of his mind.
In the end I still have the copy of Rolling Stone with my boy on the cover, sorry Ethel, you'll understand one day.
Moving forward my "Dear Hubby" (the phrase so many use when referring to their spouse) is "Not Zac".
If anyone out there has access to the preview of High School Musical 3, I (my daughter) would really appreciate it.

"C" is for Cookie

“C” is for Cookie (featuring "Not Zac")

Please read the following with extreme sarcasm as this is real life in the “twilight” zone.  The cookies that are referred to are the nestle tollhouse squares

Not Zac: I want a cookie (bellows the 40-year-old man child)
“Are you making cookies?”

Me:  Yes, of course I am doing it telepathically from the couch.

Not Zac:  Do you want to make cookies?

Me:  Do you want me to make cookies?
Do we have cookies”?

Not Zac:  Yes

Me:  Are they expired?

Not Zac:  Cookies don’t expire, they’re fine.  Expiration dates are about marketing they’re not real.

Me:  Ok, then I guess a quick trip to the ER for salmonella is on the agenda

Not Zac:  It doesn’t have an expiration date.

Me:  Seriously, the packaging is only so big; trust me it has an expiration date. Give it to me.
See right here is says use or freeze before sep 04 2008.

Not Zac:  Well then we have 2 more days, its fine.

Me:  Ok turn on the oven.

Not Zac:  Forget it.  I just go buy a cookie at Barnes and Noble.

Me:  So your telling me that instead of pushing a button on the appliance behind you, you would rather take the elevator down 18 floors, walk across the street, take the escalator to the second floor, wait in line and deal with the minimum wage college student that couldn’t care less, for a cookie, rather than push the button on the oven that is directly behind you.

Not Zac:  Yes

Me:  Do you know how to turn the oven on?

Not Zac:  No

Me:  Push the button to preheat the temp

Not Zac:  Where?

Me:  Where it saves pre heat

Not Zac:  Ok I did it.  Now what?  How does it know what temp it should be?

Me:  Push the arrow buttons up or down

Not Zac:  Where does it tell you the temp?

Me:  Next to the clock

Not Zac:  Ok

Me:  Now take the cookies out of the fridge

Not Zac:  Forget it, I’m done

Me:  Listen, you have to learn sometime. What if the kids want you to make then a cookie?

Not Zac:  I’ll go across the street and buy it.

ENOUGH SAID

How I got here

Well here we go.
I have two kids in private school; sleep away camp, Hebrew school etc. I have been at my current job for almost 8 years. I was co-president of the Parents Auxilliary for 3 years, the hubby referred to it as my full time non paying job.

Life has gotten quite expensive, so now I have to find a new job, one that comes with a paycheck versus the satisfaction of a child’s happiness.
What is a former stay at home Mom with 8 years experience and 8 years out of the job market supposed to do? 

My requirements are as such; can’t start until 9:00 (since I take my kids to school), have to be done by 3:00 (to pick them up), can’t work evenings or weekends, need every holiday off, and of course a million sick days.
This did not leave me with many options that I was qualified for and would fit within my requirements. So after narrowing down the vast opportunities I was left with delivery person or dog walker. Both of which didn’t seem like a great fit especially since I have a degree in Political Science and Interior Design.

As I explain my plight to those who will listen, one day I get an email from my friend Natasha. Natasha and her husband Boris decided that a Blog would be perfect. Sounds great except I really had no idea what exactly it was, except that Tim Gunn writes one for project runway. A billion emails and questions later, here we are.

I would like to dedicate this Blog to my creative team of Natasha and Boris, without their love and support I never would have had the courage to do this. Thanks.
By the way I need to make lots of money so send your friends, thank you in advance.