Believe it or not, this van has been parked around the corner from my house for years and I have never thought to take a picture of it. I am sure the first time I saw it I was amused, but it became one of those weird things that are commonplace with routine. Still, not your average sight in a sleepy suburban town.
Now that I decided to make this my New Year’s post I had to give it some more thought.
I can’t help but wonder what the inside of this vehicle looks like. There are some makeshift curtains on the side windows. It looks like it was a school mini-bus in its first life which seems quite fitting. Not sure about the rack on the back, or is that apparatus used to keep the back doors bolted shut, like once you get inside you are not leaving so fast? Hmm, creepy.
What goes on in there? Is it piled high with German literature? What sort of weird activities could take place while driving around in a Kafka van? Do the occupants speak in run on sentences? Is there a sense of hopelessness when seated behind the wheel? Do other people think these things when driving by the Kafka van or is it just me?
I visited our dear friend Wikipedia and found out that good ol’ Franzy boy was an insurance man by profession. Not sure if that fits his aura, but hey, everyone has to make a living.
Here’s one more little interesting Wikifact about Kafka:
Prior to his death, Kafka wrote to his friend and literary executorMax Brod: “Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me … in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others’), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread.” Brod overrode Kafka’s wishes, believing that Kafka had given these directions to him specifically because Kafka knew he would not honor them—Brod had told him as much.
So, which one of you do I ‘assign’ the deleting (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) of all my blog posts upon my demise?
You will have to excuse me now as I need to go drive around and see if I can find where the Fellini convertible is parked.
3. what can i eat after botox Ok, this one killed me. Listen, if you already thinking about eating right after botox chances are you will not receive the full benefits of any kinds of plastic surgery. How about changing your habits?
2. doctor oddities I worry about doctors with oddities and why anyone would continue to see them
1. don’t have time for this No time for this? Perhaps crying. Well just in case I linked this to the last Time to Cry Tuesday because it is a personal fave. Just a tip out there, if you use the phrase, “don’t have time for this” you are probably the type of person who most needs to make the time. Whatever ‘this’ may be.
Happy New Year’s to one and all. Have fun. Stay safe. And try, for at least tonight, to let it all go and just have some plain old fun.
Well friends, here we are; the final Time to Cry Tuesday of the year. In light of the insane place we have found the world at the close of 2008 I have thought a lot about where we are and how our collective Mojo has faired through the turmoil.
Ah, Mojo. How do you describe its essence?
First, to quote Wikipedia (who did we quote before Wikipedia?) Mojo is a term commonly encountered in the African-American folk belief called hoodoo. A mojo is a type of magiccharm…
My kids’ favorite Mojo reference is from Austin Powers when Dr. Evil steals his mojo.
To me, your Mojo is what gets you up in the morning and drags your sorry ass through the day making sure that you have at least a few good laughs and meaningful moments during the ride. Mojo is that faint little smile when you remember someone or something that rang your bell, made you FEEL, gave you full technicolor. Mojo, in short, is the joy in life. The fuel to your passions. It is simply put, what makes you YOU.
What is my concern about our collective Mojo? Well, it simply can’t be healthy to wake up every day to the news of the collapse of the business du jour. Banks, auto companies, retailers, ALL those people and charities who drank the Madoff kool-aid. When does it stop and how do we manage it? Do we all swallow on big fat proverbial Xanax and suck this all up till the world shifts back?
Nope, it is like anything else, you just have to deal.
For me, when you lose your Mojo you lose your soul; the part of you that makes it worth being alive. In the face of whatever bad news or challenging circumstance you find yourself, it is that part of you so deep down and real that NOTHING can destroy. Oh, it might get some scars. And it will surely sag a bit and gray with age. But your Mojo, it is yours.
200? Gee, she really doesn’t look a day over 170. Must be the botox.
THIS is my 200th post! How bicentennial. How anticlimactic. It falls on the Monday between Christmas and New Year’s when we are all in this food induced coma. A Twitter friend said the other day that she was one shower short of being classified as a bag lady. So, there are others staying in pajamas till 3 or 4 in the afternoon? That is comforting. I think.
I am usually the multi-tasking lunatic who lives to get things accomplished and cross them off her list. Ah, over-achievers are over-rated!
Now I have become addicted to Brickbreaker on my Blackberry which, by the way, I did not even know I had until my son pointed it out to me. Now a great achievement for me is to beat my highest score, which I do not think is all that impressive but I don’t know any better so don’t burst my bubble (Jana this means you because I know you have to be way better at this than I am).
Funny thing is that I have not even taken the time off this season. Just so happens that a few jobs have come up that have caused me to have to work through part of the weekend. Even having accomplished that I still feel like a slug. (could be the sweatpants).
So my 100th post was all philosophical and take the world by the balls and my 200th is kind of like the honeymoon’s over and it is cool to blog in my ‘jamas and talk about nothing. Oh right, I talk about nothing most of the time. But entertaining nothing.
Whatever, all birthdays are not created equal. Or is that animals? I am leaning towards some Orwellian thoughts here… or lunacy. How can I tell the difference? (hey, check out that Orwell link, did you know his birth name was Eric Arthur Blair?!)
I digress. Or perhaps this whole post is one long digression. Are you still with me here?
No worries, tomorrow will be Time to Cry Tuesday followed by a monthly fave on Wednesday, the search terms wrap up.
You know, 200 is not so bad. I mean really, what’s the alternative? ; )
I ran out to the market tonight to pick up a few things at an odd hour, 5:00 on a Saturday. And there she was, this magnificent mom with two equally beautiful children. They were all really breathtaking. She looked oddly familiar in a movie star sort of way but I doubt it. Just another well-healed North Shore Long Island women over-dressed for the supermarket.
But here’s the thing, she was a total bitch to her kids. Believe me, I have seen kids misbehave in a supermarket, sometimes even those of my loins. These two kids were not acting out, maybe being a little ‘overly helpful’ but certainly not worthy of reprimand. But the skinny bitch pretty mom? She did not have a shred of patience for them. To the point were she sent the little boy out to the parking lot to wait for them. (nice judgement, no?)
Tonight was our big fat Italian Christmas, except there was no one fat and not all that many Italians come to think of it. In fact most of us were Jews. Except our hostess whose holiday dinners have become the most coveted invite in the zip code. Every one of the guests was scheming how to secure a place at the table for next year. Except for us, of course, we are a lock AND we can bring the dog.
After dinner some of us got into a philosophical discussion about our expectations for the coming year that included much spiritual conversation. One friend brought up the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, an art exhibit in Chelsea. My first reaction was, oh no, an exhibit that will not only reveal inner secrets, but back fat as well. Not sure I need to go there.
Seriously, it does sound kind of cool. Here is a quick description from the website:
The Sacred Mirrors series is a totally unique work of contemporary sacred art created by Alex Grey. This installation of 21 framed images, consisting of 19 paintings and two etched mirrors, examines the anatomy of body, mind and spirit in rich detail. Each painting presents a life-sized figure facing viewers and inviting them to mirror the images, creating a sense of seeing into oneself.
Ok, so maybe I can lose the narcissistic fear of back fat and I will check this out. This is the line that got me:
The Sacred Mirrors dramatically reveal the miracle of life’s evolutionary complexity, the unity of human experience across all racial, class and gender divides, and the astonishing vistas of possibility inherent in human consciousness.
Pretty tall order to ignore. For those interested, the show closes on New Year’s Eve. Surely let me know if you visit.
There is a long standing custom amongst American Jews to eat chinese food and go to the movies on Christmas. We, however, have broken tradition and celebrate Hannukah tonight with the in-law sibs. (the picture above is from the bro-in-laws terrace. not a bad spot, huh?)
We had a traditional Hannukah dinner of…
Steamed lobsters and clams.
Wait, not so kosher right? But they were delish. And for the vegetarians amongst us we ordered the chinese food so as not to seem like we were straying too far from the norm.
Tomorrow, our big fat Italian christmas with the best skinny girl cook in the zip code, Joanne. Can’t wait.
Seen in the waiting room of an ob/gyn’s office today:
Young man with spiky hair and his girlfriend wearing ripped leggings. He was carrying a copy of Puppies for Dummies. Should we not be concerned that this couple was breeding?
Old Orthodox Jewish man with long white beard and black hat sitting in a chair next to… a teddy bear.
Dr. Phil! What is up with these friggin’ people? Why would you do this on National TV? Are they for real with all this crying and airing of their personal business for the whole world to witness. (hmmm, sounds like some popular mommy blogs we know, does it not?)
News promo, “Baby Jesus returned to manger in Babylon… Town Mall (for non-locals, Babylon is suburb of NYC)
A plate of garlic knots at the receptionist’s window where there would normally be a basket of hard candy. What is up with that?(fyi, spiky haired man asked his girlfriend if she wanted one because it would make her breath ‘taste’ real bad! this sounds like something Napoleon Dynamite would say.)
That about sums it up folks.
Does everyone encounter these kinds of oddities in their day or is it just me?
Before I start this post check this out! One of my 50-something moms posts was picked up by the Fresno Bee! (ok, so it’s not the NYT but it’s a start)
This Time to Cry Tuesday mixes things up a bit and starts with a laugh. For those who are regular readers, you have heard mention of Gary’s toddler dance more than once.
Now don’t get all excited out there (especially you MizLiz, as I know you are dying to see it), this video does not feature Gary. But it does star our kids who named this dance and hold it close to their hearts. So without any further ado, I bring you The Toddler Dance by Danny and Jana.
Where is the time to cry piece, you ask? No worries. A good friend once told me it is good to both laugh and cry every day, then you know you have lived your day to its fullest.
Family. Some cringe at the word, break out in hives, get indigestion, run for cover. Especially this time of year with all the forced reunions and pressure to celebrate. Me? There is nothing more important. I was raised this way, it is in my blood. And I am fortunate enough to be able to say that when I hear the word family I am happy.
There is no feeling greater for a parent of a college student than the moment before they close their eyes and know that everyone is in their own beds under one roof. These times become more rare and increasingly precious. My kids may roll their eyes when I get this way – certainly Danny does because he has not left yet – but I know that in their hearts they feel the same way.
It is a tough world out there, and we as a society are facing very scary realities. But when you sit at a dinner table with your whole family and can laugh and enjoy simply being together, the world out there seems a little easier to face.
Thanks kids, for humoring me. Oh and being the first video on my great new Hannukah present…
a Flip Video camera.
How did daddy know I wanted this? Oh right, because I only mentioned it 1,000 times.
I came across this sign in one of my favorite eateries in the Flatiron District, The City Bakery.
This sign struck me as being sort of silly. Humanely raised before we slaughter you and slap you on a piece of bread with gruyere. Is part of the humane treatment to avoid humiliation by being paired with a pedestrian cheese like ordinary american?