Category Archives: conversations

December 20, 2009 · 8:19 pm

Never too old to rock n roll but way too old to shovel

My mother in law called this morning, “Don’t you dare shovel”, she said.

Then my mom called, “Please don’t shovel”, she said.

Me? Oh I am a big shot. I LOVE shoveling. The cold crisp air, the dogs running around, the neighbors being all neighborly. Yeh, one big happy group out there shoveling away, throwing balls for the dogs and snowballs with the kids. (note the heartbreakingly adorable picture of my dog)

Well hear me now world. THAT WAS THE LAST TIME I SHOVEL.

Dinner conversation:

Me: I am pretty sure I am having a heart attack.

Gary: Nah, I am pretty sure you pulled a muscle, that is what manual labor feels like.

Me: What do you know from manual labor? Tennis is NOT manual labor.

Danny: He uses the leaf blower.

Me: (after 20 years of refusing to agree to this) Ok, go buy a snowblower. And make sure it is a big-ass one and gas powered.

I suppose there are times in all our lives where we have to start to realize our limitations and adjust our behaviors. I can rock n roll with the best of them, but the snow shoveling, not so much. And hey, it’s not like giving up something that is all that pleasurable.

Now you will excuse me while I go crawl up to bed with my cardiologist on speed dial (just in case).

(kidding moms! seriously that was just for effect. i am fine, really)

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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December 17, 2009 · 9:48 pm

All thumbs

Texting, or BBMing (blackberry messenger texting) is the way many of us communicate these days. It is not only the kids that converse this way, now many adults do as well. The keyboard-based phones have revolutionized the speed in which we can now get our message out. Back in the day of traditional cell phones (jeez, that does sound ridiculous) we were forced to spell things painstakingly with triple keystrokes to get the correct letters out. The full keyboards have eliminated that awkwardness and helped us to type out error free, coherent messages.

Well, most of us.

Every crowd has one. The person who loves to converse in BBM and does so regularly. That person is sensitive, completely in touch, a responsible friend and the worst damn thumb typist on the face of the earth. Many try to understand her messages but few can decode the nonsense that rolls off her fingertips and out into the BBMosphere. I have gotten pretty good at looking at the letters on the keyboard next to the ones that have been typed to try to decipher her messages.

Oh, honey, you know who you are, and so do all your friends. But we love you just the same.

Full disclosure, I asked permission to write this and she is a damn good sport.

To give you an example of how funny things can with a friend like this, here are a few examples that happened during a not so funny time in her life this week.

First, she bbmd her husband who was picking up her daughter at college with an urgent message. He looked at it. Looked at it again. Then handed it to his daughter and said, “Can you tell what she is trying to say here.” The daughter’s response was, “Hmmm, there really is no way to tell.”

Later that day she sent me a message about her son having to have some unpleasant test while in the emergency room. Here was our exact conversation:

Me: Ew at 50. Ewwwwwww, kill me now at 14.

Her: That’s what linda said

Me: Who the hell is linda?

Her: Long Nails

Me: Linda long nails?

Her: no I mean that is what he kinda said. my nails are long for typing

Me: OMG, I thought the nurse giving him the test was named Linda and she had long nails.

I am happy to report her son is now ok. But during the afternoon we did get to talk about ‘ibtestines’, i found out that ‘whabdoesnt kill u makes us stronger’ and she shared that nails were a mess because she had ‘missee her monicrd’.

Yeh, well, better to be all thumbs than tongue tied, right?

Wishing a speedy recovery to a 14 year old who is a reeeallly, reeeallly good sport!

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visitLeaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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December 13, 2009 · 9:09 pm

Where there is smoke, there is fire – a study in human nature.

Scenario: Driving to New Jersey with friends to see a concert.

Location: Grand Central Parkway Westbound

Incident: tons of traffic on the Eastbound side, lots of smoke and then we see an SUV smoking and starting to flame on the shoulder.

Conversation:

Husband 1: Wow, looks like that just happened.

Me: We should call 911.

Husband 1: Nah, somebody else will call.

Husband 2: Ah, forget it, that guy is already toast. Looks like it’s gonna blow.

Other wife: (while dialing 911) Are you guys kidding me?!

Scary part is that the 911 operator was so dimwitted there is a good chance that car had blown before she could understand what between exits 5 and 6 meant, had to take my friend’s cell number (more than once) and then asked if she wanted to be connected to the Fire Dept. By then we were already over the Triboro bridge.

Yikes.

So, here is another poll. Are you the someone else will call guy, the he’s already a goner guy or the 911 chick?

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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December 9, 2009 · 8:47 pm

Facebook Invitations – how far will they go?

If you are on Facebook I am sure you have friends who are users of these ridiculous (anti)social requests and invitations. I get them all the time. There is no end to the senseless applications that people use to try to socialize. Hey, you want to chat, comment on my status, send me a link? Great, I love to connect with old friends as well as new. But these hideous applications: ismile, farmville, mafia wars and now the one that surely crosses the line…

a feel your boobies invitation.

No, I did not make this one up. That graphic up there is an actual screen grab. Not gonna lie, it had me laughing.

It all started with my crazy HS friend whose Facebook status the other day was:

Listen I hate Farming and to join another family in Mafia wars would be crazy cause I cant handle my own.. SoooooooThe answer is NO.

The comments on this thread started to get really funny when she wrote:

I just got a” feel your boobies” request…has the whole freakin face book world gone mad…I kinda wanna say yes to see how they’re gonna pull this one off.

Hard to keep reading as I was laughing so hard. Then came this response from another HS friend:

would you please open your back door. I’VE BEEN OUT HERE KNOCKING ALL DAY!

and yet another:

OK so this form of fun is so much better than farming, mafia and so on. Let me know if your boobs get a rub down  as perhaps there are other feels out there!

So of course she sent me the request because I had to check it out. I am happy to report that not only is this application not porn (sorry guys, I know you were getting into this), but it is actually a breast cancer awareness foundation called, you guessed it, Feel Your Boobies, to promote self examination.

You can read about the app here and the join the facebook group here. Although I think this is a great program and I love the edge, it is unfortunate that at first glance on Facebook this was considered offensive or at best fodder for jokes. If I were not inquisitive and/or a student of social media I probably would have made fun of it, hit ignore and forgotton about it.

So, for my social media friends, was the use of Facebook for this program edgy or a fail? I am not sure where I weigh in on this. Again, being a lover of polls, let’s take a vote.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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November 7, 2009 · 6:41 pm

That Dress is a Hawt Attack!

I have written about how much I loathe shopping. Much of what I dislike about local shopping here on the Gold Coast is the interaction with the sales help. I don’t like anyone get all up in my business when I am trying things on. Face it, most of us know what works on us and what doesn’t. We surely don’t need a salesperson to talk us into something with false flattery.

For better or worse, I have passed this distaste for shopping on to my daughter. Lucky for her she is walking around in a 20-year-old body so things are a bit easier, but still, how many women look in the mirror and are completely satisfied?

I bring this story up today because I was driving around and for some reason remembered this day and I laughed out loud. Jana and I were shopping for the Junior Prom and we made the huge mistake of going into one of the stores that I refer to affectionately as the Belly of the Beast. It sits in the center of a quaint little town nearby where unfortunately most of the women are cranky. Why? Because, as my friend Karen always says, “THEY ARE HUNGRY!”

From the moment we stepped into the shop we knew we were screwed. The racks were laden with bejeweled and bespangled dresses that were overpriced and lacking in taste. We were not there 2 minutes before a young woman came out of the dressing room and the saleswoman, who had a raspy, loud, cliché of a Long Island accent, shouted so that she could be heard somewhere in the midwest, “Oh my Gawd that dress is a hawt attack on you! A hawt attack I tell you.” Turning to the other women in the store she repeated, “Is this dress not a hawt attack on huh?” She gave the term Drop Dead Dress a whole new meaning.

Jana and I took one look at each other, turned, walked out the door and burst out laughing on the street. To this day when I pass that shop I can still hear the ghost of shopping days past in that smoker’s voice filled with gravel shouting, “A hawt attack, I tell ya, simply a hawt attack!”

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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October 28, 2009 · 7:39 pm

Zaidie was right!

steely_dan-can_t_buy_a_thrill-big

I have been sitting on this story for the past few days wondering if it was a good idea to share with you all how crazy my family truly is. And then I figured if I have not scared you off yet, this one will entertain you.

The players:

Gram: my mom

Zaidie: my dad

Danny: my son

Gary: my husband

Me: me

(phone rings)

Me: Hello

Gram: Hi. Hey do you know what Steely Dan is.

Me: Sure, mom, it’s a band

Gram: No, I know it is a band. We were just listening to them. But do you know where the name came from.

Me: Um, no. Gary, do you know where the name Steely Dan came from?

Gary: (funny grin, then makes the universal hand signal for a boner)

Me: Really?! Ok, mom, Gary says it’s a boner.

Gram: A boner, nope. Dad said it is a metal dildo.

Ok, so let me interject here for a minute. My mom is 78! And she has always been rather proper. So I am going to say it is a safe bet that I have never heard her say ‘dildo’ before. Surely not ‘metal dildo’ (ouch, BTW)

Danny: (from downstairs) WHAT are you guys talking about?!

Me: Zaidie says that a Steely Dan is a metal dildo but Dad says it is a boner.

Danny: Oh Jeez!

Me: Danny, can you google it please.

a moment passes and then…

Danny: Hey Zaidie was right, it is a metal dildo. Sometimes 2-headed. Ew, I cannot believe I am having this conversation with my parents and grandparents (I believe that was paraphrased)

Seriously, don’t you think that hearing your 17-year-old son say, “Zaidie was right, it’s a metal dildo.” is somehow crossing the line?

Yeh, well, it will all come out on the couch.

FYI, here are may favorite definitions from urbandictionary. com:

1) proper name of a steam powered dildo from the novel Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs.

STEAM POWERED?!! ouch! and this one:

2) A Massive Metal dildo, sometimes double-headed.

Yeh, well that will surely fuel a nice little therapy session for my son in his future.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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September 29, 2009 · 8:17 pm

My true love of AAA

501px-AAA_logo.svg

I have been a AAA member on and off for many years. There is something comforting about knowing that you can have roadside assistance wherever you may be.

Hmmm, define ‘assistance’.

I have never called them before yesterday, and honestly I use the membership more for hotel discounts than anything else. I first called to rescue the keys from the trunk of the car. That went quite well, less than an hour and I was good to go.

Then, as if Mercury in Retrograde had not wreaked enough havoc with my family in the last however much time it has been wreaking, we were faced with an unfortunate blow out.

In the rain.

In the dark.

Again, I pulled out my trusty AAA card and gave them a ring, telling them it is hard to believe but I need their assistance for a second time that evening. A very polite women gets all my info, gives me a code # and sympathizes with my bad day. She was lovely. Everything is fine until…

Husband decides to change the tire.

In the rain(ish).

In the dark.

In a SUIT!

Screaming. Yelling. Name calling. Yadayadayada, I called back AAA and canceled the request. I will spare you the details of the need for a second round of calling and canceling, but you can imagine how angry I was by then. Telling the woman the story she says, “Now Amy, if you run him over with your car you will go to jail for a long time. Just withhold dinner for a few weeks.” I surely thought she would tell me to withhold something else.

After all this I decided  what I think the true definition of ‘assistance’ is:

When you are so angry you are considering spousal homicide, they talk you down.

All kidding aside, I cannot say enough good things about AAA, their service and their helpful and rather funny employees. You guys rock. I also want to thank you for not suspending my membership for too many calls in one day.

I would imagine you must have some kind of cry wolf clause in your contract, no?

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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September 27, 2009 · 9:52 pm

I’d Rather Starve

Actual conversation:

Me: Just wanted to touch base with you because I will be out of the office on Monday for the Jewish Holiday.

Client: I am so jealous.

Me: Yeh, well, we have to starve.

Client: I would rather starve than go to work.

I am pretty sure this person was kidding as I know she loves her job, but it was funny anyway.

For those who are, have an easy fast. For those who aren’t, have a cheeseburger.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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September 6, 2009 · 10:29 pm

Attractively Belligerent

Actual phone call with a friend on Friday Morning:

Me: Is it too early to drink?

Him: Hmmm, 9:30 am. Maybe a Sombrero, you know, something with Kalhua in it to have that coffee thing. On second thought I am sorry, I would say that you would have to acknowledge that you have a problem if you did.

Me: Yeh, I was afraid of that. And if YOU say it is too early to drink then I know it is.

Him: I suppose. So what is wrong that you need a drink at 9:30 in the morning?

Me: Nothing, just a trying work week.

Conversation continues and I suppose I had just a bit more of an edge than usual.

Him: You are a bit belligerent today.

Me: Oh no, really?

Him: Yes, but attractively billigerent.

And that, my friends, is true friendship! (thanks Dave)

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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September 2, 2009 · 9:00 pm

kovics, renkas and povas, oh my!

tennis-ball

Where are all the American women in tennis?! (sans Williams squared, of course).

What, you say? Could Amy actually be writing about tennis? From the basement, no less?

Listen folks, I may not play tennis but I am surely surrounded by it. My husband and dearest friends play. A good chunk of my disposable income goes to all things tennis-related in order to keep Gary from jumping off the 59th Street Bridge, and it’s the first week in September in NY, so not paying attention to the US Open is like living under a rock.

We were discussing the women of the Open over dessert tonight (ok, so it was not just Gary and I, my in-laws and a neighbor were here) and it came to my attention that American women do not play tennis.

What?!! In my zip code I am looked at like I have 3 heads because I don’t swing a racquet. I guess they meant professionally.

I took a little spin over to the US Open official website and what I found was, nestled around the Williams sisters in the top 5 seeded positions were: Safina, Barrois, Czink, Rybarikova, Dementieva, Oudin, Jankovic and Shvedova.

That is way too many consonants for this Jew to pronounce. And the rest of the list was equally non-American.

So tell me, tennis women of America (or at least Jo), if there are so many women playing recreational tennis here, why do we not have women playing professionally.

Just asking.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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