Lady and the Tramp

I rarely blog (if ever--okay all the time--pretty much every third post) about our ever-expanding menagerie of animals. Yes, our terrier mix Fargo has an occasional (and in the case of yesterday--ferocious) accident in her crate. Our pug Lulu has constant demands for attention. And, it seems there is always a fish or two in some sort of crisis where we wonder if they are "okay."

This weekend, however, we realized that we had crossed a line and we may never be able to go back. On a dreary, rainy Saturday morning, Shlomo and I were up and out of the house at 8:00 a.m. to drive 30-something miles to a bird show. Rumor had it that there would be the ever-elusive female Red-Faced Parrot finch there. Now, you would think that someone who left at 8:00 on a Saturday would be first in line, right? Wrong. We were second.

Luckily, we were able to procure said rarity in the finch world. Our sweet little girl (named Merlot) was boxed up and we drove her home to join Pinot (her male counterpart) and the 12 other finches in our small aviary.

We have added new birds before. They fly out of the box, look around for a minute or two...and are part of the community. Not this time. Upon flying out of the box, Merlot was immediately spotted by Pinot. I think I can best describe his reaction as saying it was like he was just released from prison and discovered that Eva Longoria was his parole officer. He was on her like, well, stink on shit. Merlot, after thirty minutes no longer looked like the pretty little bird we had brought home. She was tattered and tired. In fact, I am pretty sure Jodie Foster could have based her performance in The Accused on their first few minutes together.

Now that a couple of days have passed, he seems to be leaving her alone. However, they are constantly at each other's side. Our only hope now is that the nesting process will begin. Keep in mind, we have no idea what we would do with baby birds, but it has already been established that we are nerds and will figure that out when the time comes.

Stuffed.

The turkey is turkeyed. The yams are yammed. The casseroles are casseroled. And, the pies are pied. 8 hours of cooking for one meal. Yes, it's one good meal. But, is it REALLY worth it? In the end, I say yes. Shlomo's kids seem to really enjoy it. Their bragging does not stop. Shlomo himself brags on my cooking. He should. He does not cook, but thinks he can tell me every step to make.

Note to Shlomo: This is how it works. In my kitchen (like in the kitchen of my mother), there is one chef. That is me. If you want to make something, I am happy for you to. I don't have to do it all, but you don't cook (scrambled eggs, aside). Please, keep me company. I love to spend time with you. However, I pretty much know how to do whatever it is that I am doing. Telling me that it is not the way you have had something does not help me. If you ask for something, I go about finding the best way to make it (which might, just might, be different from the way you have had it in the past). Please forgive me when I lose my temper in the kitchen. It is hard work in there. It is work I enjoy, but it is still hard work.

Aside from my necessary note/apology, it was a great holiday. It is always fun to see Shlomo's kids. Their constant bickering is still funny. Exhausting, but funny. Six people, one turkey, steaks, 8 pounds of yams, a double recipe of broccoli rice casserole, 24 rolls, and three pies...how could it not be a great meal?

To my dozen (Please, God, let it be a dozen!) of readers, I hope you too had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Now, we are all onto the rest of the holiday season. It's time to pray for good weather and no "Noreasters." Otherwise, I might miss Die Mommie! Die! on stage. That would be a holiday tragedy.

Turkey Trot

So Shlomo and I had to do our pre-Thanksgiving grocery shopping last night. That is never fun. The one saving grace, I heard Irene Cara singing "Breakdancing" over the loud speaker. That is so 1984. But, of course, I could not help but sing along. Happy Thanksgiving!

A Made-for-Lifetime Movie

As much as I hate to admit it, I might get caught up in the occasional movie on Lifetime...Television for Women and Gay Men. Okay, I might have recently downloaded "The Mermaid Chair" to my iPod. (Seriously, did you know you can do that for around $4? It is the greatest thing ever!) Anyway, I have seen so many of them that I know I could write one. Of course, none could ever parallel Tori Spelling in either "Mother, May I Sleep With Danger" or "Co-Ed Call Girl."

Still, Shlomo had a brilliant casting idea for one...and, running with Shlomo's idea, I have decided that I (or someone) should write a Lifetime movie where Linda Gray and Lisa Rinna play mother and daughter. No one plays boozy better than Sue Ellen, so I think it should be called "Drinking With My Daughter" or "The Irish Lass" or "Pubs 'N Hubs." The last one could also feature Larry Hagman and Harry Hamlin as the spouses.

I am not sure what the plot will be, but I can assure you there will be drinking involved. Maybe some AA meetings, an intervention, and of course a tearful reunion. All recipes should be so simple.

Concerns of the Moment

• The finch collection now stands at 11. I think we are four away from our magic number. We are seriously out of control, but they are so pretty and fun to watch. As of now, all have stayed in the cage.
• Another stressful moment in NYC...the Broadway stagehands are on strike. It should not affect us greatly in December as only one of the six (that's right SIX!) shows we are planning to see is shut down. The issue is that the show is our favorite Spring Awakening. We have front-row seats. They better get this strike resolved.
• Slightly stressed about Dancing With the Stars this week? Who will be voted off? Who will it be? These things keep me up at night. Sad, I know.
• Thanksgiving is next week. How did that happen? Seems like we just had Labor Day.
• Elisabeth Hasselbeck had her baby. Please let this be one long maternity leave.
• Still loving Reese and Jake as a couple.
• Thank goodness JLo announced her pregnancy. I have never been so shocked.

Lambo in Limbo!

I know it seems that I only use this blog to kvetch about my shipping nightmares. However, my frustration with FedEx is at an all-time high. Lambo was shipped international priority from Jerusalem last Wednesday with a scheduled arrival on Friday of last week. There was a customs issue so its delivery was delayed until it was resolved. The issue was resolved on Friday and we were assured delivery on Monday (today!).

Over the weekend I casually (okay, obsessively) checked their website. It is in Houston. The only problem is it says "Package not due for delivery." Shlomo and I have now called their hotline four times. We have received the runaround four times. The first two calls, we were assured delivery today. Now, who knows.

I hate FedEx. And, don't even get me started on UPS. Just give us our sheep! The spot over the mantle is all cleared.

****************************UPDATE**************************

Shortly after the woman at FedEx told Shlomo that it would be hours before she knew anything more because it was en route from Houston to Sugarland (a suburb in the wrong direction), it was delivered to his office. I would take back every bad thing I said about FedEx, but those things are still valid. UGH!

Houston, We Have a Problem!

What a morning! I am at work...happily going about my business (okay reading the gossip columns on-line)...when I get a very dreaded email (that quite frankly I hope none of you ever receive). Telecharge sent an email to inform me that the Off-Broadway showing of Die, Mommie Die! which Shlomo and I had purchased tickets is cancelled. Of course, they would be happy to reschedule us for another showing.

Here's the deal. We had six shows scheduled for five days. Everyone knows that the theatre is dead on Monday, so you do the math. All I needed was to find another show that was playing at 10:00 on Saturday night and I would be set. There are no other shows playing at that time. That is why we had our tickets then...it did not interfere with the other shows we wanted to see.

We booked it at 3:00 on Saturday. My nerves about this exist on many levels. Our flight gets into La Guardia at 12:22. That gives us 2 and a half hours to go to baggage claim (I cannot do five days in New York in December and not check a bag...impossible!), hail a taxi into Manhattan, check into the hotel, grab a bite to eat, and be at the theatre. Shlomo is not the least bit worried. I say mark your calendar now. A blizzard will hit NYC on Friday, November 30.

I know that in the whole scheme of life this is not a real problem. No one is really hurt or dying...unless you count our good friends at Continental airlines if that flight is late.

A Good Day Goes Bad

Shlomo is out of town. (That's right, OM, he is in Phoenix until Friday.) I was doing fine dealing with this. I made an appointment for a massage and was all set to watch Private Practice and Dirty Sexy Money tonight. Quelle nightmare. Private Practice and Dirty Sexy Money will not be seen tonight so that ABC may bring you a special presentation of the stupid-ass Country Music Awards.

This perfectly good day now sucks. I am off to drown my sorrows in a bag of Twizzlers.

The Grammar of Rasp

Everyone has certain stories from their childhood that have become the "classics" of their lives. One of my favorites is when my brother Rasp was in the 5th grade or so. He was called on to conjugate "to think" into its past and past particple tenses. Rasp paused for a moment (or at least I imagine he did) and responded, "Think, Thank, Thunk." When you see the title of my new link section, you will now know why.

Sadly, his grammar has not improved much with age. I can say that. I wrote every paper he ever turned in. My wardrobe at the time was much better for my efforts.

Fly, Little Birdie, Fly!

I think I have vaguely mentioned before that Shlomo and I have finches. (It's kind of a long story as to how we got them, but the short version is that he wanted a kitten and I said how about some finches instead.) Currently, we have five in our expanding brood.

Earlier this week, we got a fantastic antique cage to house them in. It's very large (4 feet by 7 feet including stand...or so) and will house at least a dozen birds. I will post a picture of it at some point. On Monday night, we set up the new cage and moved the birds over. This went off without incident.

I think you are seeing where I am going with this. Last night, Shlomo had a meeting at the temple. One of the wicker nesting boxes was crooked in the cage and really bugging me. I took it upon myself to fix this eyesore. No problema...right? Wrong. I get a chair to stand in so I can open one of the little doors at the top of the cage. I climb onto said chair. I open the door, stick my arm in start adjusting the nesting box.

Finches are not like parakeets which you tame and walk around with them on your shoulder. They maintain their wildness. The fun in having them is to observe them in their habitat and admire their beauty. Arm in cage results in a fluttering of finches. The next thing I knew, little Kate or Spence (we cannot tell them apart) was fluttering around the hallway...outside the cage.

I tried to remain calm. (Tried: operative word.) I swear while standing in the chair, I almost plucked that thing from the sky, but shockingly the little bird was too fast for my slightly overweight self. Then, a potential miracle happened. It flew from the open hallway (which opens to the floors above and below) into the study. I leapt (although not in split leap fashion as it plays out in my mind) from the chair and rushed down the hallway to close the door thereby confining it to one room.

I gathered the net and was off to catch my bird. I crept into the room...looking around...determined to find my prey. Nothing. I could not find her. Then, I saw her...perched atop the ugly (sorry, Shlomo) faux bamboo tree. I casually walked in her direction. She took off across the room. Again, I sauntered to the other side. She took flight again. In disgust, I swung the net in the air in her direction. She disappeared. Much to my surprise, she was in the net.

I promptly took her to the W.C. (the smallest room I could think of), removed her from the net and returned her to the cage. I battled the bird and lived to tell the tale. I felt like a badass. If I believed in the slaughter of innocent animals, I would totally go hunting this weekend. Prey is nothing when I am on a mission. It should live in fear. Since I don't hunt, I will probably just buy a few more birds to fill the new cage.

Addict...Schmadddict

On the return flights from Israel, I started Peggy Guggenheim's (yes, those Guggenheims) autobiography Confessions of an Art Addict. It is so bizarre to read someone matter of factly say something to the effect of, "I decided to buy a painting a day to start my museum." (It might not be a direct quote, but it's damn close.) Since I mostly slept on the flights back, I am still reading the book which is kind of embarassing because it is less than 200 pages.

To make the story a bit more personal (possibly too personal), the book wound up where almost all books that I read eventually wind up...the bathroom. So as I am getting ready yesterday morning, I hear Shlomo from the W.C...."Sweetie," he questioned, "Are we art addicts?" I am not saying we are...and I am not saying we are not. I am saying that you have read the blog and seen pictures of recent purchases. We (meaning he) declared we were done long ago with art purchases. I have a feeling you have not seen the last of said purchases.

Well, it could be worse. I used to be addicted to soap operas. Should Genie Francis come back to General Hospital, I probably could be again. Soap operas are cheaper than art...maybe that would not be a bad thing.

On the 6

Okay, on her blog http://www.trishamatalynn.blogspot.com/, OM tagged me to list six things that you do not know about me or that are at least interesting. This is hard as I think I am kind of boring, but here goes...

1. If you ask me my favorite book, I would say East of Eden by John Steinbeck because it is a book I love and it sounds like you have to be pretty smart to read it. Actual favorite book: Dazzle by Judith Krantz. What can I say? I love all that Hollywood glamour. I have probably read it 10 times. It made me want to be a celebrity photographer. Hell, I still want to be a celebrity photographer. I suck at taking pictures. Speaking of Ms. Krantz, I wish she would write another book. It's been a while.
2. I have a huge fear of public nudity...not just my own...anyone's. I don't think I can really expand on that much further. Why can burkas not be fashionable for Jewish guys? Needless to say, I will not be going to see Naked Boys Singing when I am in NYC next month.
3. My dog Lulu is named after the only doll I was allowed to have as a little boy. She was a hand-me-down from my female cousin who is 9 years older than I. She had no clothes, a mass of matted blonde hair, and only one eye closed. I loved her.
4. I claim to love to cook. I actually love to cook. It's not a lie. Yet, I have not prepared a home-cooked meal in months. In fact, two burners on the stove do not even work. We have got to call a repair man...sometime in the next year or so.
5. I ate red meat about a year ago. (I have not eaten it for about 12 years.) We were at a cocktail party...the drinks were strong, all the food had flour (which I could not eat at the time) except the tamales. I had to sober up before dinner, so I ate a couple. I am not proud of this. And, my stomach was messed up for days. Damn my lightweight drinking.
6. I cannot stand Star Jones. However, I am oddly compelled to watch her and even went to her wedding website one time. One time? Who am I trying to kid? I had it bookmarked.

That's about it. I am supposed to tag blog buddies to do this. I really don't have blog buddies yet. I don't even know if I have six readers. If you feel compelled, post your six things in the comments section.

I'm Baaaack

Jet lag is hell. I am not going to lie to you. It is. I slept 10 hours last night and can still barely keep my eyes open. The trip was phenomenal. I promise to post details and pictures. However, it will take a few days for me to actually be organized enough to actually do that.

Okay, so I am gone for two weeks and Dancing With The Stars goes to hell in a handbasket. Marie faints. Jane has food poisoning. And, that Cheetah Girl is voted off...WTF America!?!?! WTF!?!?!

So Shlomo and I took it upon ourselves to boost the Israeli economy. We were definitely out of control. For example, this painting will soon be hanging over our mantle. I have named it "Lambo" after our pug Lulu's favorite toy. The artist is a famous Israeli painter/sculptor known for his paintings of sheep. This is just the tip of the iceberg...cufflinks...menorahs...Shabbat candlesticks...antique ivory tusks...we were seriously out of control.

I guess I should try to get some actual work done. I promise photos and details of the trip. I just need to recover slightly.