Thank Heaven...for Little Girls

Those words were very famously sung by Maurice Chevalier about the title character in the movie musical Gigi. For some reason, they had a profound effect on Shlomo. For months (possibly years), we have joked about the possibility of our next dog--probably a yorkiepoo or a maltipoo--to be named Gigi. Joining a little mutt named Fargo and a pug named Lulu, I decided that Gigi sounded too gay...even for us. Therefore, I have always rejected the name Gigi.

Well, I have a midterm tomorrow. Today, I was in the library all afternoon studying. As we were finishing brunch before I went, I asked Shlomo what he was going to do while I was gone. He responded, "Oh, I don't know. Go get Gigi." I said, "Fine, but the name expires at midnight tonight. Either you get her today, or the name is not Gigi." Yippee! I won! We would not have the gayest dog in the world. Well, allow me to introduce Gigi.



That's right. This is our toy poodle puppy. She is adorable. I have to admit...I baited Shlomo just a bit. I had to look up something on the computer so I sent him a couple of ads for maltipoos. Ha! Ha! Very funny. Then, a bit later, I called Shlomo to see what he was doing. He said he was calling ads.

Then, this is where the story takes a couple of bizarre turns. I bumped into a friend of mine in the library. She was wearing a pink shirt that said, "Whatever happens at Gigi's house, stays at Gigi's house." WTF? I called Shlomo with the report. Then, a few minutes later he emailed me. He was watching TV and heard "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" being sung in French.

I finished studying and came home. We were both looking at ads. There were very few available. Then, we clicked on an ad and saw here picture. She's not even one of the poo mixes, but somehow we just knew. Shlomo called. We made arrangements to meet the breeder in an hour.

Now, if you buy your toy poodle from a former stripper from Splendora, TX (who claims to have worked with Anna Nicole in a club called Gigi's back in the day), does that make you white trash? If so, Shlomo and I are trash.

Oh well, I am sure there will be many more posts about the menagerie. We used to say we were finished buying art, but we kept on. After the two parrots, we said our zoo was full. Now, I have learned to never say never.

Little Things Previously Unknown

First of all, I am not living on the street. Shlomo finally understood the importance of my sharing a certain story never to be mentioned again. However, under no circumstances am I to call him "Larry".

However, somehow...and I am not sure how...Shlomo found himself under the impression that I share my girl scout cookies. Here's the deal. I love Samoas (or in certain parts of the country--Caramel Delights). It's odd. I don't even like coconut. But I have an unnatural affection for these cookies. I have been known to call the day that girl scout cookies come in the happiest day of the year. I can't explain our history. It's long and it's real.

So, when I ordered the cookies, I consulted Shlomo. He did not mention the caramel delights. I did not order him any. I ordered him thin mints (only good from the freezer in my book), shortbread (there are many other good shortbread cookies), and the peanut butter sandwiches (which are not Nutter Butters if you know what I'm sayin'). Anyhoo, I ordered myself only two boxes. I know to pace myself and to not overindulge.

Tonight, was the night. I broke them out. From that second I carefully opened the package, the smell transported me to near ecstacy. I quickly devoured two cookies. And then, get a load of this, Shlomo took one. Can you believe that? Seriously?!?!?! He could not believe I was upset. I don't eat his trail mix. I even make coconut pie (which I don't even really like) just for him. I say that entitles me to hog the Samoas.

Granted, it was probably not the nicest thing for me to shout, "Back off, Bitch!" It was so bad that Lulu the pug hid in her crate. I might have overreacted. But choosing between Shlomo and the other love of my life is a tough call. Seriously. I guess I choose Shlomo, but only because I can't get Samoas for 11 months of the year.

Do we think it is possible to stage some sort of a letter writing campaign to get the girl scouts to make cookies year round? Isn't it time?

Back to School

Spring break is over. It's a sad day. Sad...because I had goals for spring break. I was going to read two books. I was going to finish a paper and start another. I was going to bring peace to the middle east. None of these things happened.

Shlomo and I did get away last weekend for some rest and relaxation in San Antonio. You know, a rainy Saturday in a walking city brings about some rest and relaxation. We slept late, ate a lot, and had a great time.

I do have a story to share, but do not tell Shlomo I told you. Shlomo has the habit of using some malapropisms on occasion. For example, he often reverses two words or if a word in the name of something is plural he leaves off the "S". In his world, we go the "Stages Deli" in New York and frequent the productions of "Stage Repertory Theatre" here in Houston.

However, last Friday was quite possibly his best use, or rather misuse, of the English language. You should know that in the tiny town where I grew up, Sonic was one of three dining establishments. I love the Sonic. It is my comfort food. It is something I have introduced to Shlomo. He was unaware of the joy that is their cheese tots. Clearly, this situation had to be rectified.

He was also introduced to my favorite drink: the cherry limeade. Shlomo struggles with this. He often calls it the Lime Cherryade. However, this past week, he became so tongue-tied that he called it a "Larry Chimeade." I am sorry, but I have to make fun of that. It is freakin' hilarious. Larry Chimeade. Seriously? I smile every time I think about it.

Shlomo...yeah, he is not so amused. He is embarassed. I don't know why. I mostly find it endearing. Okay, I don't find all of his malapropisms endearing, but this one is. He gets mad if I call him "Larry." Why? Shlomo, I am laughing with you.

So, he threatened to break up with me if I blogged about this. It has been a week. I can't not share it. It is too good. Shlomo, I love you more than anything. This thing is one of the things I love most about you. If you don't understand that, we can go to counseling...or I can live on the streets if that is what you want.

Public Service Announcement

Okay, there are many reasons that I blog. Initially, it was something that would force me to write on a daily basis. However, grad school kind of took care of that. Now it is simply to inform and entertain. Okay, it's usually more likely to be to whine, bitch, complain, or name-call and blame. You know who you are, Shlomo.

However, today's entry is different. It's about charity. That's right. I am giving. You are receiving. So, here you go. If you have a 31 Flavors that you like to frequent as Shlomo and I do, you have to try the Premium-Churned Milk Chocolate. OMG. It is delish. And, here's the good part. It is 50 percent less fat. Now, I do not know what it is 50 percent less than, but I am sure the fine folks at Baskin Robbins can tell you. So, there you go.

The more you know…and star shooting across the screen.

Later, I might do a test of the emergency broadcast system. But, don't worry…if I do and it is an actual emergency, the sound you hear will be followed by information telling you what to do. However, this is only a test.

I Know I Should Be Studying

Yeah… I know…midterm on Wednesday…blah, blah, blah.

However, I have a few things to share. First of all, I finished my first paper for my Shakespeare class. I think it is decent. Okay, it might actually be good. Even if I managed to talk about Lady Macbeth's menstrual cycle for a page and a half… Oh, I also used the word "transgendered." This is not your grandmother's Shakespeare.

More importantly, I have to tell about last night. Shlomo and I had tickets to see the national tour of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. We had no desire to see it. The reviewers had even said it was pretty "chitty." So, we took the opportunity to abandon our plans and have dinner with glass artist Toots Zynsky, a local gallery owner, and a local collector. Shlomo and I are fortunate to own a piece that Toots made. Before I go on about the evening, I will tell you a few things about Toots. She is literally world-renowned. She developed a technique for making vessels out of glass that she has pulled into thread-like structures. Her work is amazing. It is currently featured in exhibits at both the Museum of Fine Arts Houston and the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft. She has exhibited in galleries and museums all over the world. She founded Pilchuk with Dale Chihuly and is nothing short of a genius. And, she is nice to boot.

Shlomo and I felt honored to be asked to join her. We have a relatively small collection of glass art at about 15 pieces. It seems like a lot but we know people who have 100+ pieces. We are truly still in the novice category of collecting. The other collector, who shall remain nameless, is in her 80s. She is an amazing woman herself. She was also the only person with a vehicle that would hold all five of us to go to dinner.

We went to the original Ninfa's. (Mama Ninfa, as she was known, is credited with inventing the fajita.) I mean nothing bad when I say this, but it is in the barrio. It is just a fact. It's on the east side of Houston. To get there from our starting location meant two major freeways and some unfamiliar surface roads.

That collector in her 80s…yeah, she insisted that if we took her car she would drive. I have no other way to say this. It was frightening beyond frightening. And, I ride with Shlomo every day. No offense Shlomo…you know I love you…but your ADD does not help your driving skills. You know that's true. When we first pulled out onto the street, she darted between two cars. My life flashed before my eyes. We got lost three times on the way to the restaurant. When we finally did get there, a round of margaritas was ordered for everyone except collector/driver. She had iced tea. I secretly was hoping she would drink, I would abstain and insist on driving home. No one needs a DUI…even if you are in your 80s.

The drive home was no better. Oh, and did I mention that I was in the middle of the backseat on a hump? Yep, one false move and I was flying through that windshield head first. There was no safe route…highways were bad…surface streets were bad. Yep. We went down a one way street the WRONG way. Life flashing, people. Life flashing. Toots asked me if I prayed. I assured her I did. I pointed out I was Jewish, but crossed myself for good measure. Allah, can you hear me? Buddha, I am leaving no stone unturned. Hindu gods, hear my prayer. Jedi knights, guide me home.

We made it. In one piece. But if you drive in Houston, I will say this: if you see a big, honkin' silver Lexus headed down the street in your direction, take cover. I really like collector/driver, but I hope I never have to ride with her again.

Toots then came over to our house for a little plum upside down cake I had made and the three of us talked about art, glass, art glass, literature, politics, families, etc. until past midnight. It is a night Shlomo and I will not soon forget.

Got Crabs?

So, I should be reading Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. Instead, I am going to share a little story that happened last night.

After my class (which sucks by the way...it's graduate school...we don't need to watch a film...lazy professor), Shlomo and I went to a very nice seafood restaurant where they are having all-you-can-eat Stone Crabs on Monday nights. I should clear this up for you: stone crabs might be my favorite food. I think they are delicious and the best part is, the crab does not die. They pull off its claw and it regenerates a new one. Yes, it might be painful, but it is not death.

Another thing you should know: stone crabs are expensive. It is rare that I get to indulge in my love for them. On average, it is four times a year. It was a special occasion. Well, it was a special occasion that we went. Other than that, the only special occasion was that Monday night is the only night Shlomo and I will dine together this week. I know...poor Shlomo...he deserves the pleasure of my company every night.

Anyway, there is a price for six claws on the menu with two side items. For five dollars more, you can have as many as you want with unlimited sides. Here's the deal, I went to the Grace Adler school of all-you-can-eat feasting (scroll to scene three). The cardinal rule: do not fill up on the unimportant stuff. Order a salad, eat roughly 30 percent only to prepare the palate. Order one side and one side only. Eat small bites of it only while you are waiting for them to bring more of the crabs...the big ticket item. Avoid the breadbasket at all costs.

Needless to say, I totally followed my plan. Also needless to say, Shlomo did not. He ate bread. He ate most of his salad. He ate a lot of the side. He only ate six claws. I, on the other hand, stuck it to the man. That's right...eleven claws. I know gluttony is not something to brag about. However, more than getting your money's worth--especially in today's economy--is.

We all know I adore Shlomo. I can occasionally talk about how much I love him until even I am nauseated. But, hopefully he learned an important lesson last night. Filler foods are just that: filler. Do not waste your time. If we ever go to breakfast at the Plaza, I better not see a danish on your plate, Shlomo. Consider yourself warned. Smoked fishes...that's where the money is.

He's Aliiiiiiiiive

Yep, I know. It's been a while since I have posted. A long while. What can I say? I have been hard at work. Don't even start with the whole "You don't work" bit. I work harder than I ever have before. Anyhoo, sorry Shlomo, I digress.

First, there was the cocktail party for 30 in our house. We were some how conned, I mean talked in to hosting a party for a couple of glass artists who had an opening at our favorite local gallery. Yeah, let's get one thing straight. Okay, gay. I am not, I repeat NOT, a socialite. I don't have parties in my house...especially for people I don't know...even more especially if they happen to be a local celebrity or a world-famous artist. That's not how I roll. I grew up on a farm. Until I was 8, our water came from a well. We had a party line until just before I went to college. I don't do fancy entertaining.

Well, evidently I do. The party was a huge success. The house looked beautiful. Fresh flowers really helped. I would like to give a special thanks to Shlomo for not killing me because I went completely over the flower budget. But, it is over a week later and that tropical arrangement on the breakfast table still looks great. I know there is a recession going on, but the flowers were totally worth it.

The food was delicious. I take no credit for it. We had it catered. Suffice it to say, though, I am good a picking a menu. Shlomo might have helped. And, our signature cocktail "The Opening Night" was a big hit. It is made something like this. Three parts lillet (a french sherry-type libation), one part juniper gin, one part lemon juice, one part simple syrup. Oh yeah, and a maraschino cherry. I am not sure that is proper use of "part", but you get the idea.

Loco bit a local news anchor at the party. It did not draw blood, but it scared her a bit. Honestly, I think she was more upset that Loco might be in trouble. He was, but his grounding is almost over.

So, just when I recovered from that, I entered a place known as paper hell. Later this morning, I have to turn in 10 pages on Sense and Sensibility. I wrote about Fanny Dashwood. I consider it miraculous that I got ten pages on someone who is only mentioned in the book on about 12 pages.

Now, I have to write an equal number of pages about MacBeth or King Lear by next Monday. I have no idea what I am going to write about. I sense a BS delivery coming to Brugghen Street this week. Yep, 10 pages of BS. That's my new goal. By the way, said BS needs to earn an A. It will be good BS.

So, that's where I have been. Sadly, I have not been sunning myself on the beaches of Mallorca. Hell, I would settle for Galveston at this point. However, I just have to make it through this week and next and then it is Spring Break. Good times.