March 28, 2008
Tomorrow, the Band family rises at dawn and heads to New Jersey - I know, it’s always the glamorous locations.
What compels us to wedge ourselves into a car and be subjected to the bickering of teenage children in the backseat for five hours?
The Drew University Equestrian Team
My son went off to college and, rebel that he is, joined the Equestrian Team. That means on weekends, when he should be drinking beer and sleeping late, he is rising at dawn, dressing in jodhpurs and riding a horse around in a ring. Maybe we should be worried.
Before this, other than merry-go-rounds and a very tame trail ride in Yosemite Park when he was twelve, I don’t think he had ever been on a horse or even shown any interest in horses.
I guess that’s what college is for.
March 21, 2008
It is Good Friday. It is a religious holiday and there is no school. That makes it a-not-so-good Friday at my house. Lewis has just come home from tennis practice with other boys and they are running around hiding each other’s rackets and making a racket. The house is shaking.
No kidding – our house is over 100 years old, generations of children have grown up under this roof and my family will be the one who brings it down.
I suggested a snack as way to distract the boys from their incredibly loud and possibly structurally damaging games.
Remove Peeps from package, place on plate, microwave until you get scared.
March 13, 2008
The town I where I live has 42,389 residents. It is not a small town. Yet, it often seems like a tiny village - in good ways ( like how I always run into someone I know at the grocery store) and in bad ways (like how I always run into someone I know at the grocery store).
Today, I was at the Town Hall.
I went to the Town Hall because I am running for re-election as a Town Meeting member and I had received a letter that to report to Town Hall at 5:30pm because they would be determining the order of names on the ballot. So I went. Nobody was there except the Town Clerk, the old guy who bags groceries at the supermarket… and me.
Turns out the official government procedure is: The clerk writes down the names of all the candidates on little slips of paper and puts them into a shoe box. Then, she shakes the box and the old guy who bags groceries at the market pulls the names out one by one.
Ah… Democracy!
March 9, 2008
My son Lewis went to the movies today with “people.” Being a savvy mom, I know that “people” is a code word for a group that includes at least one girl.
Beware, Lewis.
While you have been busy memorizing the Red Sox line up and perfecting your hand/eye coordination on the Xbox;
the girls, have spent their entire lives focusing on the nuances of inter-personal relationships
and how to make their hair smell like strawberries.
March 4, 2008
I am beginning to believe that there is a God and that she understands that I am not the kind of mother who would be able to successfully parent a kid who is allergic to peanuts or who has ADHD or even a kid who is extremely gifted.
Fortunately, that is not the case .
And I am reminded of just how easy I have it.
Today, Lewis brought a new friend home from school. Basic Mom Etiquette requires that the first thing you do when your child brings home a new friend is to impress them with your motherliness by offering a snack. If I had been given a little warning, I might have probably gone all domestic and baked some chocolate chip cookies. But, this would have been for naught because Lewis’s new friend is gluten intolerant
. 
I had visions of the child going into anaphylactic shock, of his tongue swelling up, of rashes and vomiting and of all of it being my fault.
Graham crackers?
Nope.
Oreo ice cream?
Nope.
Okay, have a banana.
February 27, 2008
“Me gusto.”
That’s what Lewis said about his trip to Costa Rica.
His ears are peeling. That’s how much fun he had. 
Meanwhile, I got an e-mail from his Latin teacher that said that he got a 41 on the last test.
Ego non amo is.
Maybe I should care more. Maybe, I should get him a tutor. Or take away his Ipod, or his Xbox…
…or his supper.
Maybe he won’t be able to get into a good college.
Maybe I’ll save mucho dinero on tuition.
Me gusto.
February 19, 2008
H and I took the Chinatown Fung Wah bus from Boston to NYC for the weekend. Fifteen bucks ($15!) and the bus didn’t explode. So, I guess the trip was a success.
Call me out of touch, but I was surprised that everyone on the bus …everyone was on their cell phone the whole entire time.
“Hi, I’m on the bus.”
“高盛華香香港”
“Can you hear me, I’m on the bus – yeah, the Chinatown bus.”
“高盛華香香港”
I am not distracted by someone talking on their cell phone in Chinese. But if someone is speaking English- even if it’s an asinine conversation, I am riveted.
“Yeah, I’m on the bus… the bus. Yes. The Fung Wah bus.”
Fung You.
Translated, Fung Wah, means Magnificent Wind. And while the ride wasn’t exactly magnificent, it didn’t blow, either.
February 13, 2008
I am really, ready for winter to be over. The snow is dirty, my backyard is covered with frozen dog poop and the sidewalks are icy. I could break a hip, for God’s sake. I’m glad that I don’t have to go out. Although, I am having a good hair day and it is kind of a waste to stay inside and not share it with the world.
Lewis asked me to make more butterscotch brownies last night and I did. But, now he’s at school and I am home alone with a deadline and an almost-full pan of brownies. So fat far, I have exercised restraint and cut only tiny little squares from the corners of the brownie pan, but haven’t taken a stab at the new writing job.
I really should get away from the brownies. I need to get some actual exercise. The pool was closed for the past three days, but today it’s open. I could go, right now, work off the brownies, and be home in time to still get some work done….but I’d have to sacrifice my good hair.
The pea soup that I made for dinner last night received less than stellar reviews from Harris and met with retching noises from Lewis, who ate raviolis, instead. I know that a bowl of pea soup is a risky entrée to serve to men who expect a nightly diet of grilled meat on a plate. Tough. I like it. I even used yellow peas and added butternut squash so that it was golden— not at all Linda Blair-esque.
Speaking of which, I read in the paper today that the Catholic church is training more priests in exorcism. One Polish priest is quoted as saying that “Internet addicts and yoga devotees” are at especially high risk of demonic possession. Geez-us.
February 11, 2008
According to the thermometer outside my kitchen window, it is twelve degrees in my backyard. But, I am putting on my coat and boots and schlepping to Target. Why? Because Lewis is going on a school trip to Costa Rica and needs sunscreen, a new bathing suit and watershoes.
Over February vacation, I don’t get to go anywhere. I get stay home and to care of Lewis’ gecko.
I think geckos might be indigenous to Costa Rica.
S. has returned. She claims to have been at a yoga retreat. She looks well-rested, but not suspiciously so.
February 1, 2008
Okay, I have tried to call my friend S. for three days. There’s no answer at her house and she doesn’t pick up her cell. She doesn’t call me back when I leave a message. I don’t think she’s mad at me. So, the only plausible explanation for her disappearance is that she is having “work” done (by “work,”I mean a procedure like: liposuction, an eye lift or micro-dermabrasion) and that now, she is in seclusion, swathed in cotton bandages, waiting for the swelling to go down.
My friends and I sometimes gripe about our gray hair, our muffin tops (mine’s blueberry), our varicose veins and our laugh lines. We rest our elbows on the tiny tables at Starbucks and gently pull on our faces. until we look like we’re in a wind tunnel. “How’s this?” we ask. “You don’t have any wrinkles,” is the correct response.
We also have a pact, at least I thought we had a pact, that no one will do anything to enhance their appearance (this includes lifts, tucks, resurfacing or buying cosmetics that can’t be found at Walgreen’s) without giving everybody me advance warning.
Surprise! A package from UPS! Last week, in a moment of disgust over the living room chair that is ripped and covered with dog slobber stains, I ordered a slipcover- and then totally forgot about it. Until just now.
“Tuck, excess fabric into arm and side crevices to create smooth lines.” If only it was that easy.
