A Rosh Hashana message

"I Am A Strange Loop" is a book written by the notable physicist, Doug Hofstadter. Because his first wife died at an early age and his children were only 2 and 5, he worried about what they would remember of their mommy. After much reading,reasoning and philosophizing, Hofstadter realized that we need not worry what happens to us after death. What we do in our lifetimes influences each person we have a relationship with. Our souls become, at once, connected to theirs. When one soul touches another soul, that 1st soul doesn't die. It is housed in the many brains that it enters. We get in each others heads and stay there. So many times I worry that if I pass on early what will my grandchildren remember of me? Upon hearing this explanation tonight at Rosh Hashanah services by my rabbi, Arnie Rachlis, I was comforted by the reasoning that my soul, as well as others', will continue to shape the thoughts and ways of my children and grandchildren. It is not important whether my soul goes to heaven; but it is important to me that part of me will reside and influence the thinking of those who follow me. And so it is important that what we do and make of our lives, will not be forgotten by our loved ones. Shana tova.

Billo, maybe you're not such a pillo

Today I heard that Bill O'Reilly , according to the Huffington Post, "supports the creation of a government managed health care plan if it provides working Americans with an affordable option to other than private insurance plans." What! Bill O'Reilly said this on Fox News?

If only he had said this a few weeks ago he would have been spared the lunger I spewed last Friday in front of his property in West Hampton Beach. Oops. I mean moist manna from heaven!

The case of the maiden name saga

Last night I decided, after 4 weeks of deliberation, that I was going to fly up next weekend to be part of my 2nd son's 40th birthday celebration. His band was going to perform and how could I miss this important event? It was only about $30 or $40 more to fly than to take that nasty 6 1/2 hour trip by car.

So this time (see blog: American Airtimes) I was sure I could easily get my tickets 123 and not have to call Southwest for any help. And now that my sister has recently admitted that I'm much faster on the computer than she is, (I spent a few days with her last week and proved my computer proficiency to her)I had the absolute confidence that I could execute the tickets with much facility. And I did. No problema. Got done, paid the ticket and went to my email to see the confirmation etc. Only guess what? The email came addressed to me but with my maiden name on the ticket as the passenger! What was I thinking when I booked these tickets? You know you can't use someone else's boarding pass other than the one that matches up with your driver's license? There's no changing anything on line once the tickets are paid for. I quickly went through all my expired passports and found my very 1st one (when I was 17.) It showed my 1st name, middle name and maiden name. Then I went to my present one which has my 1st name, middle name and married last name. For sure Security would believe how legit this was since my driver's license also has my birth date on it. Well, all I can say is "Oy!" None of this left me feeling too comfortable about the situation at hand. So I called Southwest Airlines and explained the circumstance. (Of course I waited for 20 minutes for someone to pick up at Southwest at 10:00 p.m..) The agent was wonderful, saw that the prices hadn't changed in the last 30 minutes, cancelled my 1st booking, cut and pasted it to the next booking and smartly used my correct name of the last 45 years. Stay tuned for the next airlines saga. Maybe I'll get it right by then.

Throw Norman from the train a bag, 2 bags

This past Saturday, I had the fortune of going with my daughter's in-laws to see a wonderful musical in New York, "In The Heights." The plan was that I would take the LIRR train from my sister's house on the island, switch to another train and exit in Lynbrook. In Lynbrook, all those who were to accompany me would be at the station; I would get off the train and we would chat for 1/2 an hour until the next train to Penn station arrived. Halfway through my journey, I received a cell phone call from a member of the extended family saying that instead of getting off the train, I should merely throw my bags off the car and Norman (my daughter's father-in-law, who was not going to the theatre,) would pick up the bags and bring them to his mother's house where this family group was staying. So when Martin, Norman's brother asked me what car I was in, I had no idea. I didn't get the phone call before I switched trains; it never occured to me to count the car I was in. I said I was about 3 cars from the last one. The train stopped. I saw the entire family, including Norman, all the way at the end of the train station. I took my bags to the door, literally threw them onto the platform and saw Norman running up to get my bags. The others entered the last car and we didn't connect with each other, hugs, kisses and the like, until the next stop when we were able to open the God forsaken heavy car doors. If this doesn't seem funny to you, the reader, you're gonna have to trust me on this one.We were all absolutely hysterical laughing. I mean to see Norman, who has now grown a gray haired pony tail since the last time I saw him, running down the platform was a sight I will never forget. I'm surprised the cops didn't go after him as he was picking up these two bags from seemingly out of nowhere and carrying them to his car. A memorable event, indeed.

El Pollo Poco II

Did you all see the "El Pollo Poco" advertisement tonight where the Latino sings his song and shows you all the food you can get on the dollar menu? The loco salad was not only filled to the top, but it was spilling over. What a joke!

Standing on the shoulders of my sister

Last night when I was talking to my sister we were joking around about having massages/facials when I go to N.Y. in two weeks. (We won't do it, but we were just talking about it.) So my sister said that every time she goes for a massage, the masseuse tells her to relax her body and relax her shoulders. She returns with,"But I am relaxed." The masseuse tells her she's not relaxed enough. Which is one of the reasons I never have massages, because I can't stand some bitty telling me to relax. My first date told me to relax, my friends tell me to relax, my co-workers have always told me to relax etc. Hey everyone, this is it. I don't get any more relaxed than how you see me. My state of being is perpetual fluctuation and that's the way it is. It's inherited! So I added to my sister's comments that every time I have a new grandchild and one of my kids takes a picture of me holding the new baby, my shoulders are never "at ease." They're always up by my ears. It's pretty funny to see in pictures. You'd think that after giving birth to 3 kids and having 4 grandchildren, that my shoulders wouldn't be standing at attention anymore.

El Pollo Poco

Well, my heart is hardened enough like the Pharoah that I think I'm through with El Pollo Loco! I have been buying dinners from that take out restaurant for close to 20 years now at least a few times a week. But the last two times I've been there, their wonderful chips have been stale and the four Loco salads I ordered last night were only 1/3 full! Granted they are each $1.00 and it makes a nice accompaniment for a main course or for lunch the next day with tuna fish in it. But I feel like a got a quarter's worth of shredded lettuce. My salads last night and tonight were finished with 2 1/2 bites.

So bye bye Pollo Poco. If you are "loco" enough to scrimp on your salad and take advantage of a drive by consumer, I am "stoico" enough to find another take out restaurant donde "poco" esta un chiste y "grande" existe.

American Air Times

Yesterday I booked a flight to New York to visit with family and friends. I'm thinking,
"I'm going to get through this process online 123." I know how to do it; it won't take me 3 hours like it takes my sister; I've become a pro at this." Except this time I'm trying to use my rapid rewards with American. I decide on the date and times and go to put in my Aadvantage number and find out that I'm too late. Those dates with the times I want are filled on the rapid rewards program. So I say to myself, "yipee...I've got enough miles saved up...I'll fly Business Class." Not so fast, lady." American wants to charge me 100,000 miles worth of reward mileage to go Business. (It should only be 50,000 earned credits.) That puts me 48,000 miles in the hole. My choices after 30 minutes of this: I can go back to the beginning, see how I can maneuver all these miles that I have even if I have to leave my house at 4:30 a.m. to get a seat on the day that I want, or...I can CALL AA and let them figure it out for me. Well after the agent got me the exact times that I wanted on the days that I wanted using up more miles than I cared to but not 48,000 extra miles, my choice came down to: I can let her book it for me for $20.00 plus $5.00 in taxes, or I can hang up, go back to the computer and see if I can be as creative as the agent and put in all my info for no cost at all. I took the road less traveled these days and let the agent do it. LIFE'S TOO SHORT.

Bye bye, m'am

I'm sitting at work now ready to meet the world head on and make whatever sales are possible on a post July 4th Sunday. A very young woman comes in with two adorable little boys, Mateo and Marcus. They are acting just like my 2 adult sons used to act when they were together in a store. I naturally relate some of the horror stories that I can remember of my sons when they were 2 and 4. And, of course, it was like it was yesterday when they used to hide behind the clothing rounders in the department stores and cause havoc there. So by now I'm "back in the day" and am enjoying a comraderie with this lovely woman. And then it's time for her and the boys to leave. In a very loud and charming voice she says: "good bye m'am" and I am shattered. I've come back to earth. I'm probably 35 or 40 years older than she is!

The British 'r coming, the British 'r coming!

I'm trying to catch up on my bills and my email and FaceBook and Twitter (yes, I do all those things now) and the cannon right outside my window is deafening! I've now jumped out of my skin about 6 times and ran to take cover the 1st two times. I should have realized it's just past 9:00 p.m., the sun is down and the bloody fireworks to celebrate our country's freedom have gotten out of control. Every time I think they're over and I start concentrating again, another blast of fireworks begin. Wish I could close the windows, but it's about 80 degrees in the house. I shall make this short and enjoy the sounds of liberty and others' right to pursue happiness!

Answer: Blue Skies, Blue Caps and Gowns, Blue Lips, Pomp and Circumstance

Question: What Did Friday, June 25th have?

My 4 1/2 year old grandson graduated from Pre-K on Friday along with 23 other adorable preschoolers in blue caps and gowns. When I saw the actual gowns lined up on a table in one of the classrooms earlier that day,I knew it was going to be a 5 hanky afternoon. Because along with caps and gowns comes the Pomp and Circumstance march; I have never made it through that song without a few tissues when each of my kids graduated. But this was a first for a grandchild. I mean, he was just born a few years ago! And here I was with wet eyes and cheeks as Pomp and Circumstance played throughout the classroom.

I was standing in the back of the room right near the door where the kids would come out in their caps and gowns and walk down a short aisle to take their places in little chairs up in the front of the room. My little one caught my eye and he smiled as I clicked a whole bunch of pictures to send to everyone and carry around with me. Of course, having never used a digital camera, I didn't realize that the flash had to go off, and before that, a red light would come on. So 7/8 through the ceremony and exercises, I realized that I had nothing to show. Luckily my daughter and son-in-law have a record of this momentous occasion.

The commencement exercises were very adorable along with a slide show as a record of each child's 2-1/2 years at the Wonder Years Pre-School. Pictures were taken of all the graduates and then it was on to another classroom where parents, grandparents, younger toddlers and friends all indulged in delicious cake and drinks. It didn't take me long to spot my little 2 year old toddler sitting in a chair, minding her own business and devouring the blue icing of the cake all by herself. She was her own picture of blue: blue lips, face and hands. What a delicious day for her and all of us!

blue skies, blue cap and gown, pomp and circumstance and blue lips

Buddy can you spare a dime?

One Friday night last month I was coming out of my temple from Friday night services when my friend noticed that his car (an Infinity) wouldn't start. He kept trying to turn on the ignition many times and so did each person who came over to give him a helping hand and who each had a new suggestion on what to do. I had to be up at 7:30 a.m. the next day, which is a time that I only observe as a wake up time with my grandkids when I'm up at their house. It's an ungodly hour for me. That said, I wanted to get out of the temple parking lot as soon as possible. So I called my housemate to see if he could come down to the temple and give me a ride home. My friend called his girlfriend to do the same since he figured that AAA would tow his car off somewhere for the night. So 20 minutes later I'm picked up, we drive up Jamboree and right before we exit, there's a sign that says Jamboree exit. But, I must admit, it's a little confusing at the turnoff point and many times it's a natural inclination to want to go one exit more before we REALLY have to get off before the toll. Well, we were talking and naturally missed the exit. So there's a toll fee we have to pay for just literally ONE BLOCK. My friend asks me how much change I have (the toll is .75 cents!) Together we've come up with .55 cents. Yes, we each have dollars on us but, believe it or not, this particular toll station doesn't make change at all; nada, zippo, zilch! Now there are 2 lanes for the toll road, one is for the Fasttrak, the other is for putting your money in the basket. No one at all was coming behind us in the change lane. Everyone was zipping through with their fasttrak passes. Finally I hailed down a lovely man who barely spoke English. He pulled over from the fast trak to check his coins. Nope, he didn't even have .20 cents to his name. So while I'm talking to this foreigner , who really could have been the grim reaper for all I know, my friend was literally on his knees outside the car checking in the front and back of the car to see if he could scrounge up .20 cents more maybe from under the mats or in between the seats. He found 2 dimes. Twenty minutes later we were home free having gotten the green light to pass through. Thinking my other friend was still at temple waiting for AAA, I gave him a call to find out how he was and to laugh about our adventures; he was already home. When his girlfriend arrived, she suggested he start the car again and lo and behold, it started! Boy I hang around with some doozies, huh? One floods his car over and over again and the other is scrounging for change under the carpets of his car! There's something wrong with this picture.

Shopped 'Til I Dropped

Last weekend the SEARS ESSENTIALS closed in my neighborhood. Ever since I knew the store was closing I'd visit it regularly to see how the merchandise was selling, what percentage off was being given, and was there something I had to have. So I missed out on the wine rack that I'd been touching, feeling and measuring for about 6 weeks, I missed out on some toys for my grandkids, there was no jewelry that interested me, basically nothing but a few bras. After I purchased one bra at 50% off, I waited until the line would go down more. But alas, when the 75% sign went up, the brand that I liked had nothing to offer me but 2 sizes larger. So, had to have the bargain, and bought it at 2 sizes larger. Then last weekend, I went in early Friday morning, just to scout out the store for the last time. Not much left. Saturday, after work, I was so tired but had to go in again. Even less left. I decided that was enough. I'd touched everything, tried on what was slightly interesting, and just went home. No more, don't go back; you've seen it all. Except that Sunday night, the last hour of the store's existence, I just couldn't drive home after work without giving it one more shot. I'm now completely exhausted having worked and been on my feet the whole weekend. So with painful heel spur and all, I park my car and with 45 minutes left until closing, I decided to try on a few blue jeans in Omar the Tentmaker size. The clothes were 80% off with an additional 50% off of that. Can't beat that. So I figured I'll buy one size larger, just to get me through this overly fat, outrageous BMI number that I've earned. And for $3.50 I walked out of Sears Essentials with my new oversized jeans that I can throw out after I stop eating walnuts, yogurt, M&Ms, chocolate and all the other midnight snacks.

Younger than springtime, am I

When two of my grandkids were very small but old enough to sit up and hold onto objects, one of the first animated things that each of them did was to hold up an adult shoe to their ears and make believe they were talking on the phone. Of course I thought that each one of them was so creative and brilliant. I marveled how they could substitute a shoe for a cell phone. Sometimes they would just pick up anything that was more or less rectangular and hold it to their ears and pretend to be talking.

This image came back to me this afternoon as I dried myself off from the shower. I always bring both my cell phone and landline to the bathroom area (God forbid I should miss a call from my gallery!) So I'm all dried off, have put my clothes on and go to return both phones to their proper places in my bedroom. Only as I was going to put my landline phone back in its cradle I realized that I had picked up the Dove body lotion which is also white and sort of rectangular in shape.
Now either I am younger than springtime like my grandkids or older than dirt. Unfortunetly it's the latter.

"I'm Not A Snake."

Don't call me; I'll call you

My sister told me recently that she'll know she's really getting really old when her kids start calling her every day. Which, of course, is very funny since we're always saying to each other that we rarely speak to our kids unless we do the calling. I have one son who calls me about every 6 or 7 weeks and tries to time it when he knows I won't answer my home phone. This way he can leave a message and doesn't have to hear how I'm doing. He just always assumes I'm okay; if not, he'll hear from his brother or sister otherwise. And my sister is so right. Because I used to make my perfunctory phone calls to my parents once a week when they lived in Florida. But once we moved my mom out here to California in her 90s, I was calling her every day. So for right now, I just giggle from the fact that my kids have their own lives, are busy working, driving their kids everywhere, cleaning the house etc. and it's hard to take the time to make small talk with me. And I'm content with knowing that I'm still able enough to call them and not have to wait for them to call me.

53% of who?

It has been 10 months since I have "ruminated" anything on my blog site. And I have been asked repeatedly why I stopped blogging. I have no answer except that blogging takes time, at least for me, and since I started working 6 days a week, I spend most of my free time eating, sleeping and watching Law and Order. So speaking of work, here goes my newest blog and newest rant.

I am a progressive Radio Talk Show aficionado and listen to Air America, or Nova whenever I'm going to and from work. Invariably I get very involved with the topic on hand and hate having to park my car in the parking structure at work. I am just at the point when the guest speaker is exchanging some very important statistics with the talk show host, or a person calls in with unusual information when I have to enter the parking structure. It's like "Well, you know Tom, 53% of all --and I lose the signal. WHAT? I'm missing the most important stat due to complete static for 4 floors until I reach the 5th floor which is outdoors (employee parking.) It happens to me everyday 6 days a week. It's as if the most important bit of information is being given out as I enter the parking garage. Sometimes, although rarely, when no one is behind me, I just let my car idle at the point of entry to hear the rest of the comment. It's no different when I get off the freeway sometimes and I have to go under the freeway bridge to get to the main street. I mean, men and women fly to the moon, astronauts are floating in space making finite adjustments to the Hubble Telescope, we can fly to the east coast in 4 1/2 hours; but no one has found a way to get better reception when we're in parking structures! I drive an Acura and can't hear squat inside. If any readers drive a Lexus or Infiniti or BMW, please let me know if you have better luck. Until then, yours in static.