Tag Archives: NYC

Drip, Drip…

I wouldn’t necessarily call it a resolution, but this year I told myself I’d take one picture a week – specifically, a picture which encapsulates the kind of week I’ve had. Last week I wanted to post a cute picture of the minivan as we returned from our road trip to the Great White North, but I didn’t know which picture to post. I had a few choices:

1. The pic of the new brakes I had to put on the minivan before we left. (Not myself, but by Bruce, my well-named and flawless mechanic.)

2. The pic of the fresh dent I put in the back of the van when pulling out my driveway as we were leaving.

3. The pic of the heating vents in the ceiling of the minivan dripping onto our heads as we drove through Quebec.

4. The pic of the tire pressure light which goes on each time the temp drops below 20 degrees. That light all but imploded as we dropped to -25 in Montreal.

In the end I couldn’t bear to post a pic of the minivan – I hardly want to encourage it. Instead, this week’s pic comes from M – in yet another attempt to subtly remind me to replace the toilet paper.

As I have already made clear, I do not believe in replacing the toilet paper. Other things in which I don’t believe: those crappy little snack-size ziploc bags and the half sheets of paper towel.

Consequently, we have all thawed out from our week in the Great White North; even the minivan. It is now 30 degrees in NY and it feels like Maui. Aloha!


Filed under Canada, driving, Minivans, New York City, Road trip, toilet paper, Uncategorized

Lamb testicles = No school

On Sunday M took Efram to Queens to pick up some chairs I found on Ebay. (You’ll see a picture of those once I’ve cleaned them up.)

“You should take him for lunch,” I suggested. “There are a ton of interesting ethnic restaurants in Queens.”

Queens is very large and personally, I find it impossible to navigate. But I’d given M the perfect challenge/gift: in the name of father-son bonding, find a restaurant and eat without me watching you.

Sure enough, the chairs were located in a warehouse which was located near a string of Bukharian restaurants. I have no idea which one they chose, but I did receive the following text from M:

“Guess what Efram ate? Hint: it’s number 48.”
… And the following picture:

Later that day, I asked Efram how they tasted.

“Like gefilte fish,” he said.

Oy. A nation of Bukharian (Central Asian) Jews are rolling their eyes somewhere.

Interestingly, Efram was unable to attend school yesterday due to a stomach ache. Mind you, he often has a stomach ache on Monday mornings. I didn’t want to damper his culinary curiosity, so I didn’t bring up the testicles.

But it’s hard to ignore. Here’s a recipe for truancy, kids: Lamb testicles on a Sunday = No school on Monday.


Filed under children, food, New York City, Uncategorized

Bronx is Beautiful

It’s (almost) wordless Wednesday, and I snapped this on my run through Van Cortlandt Park.

My goodness, how I love New York.

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Filed under New York City, running

Ay! Santa Maria!

Last week, each afternoon I picked Sidney up from preschool, she climbed into her car seat and exclaimed: “Ay! Santa Maria!” (Nobody believes me, but I swear she even did so with a soup├žon of Spanish.)

At first I was sure I was mishearing her.

I wasn’t. “Ay! Santa Maria!” All. Week. Long.

Now, I know that Riverdale Temple is Jew-ish. Last December I was just fine with Jingle Bells and a Kwanza song about a candle at the “Winter Party.” Still, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Santa Maria coming home. At first I thought it had something to do with NYC’s Universal Pre-K program. In exchange for subsidized pre-K, there are restrictions on when religion can be taught — basically only after the UPK session is finished. But this made no sense, if nothing Jewish could happen until the afternoon, how did Santa Maria sneak in? And isn’t she something of a religious entity?

I obviously wasn’t bothered enough to to ask anyone other than a three year old, but I kept asking Sidney until I got a response other than: “Ay! Santa Maria!”

Finally, on Wednesday I got an answer.

Me: Sid, who is Santa Maria?

Sid: It’s not a who, it’s a thing.

Me: I see. Can you tell me more about this thing? Is it a picture of a woman holding her dying son? Is it a triptych depicting the remarkable life of a woman and her child, complete with gold leaf? (Ok, I’m getting carried away. But this was where my mind went: Had they taken a field trip to the Cloisters? It’s not where I would take a class of three and four year olds, but I’m game…)

Sid: It’s funny that you don’t know this, but Columbus sailed to New York on the Nina, the PITA, and the Santa Maria. Ay! Santa Maria! (She will not stand corrected on that second ship.)

And there you have it. Riverdale Temple and my almost-four year old totally schooled me.



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Filed under children, New York City, school

Is there meth in this honey cake?

Every year I get a flu shot and every year, without fail, I get the flu…or a virus which does a mean flu impersonation.

I stumbled into the local pharmacy yesterday to pick up a box of Advil Cold and Sinus, on the advice of my doctor. Before I was allowed to buy a box I had to sign a log and hand over my ID. I asked why and the pharmacist looked at me blankly and said: “Didn’t you watch Breaking Bad?”

No, I have not seen Breaking Bad. I also haven’t read a word of Fifty Shades of Whatever. At some point I may have to explore both in order to be culturally relevant again, but for now I’m blissfully ignorant.

It turns out that in NY they keep track of it when you buy pseudoephedrine, which is a meth ingredient.


I am not making meth at home. I’m making honey cake, which is a lot less interesting but I suspect will get me into less trouble. (I made a batch for Rosh Hashana which came out dreadfully wrong, leaving me to wonder aloud whether anyone really eats the stuff anyway or whether it’s really the fruitcake of Rosh Hashana — necessary but unloved. It turned out that the failed honey cake was remarkably popular, which goes to show everyone that I really know nothing at all.)

Wishing everyone a happy and a healthy (flu-free) New Year.


Filed under baking, New York City

Stupid Little Bags

I love bags. By bags I don’t mean purses, I mean bags, tote bags. Sometimes I love the free ones, sometimes I love the ones I force myself to buy at the grocery store when I forget mine at home (it’s a way of both punishing myself for forgetting and rewarding myself for shopping in the first place.) In short, I have many.

M does not love my bags. He especially does not like traveling with them. I have lost count of the number of times the entire contents of some adorable little open-top tote have spilled out on the floor of an airport, or under seat of the passenger in front of us on the airplane, causing him to holler: NO MORE OPEN BAGS ARE ALLOWED ON OUR TRIPS.

I always manage to sneak one or two in. And now Frances is in on it too. At eight, she now brings along her own adorable but impractical open-top bags.

But this week the open top bags rose to utility. This week we are moving to a new house here in NY. This is our fifth move with kids and each time the move grows in scope and difficulty. I wanted to move as much over to the new house as I could before the movers came and threw things into boxes with things with which they do not belong (oven gloves and toothbrushes anyone?). So I made bags: bags of toothbrushes (Stanford bookstore), bags of underwear (Goats on the Roof, British Columbia), bags of things required by children to sleep (JCrew tote, circa 2004), bags of face soap (Whole Foods, circa last week). You get the idea.

Here are the bags at work:



(Yes those shelves are completely wonky. You can’t always get what you want.)

I told M these bags brought to mind the plucky little fishing boats that helped evacuate the beaches at Dunkirk. He did not roll his eyes. I believe he has come to appreciate my flair for the dramatic and my constant WWII references.

The bags may not have saved the day, but I was proud of them nonetheless, and because they are all currently in use, I think I have to buy some more.

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Filed under accessories, moving, New York City

Anchors Away (#parenthood)


Just put the boys on a Ferry to visit friends. Alone. Gulp. Sometimes I am overcome by:

A. A desire to have them out of my hair.

B. A desire for them to suck the marrow out of life.

C. A desire to press the EMERGENCY STOP button on the merry-go-round and slow this whole thing down for a while.


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Filed under children, New York City, parenting, Summer