Monthly Archives: December 2012

My Blogging Report Card: The Year in Review

Posted on December 31, 2012 | 68 comments

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Yesterday, WordPress sent its bloggers our end of the year report cards, which provide us with some fun statistics. I stopped looking at the numbers a while ago, so it is fun to see how this year compared to last year.

According to one part of the report:

About 19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 150,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

In 2012, there were 165 new posts, growing the total of this blog to 460 posts.

The busiest day of the year was November 17th with 1,103 views. The most popular post that day was Coming Clean About My Age.

Hello, Jay-Z? Did you hear that? Eight sold-out performances. You might want me on your tour. Just sayin’.

For me, 2012 was a mix of highs and lows. There were a lot of best of times. And I didn’t have anything that I would count as a “worst of times,” and for that I am fortunate.

In January, when I learned that my niece and nephew had not received their holiday gifts, I wrote I’m Sorry The US Postal Service Wrecked Your Christmas.  Just in case you were left hanging, wondering: Did the kids ever get their present. A month later, the box came back to my house. Apparently, my sister-in-law has a really cranky mail carrier.  This year, we got it right. I think.

In February, I Got Lucky in N’awlins when I met The Lucky Mom in the city that holds my heart. We only spent about 5 hours together, but Lisha has become another angel who lives and breathes in The Crescent City.

Color-coordinated. With hat.

In March, I showed you some emails from my students in wotz da big deal cuz u no wot i mean. It hurt to write that the first time, and it hurt again now. Please remember to read to your children. And as they get older, please try to hold off on letting them texting until they have mastered basic rules of spelling and grammar. No matter what anyone says, their teachers can tell the difference. And yes, it matters.

In April, I started  shopping for dresses for my son’s upcoming bar mitzvah and gave you A Reason to Hate Communal Mirrors after a stranger gave me a few unsolicited words of advice.

yoga

In May, I went to an outdoor yoga event in memory of an old friend who died of brain cancer. I found myself wondering Why Did I Stop Yoga? And I’m proud to say that is one mid-year resolution I’ve kept.

In June, I started to obsess about TechSupport’s bar mitzvah, which took place at the end of the month, just 8 days before he left for a month an overnight camp. I wrote Channeling Atticus Finch, a flashback where I remember being very-pregnant with the person who would become my only child. It’s hard to believe that I have a teenager now, but those of you who have been reading recently, know that I sooooo do. Because he sooooo is.

Rude!

In July, I asked Is It Wrong To Type Thank You Notes? After Tech’s bar mitzvah, he had a lot of gratitude to show. But his penmanship is atrocious. The comments in this post were interesting and helpful. I also kvelled a bit as I wrote how I felt about my son’s bar mitzvah in To My Son, One Month After and The Happy Hora and A Gift from Grampy. I don’t usually write about religion; perhaps this is why these posts are so special to me.

Doesn't my ginger ale with lime look fancy?

In August, I got some photographs back from the photographer! So I was able to show you some pictures of Tech’s science-themed bar mitzvah in What It All Looked Like.

Life was good. Everything was ladybugs and sunflowers. I thought it could last.

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And then, things kind of fell apart a bit. In August, my writing partner dumped me. And my computer crashed. I lost a very important relationship along with twenty years of teaching curriculum, all my photographs, all my writing, as well as the first draft to my recently completed novel.

*weep*

A month later, after I stopped crying, I wrote Rebooting Myself After The Great Computer Crash: You’ve Got To Back That Thang Up. Consider this a Public Service Announcement. If you have a computer and you don’t have an external hard drive, please buy one for yourself. Now.

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In October, a girl at my son’s school used social media to announce that she was going to commit suicide. I wrote When a Walk in the Park is Not a Walk in the Park after my son and I took a walk where he opened up to me a little. That was rough.

In November, I gave myself a blog mini-makeover, and some blogging friends offered me some faboo headers from which to choose. I survived another birthday, and wrote Coming Clean About My Age, which was Freshly Pressed.  *Sarcasm on* So you know it was one of my very best pieces of writing. *Sarcasm off* But for real, being SquishedFlat brought a lot of new readers to my blog, and for that I am grateful.

Jacobson.Bar.Mitzvah.-02407

In December, I wrote Make a Wish: It’s 12:12 on 12/12/12. Because my father turned 75 on that day, and the world did not end nine days later either. So it’s really good that I didn’t give him any of the Doomsday gifts that I considered in that post.

Oh, and I also retired from teaching in December. Forever.

I didn’t write about it. I just walked out of my classroom. After twenty-two years as an educator, I’m burnt out. It is hard to write those words because so many of my happiest days were in one classroom or another.

And yet.

I am craving new adventures.

And I want to finish my book.

That is the only resolution I am making for 2013. I am going to get it done.

Oh, I need to thank everyone who follows my blog. Even the person who follows me from Zambia. (Whoever you are, thank you!) However you find me, please know I am grateful that you are reading my words. I love your comments, and I encourage you to leave them! Why? Because each one is like a non-caloric yet astoundingly delicious piece of caramel dipped in peanut butter and rolled in chocolate. Who wouldn’t want that?

Lessons Learned CE

I am grateful to each of the guest bloggers who participated in my Lessons Learned series. Because of their generosity, I had 29 amazingly diverse voices, each sharing a valuable life lesson. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, click on the link above or check out Giddy About Guest Posts in my sidebar.

Have a wonderful New Year’s Eve. May 2013 be the best yet, for all of us.

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May this white stuff stick around for a little while and then melt.

You know, like my hard-drive back in August. 😉

tweet this twit @rasjacobson

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Posted in Mash-Ups

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13 Hot Bloggers You Should Check Out in 2013

Posted on December 30, 2012 | 80 comments

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Last year, I landed on Kludgy Mom’s Top Bloggers List. And I almost died. I clicked on that link 100 times that day because even though she says she’s not a big blogger, Gigi Ross is totally a big blogger. Her recognition made me feel like a million bucks, and it was a great way to start off the New Year.

When I got into bed that night, I decided I was going to keep a list of awesome bloggers for other people to check out this year. This is tres difficult because I follow over 50 blogs, and believe me when I say there are too many great writers out there.

These people represent the folks whose content I consistently love to read. They are also bloggers who interact with their readers, which – for me – is half the fun.

13 Hot Bloggers to Check Out in 2013

Missy at Literal Mom – because she approaches parenting in a smart way.  @literalmom

Kiran from Masala Chica – because she is a hot-blooded woman who speaks her mind (respectfully) yet fearlessly. Did I mention, she is gorgeous and she sings. I dare you to hate her; she’s beyond nice. @kferrandino

Nina Badzin – because she knows her stuff. On life and blogging and books. @ninabadzin

Lisha of The Lucky Mom – because she is as funny as she is introspective. And because she lives in New Orleans: the city which will always hold my heart. @lishafink

Liz McLeannan of  Life With Bellymonster – because she has a way of capturing not only a moment, but how she feels in a moment, that every single woman can identify with. Also, she’s Canadian, eh?@lizmclennan

Rivki Silver at Life in the Married Lane – because she writes about three things I love: food, family and Judaism. @rivkisilver

Val at Arty Old Bird because she is one helluva writer with a unique take on nearly everything. An artist from across the Pond, Val allows people to use her images, provided they give proper attribution.  @artyoldbird

Erin Margolin  – because she writes raw and real. And because I think her cause is awesome. @erinmargolin

Darla at ShesaMaineiac – because she is freaking funny. Always.

Tori of The Ramblings – because she’s all over the place. Who doesn’t love a blogger who just does her thang, tells it like it is, and doesn’t give a crap what you think. @toristoptalking

Misty at Misty’s Laws – because she is grumbly and snarky and naughty.

Jules at Go Jules Go – because she is joy on steroids on chipmunks. Don’t ask. Just read. @juliedavidoski

The Byronic Man – because you can’t love Jules (above) and not love her writing partner, the B-man. They go together like…ra-ma-la-ma-lama ga-ding-ga-da-ging-da-dong. Together forever like… aw, you get the point. Also, he’s my token dude.

There are tons of other bloggers whose shizz I love to read. I hope everyone understands that I was trying to plug some of my favorite smaller bloggers out there. Like me. We can’t all be Le Clown. 😉

What small blogger do you LOVE to read? 

tweet me @rasjacobson

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So You’re Trying to Get to Cleveland for New Years Eve and The Thruway Closes & You’ve Got to Pee

Posted on December 27, 2012 | 75 comments

New Years Eve 2012

For years Hubby and I had a long-standing tradition of spending New Year’s Eve with friends in Cleveland.

Some people might be thinking: Cue the sad-sounding trombones.

The reality is our New Year’s celebrations in Cleveland have been wonderful.

Some years we dressed up all fancy-schmancy and traveled to decadent restaurants while other years we huddled beside the fireplace in our jammies and fell asleep before the ball in Times Square touched down.

One year as Hubby and I set out to make our annual trek, the weather looked hairy. But we were young and stupid, so we packed up our car and pressed on.

After we passed Buffalo and got on the Interstate, the snow started pelting the car so we couldn’t see.

We turned on the radio.

Yes, the radio.

It was either that or Hubby’s tape-deck and collection of mixed-tapes featuring Kenny G.

My husband gripped the steering wheel. The snow was blowing the car around and we wanted to know if the whole trip would feel like we were driving through a wind tunnel beneath the heavy feathers of a rapidly molting white bird.

And then we heard it.

The Thruway has been closed from Buffalo to Erie.

As if on cue, the cars slowed and stopped. We turned off the engine to conserve gas. There was nothing to do but wait.

And listen to mixed tapes.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I was two months pregnant at the time.

I don’t know about how it goes for other women, but during that first trimester, I had to pee.

A lot.

After sitting for three hours in my husband’s tiny black Honda Prelude, I panicked.

“I have to pee.”

The windshield wipers swished back and forth and, for a moment, we could see.

“Well, you’re going to have to hold it.”

I looked out my passenger side window, at the stillness of it all and contemplated how I was going to make it to a bathroom when I couldn’t even see an exit ramp.

But this need to pee was non-negotiable.

I tried to explain it to my husband so he would understand.

“You know how you don’t like to eat Lucky Charms for breakfast?” I said. “Well, I don’t like to pee on myself.”

In my experience, any time someone tries to ignore a biological urge, that urge becomes more urgent.

I popped open the car door. Snowflakes fluttered onto my lap.

“I see an RV ahead,” I unbuckled my seat belt. “I bet they have a bathroom. Either they’ll let me in, or I’m going to have to cop a squat.”

I walked down I-90 between the rows of stopped cars, glad for my hat with the earflaps. People saw me coming and rolled down their windows to ask me questions – as if I could tell them when the snow would stop, how much longer until we would start moving, about what was causing the delay.

I only knew I had to pee.

I slogged through the snow that came up to my knees and kept my eye on that RV with the Canadian license plates.

Knocking on the door with urgency, I was greeted by a man in a red ski-mask with cut outs for the eyes and nose.

I explained to the masked man that I was pregnant and that I had walked really far in the snow.

Because I had to pee.

The man in the ski-mask walked back up the steps and gestured for me to come in.

I looked back at my husband’s car, a white lump in the distance. Before I’d left, I told Hubby once I was in that he should give me ten minutes, that if I wasn’t out in ten minutes, he should come get me because someone was cutting me into small pieces.

So I followed a man in a ski-mask into an RV.

Surprise! The RV was filled with Canadian hockey players who were super-friendly, eh?

After I used their facilities, they offered me snacks and told me not to hesitate if I needed to come back.

On my way out, I wished them a Happy New Year, and they held up mugs and shouted something unintelligible in Canadian.

Several hours later, we got moving again, but traffic was diverted back to Buffalo where Hubby and I were forced to spend the night in a Microtel, which felt much too micro after having spent so much time crammed in such a tight space.

We didn’t make it to Cleveland for New Years that night. Instead, we had spaghetti and meatballs at one of our favorite restaurants.

I was pretty hormonal, and I remember crying as I pushed pasta and meat sauce into my mouth.

Our waitress appeared with a tiny bottle of champagne.

So long ago, not everyone was even born yet!

“This is for you,” she announced. “From your friends in Cleveland.”

And then I really sobbed.

Because I missed them.

And because I couldn’t drink champagne.

Except I probably could have.

But it was so lovely of them to remember us.

Stranded on New Year’s Eve.

Last year we made it.

And we ate raclette.

And everyone made it to midnight.

And it was positively perfect.

Last night, we got about 10 inches of snow.

It better melt really fast.

Or else.

Hope to see everyone soon!

What are you doing to ring in the New Year?

tweet me @rasjacobson

75 Comments

Posted in Humor, Memoir, Travel

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The Day The Last Baby Tooth Fell Out

Posted on December 20, 2012 | 58 comments

mouth

My son didn’t lose his teeth.

Nearly all of Tech’s chompers came in all “fakakta,” a Yiddish word meaning completely crazy. They just never got wiggly, so each one needed to be pulled by the dentist.

It seemed like such a chore. Why couldn’t my son just loose his teeth the way other children did? Swallow them accidentally while eating cake or donuts? Why did everything have to be such a production?

I always anticipated a fight on the way to the dentist’s chair. And yet, Tech never complained. Sitting on hard black waiting room chairs, he wasn’t nervous. Not even the first time. He just waited for his name to be called, and after the first time, he was a pro. He knew there would be a shot of Novocain, followed by numbness, followed by pressure. But he had faith in the adults around him. And he always appeared, chewing on a wad of bloody gauze, to hand me a tiny plastic container that held his tooth, or – in one instance – four teeth.

Last Friday, Tech informed me that he had a loose tooth. I didn’t think much of it; I figured eventually I’d call the dentist and make an appointment to have it extracted.

But that night, Tech took one bite into a slice of pizza and spat his mouthful of half-chewed food onto his plate and started mining. It only took a moment for him to find the tiny sauce-covered nugget.

That's it. The last one.

That’s it. The last one.

Holding it in his hands, Tech slurred his words. “Dat’s la lass wun.”

And then I realized what he was saying.

My son had just lost his last baby tooth.

I stopped chewing and looked across the table at my husband.

TechSupport is our only child. At thirteen years old, he is in no hurry to grow up. He tells us stories of classmates who have girlfriends or boyfriends, kids who drink and smoke after school or on weekends at parties he doesn’t attend. He isn’t interested in any of this at the moment. He has only just recently become a little teenagerishy.

And while he may not realize it, at thirteen years old, my son has crossed over. Lately, it feels like he is more on the grown up side of things than on the boy side. He’s tall. And with his longer hair, he looks older than he is – especially when he stands next to some of his friends who are shorter and stubbier than he is.

The Tooth Fairy has always left a little to be desired on our house. Tech figured out I was The Fairy at age 7, when his $2 bill came accompanied by a note typed in my favorite font. When questioned, I could not deny it. He had the evidence. A common-sense kind of guy, Tech has never been interested in magic — except to figure out how the tricks really worked.

That Friday night, after the dishes were done, I found my purse and tried to give my son a few bucks.

He shook his head, refusing. He’d seen the news by then. And even though the story was just unfolding, I think he felt the weight of what had happened in Connecticut.

I moved closer to him. We stand eye to eye these days, and I was surprised to see that night his eyes were light brown, the color of cream soda. I pressed a few single dollar bills against his chest. “It’s the last one! And it fell out all by itself.”

“It just knew to stop holding on.” Tech shrugged. “Kind of like you need to stop holding on, Mom.”

I reached out a hand to touch Tech’s shoulder, but he is squirmy these days, and he moved away. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like being touched.

“Will you just put my tooth in with the others?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. How did he know about the purple box in the corner of my husband’s closet?

“Dad showed me,” Tech answered, reading my mind. “I used to think it was weird that you guys kept my teeth. But now… I get it.”

I know it's a little creepy, but...

I know it’s a little creepy, but…

I walked upstairs and sat on the floor inside the quiet closet. As I removed the top to the old blue shoebox, I was surprised by the oddities the box held: an old watch, an ancient skull (a gift given from my father-in-law to my husband, before he went off to medical school), and the purple jewelry box with the psychedelic rectangular pattern on the cover. I opened the purple clamshell and plopped the last of Tech’s baby teeth inside before snapping it shut.

I know that most people do not save teeth. I know plenty of people who think saving teeth is pretty disgusting. I suppose I saved Tech’s teeth because the wonky, misshapen bits are little perfectly-imperfect pieces-parts of a person I love, something that I can hold in my hands. I suppose, one day, those little nubs will serve as a reminder of a simpler, sweeter time: a time when my boy wanted cuddles and Goldfish crackers and not much else.

I shook the purple box.

It sounded like diamonds rattling around in there.

And then I thought about all those kids from the Sandy Hook Elementary School.

I thought of their teeth.

I know it’s weird, but grief isn’t logical.

I thought of all those baby teeth that hadn’t yet fallen out.

Of all those permanent teeth that hadn’t yet come in.

How nothing is permanent.

How everything is breakable.

And I wept, alone in the closet.

Because the sky isn’t up there; it is between us.

I have never been a hovercraft parent, but right now, I’m holding on like one of my son’s stubborn teeth: not ready to let go.

What personal mementos of your children are most precious to you?

tweet me @rasjacobson

I’m unplugging until December 27th, but I want to wish those of you who celebrate a Merry Christmas. And to everyone else, I hope you enjoy the time off with family and friends. Let’s get ready to ring in 2013.

58 Comments

Posted in Parenting

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Guest Posts for 2013: #SoWrong

Posted on December 17, 2012 | 31 comments

SoWrong

In 2013, I asked some of my blogging buddies to share their most embarrassing moments from which they learned…something.

I’m kicking things off on December 20, 2012 by sharing my own tale of horror and humiliation.

I can hear y’all now.

You’re all: Omigosh, she’s probably recycling something.

Like remember the time she didn’t back-up her computer?

Or remember the time she fell down the stairs?

Or remember the time she went dancing alone and got all dizzy?

Or remember the time she got into a confrontation in an elevator?

Or remember the time she wore her son’s pants all day?

Or the time she bought meat off a truck?

Yeah.

But this one is worse.

Here’s the deliciously tasty line-up of awesome-sauciness:

January 7: Renée Schuls-Jacobson • “Fifty Shades of Humiliation Featuring a Guy in a Gray Suit” @rasjacobson

Jan 11 – Daniel Friedland • author of Down Aisle Ten @danielfriedland “Lessons From a New York Vagrant”

Feb 8 – Tori Nelson of The Ramblings • @toristoptalking “Romancing the Throne”

Feb 15 – Jules of Go Jules Go • @juliedavidoski “I Love You, But I’m Not In Love With You.“

March 15 – Peg of Pegoleg •  “True Crime”

April 12 – Darla of She’s a Maineiac  •  “Dear Diary, I Hate You”

May 17 – Misty of Misty’s Laws  • “To Bra or Not To Bra”

May 31  – Margaret Lawrensen of Life in LaRoque “Je Ne Comprends Pas”

June 14 – Susie of Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride • @susielindau

July 19- Blogdramedy • @blogdramedy

August 16 – Jess Witkins of The Happiness Project • @jesswitkins

September 13 – Lisha Fink of The Lucky Mom • @lishafink

October 18– Amber West of A Day Without Sushi • @amberwest

November 15 – Kiran Ferrandino of Masala Chica • @kiranferrandino

December 13 – Mary Nelligan of ateachblemom • @ateachablemom

NOTE: If you would like to share a humiliating moment on your own blog, or if you have already written about one, send the link here! It’s nice to commiserate with others who have survived embarrassment and lived to tell about it.

31 Comments

Posted in Guest Writers

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Pushing Through, a Lesson Learned by Elena Aitken

Posted on December 14, 2012 | 39 comments
Click on the teacher lady's nose to find links to other people who posted in this series.

Click on the teacher lady’s nose to find links to other people who posted in the #LessonLearned Series.

I’ve been thinking about how grateful I am to all the writers who wrote posts as part of my Lessons Learned series this year. Each post has been beautiful; each lesson, unique.

Isn't she purty-ful? Yeah, well she's a great writer, too.

Isn’t she purty-ful? Yeah, well she’s a great writer, too.

Author Elena Aitken is the last writer in this series. And her piece arrived at precisely the right time for me. Because I am struggling with some serious writer’s block. Elena’s words are the greatest gift I could have ever asked for this holiday season.

If you don’t know Elena, you should. A busy mom, Elena is also a wonderful blogging friend and a prolific writer. I was fortunate to interview her when her book Sugar Crash was hot off the press, and she’s written a new book since then!

After you read her piece below, you will want to follow Elena on Facebook or on Twitter. Take a peek at her website if you’d like to subscribe to her blog. Her newest book, Hidden Gifts, would make a great present. Just like your words were to me today, Elena.

• • •
Pushing Through by Elena Aitken
When Renée asked me to write a piece for her Lessons Learned series, I said yes without hesitation because sure, I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. I mean, I must have something to offer. No problem, right?
Then it came to write it.And nothing.

A gentle nudge from Renée, “Don’t forget. You promised. Um, can I get that soon?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it. No problem.”

But…it was a problem. The thing is, ever since Renée asked me months ago, I’ve been thinking about what I would write about. I read all the other posts, and…I worried. I mean, what on earth was I going to say? What could I offer that this talented list of writers and bloggers hasn’t already said with more skill and grace then I could hope for?

I made notes. I stared at my computer screen. I started writing five different posts. I deleted five different posts.

And then, I worried some more.

I couldn’t think of a thing. Was it possible that I haven’t learned any lessons at all?

I was moments away from emailing Renée to tell her I’d changed my mind, and I couldn’t do it after all.

And then, there it was.

That voice in my head.

“Trust yourself,” the voice said.

Hearing voices in my head isn’t unusual for me. After all, I’m a writer. I hear voices all the time.

But, I’ve heard those two words before.

A lot.

• My dad said them when I was learning how to ride a bike.

• Ms. Montgomery, my junior high drama teacher, said them before I went on stage to perform my monologue.

• My mother said them when my twins were newborns, and I didn’t know the first thing about being a mom.

• My writing partners scribble them in the margins of my work when I’m wrestling with a scene, or a character that just won’t cooperate.

• My friend and training partner will say them to me when I’m nervous about a race and doubting my training.

• My husband says them to me when I’m struggling with a tough decision.

That voice in my head is a beautiful medley of all the voices from my life and its tune is constantly changing. But the message remains the same. And every time I hear those words, “Trust yourself.” Whether they are spoken aloud or quietly in my mind—I do.

Because I might not have the right answer, I could make the wrong decision, say something stupid, trip and fall, or make a mistake. But I might not. And when I shut out all the noise telling me what I should say/do/believe, and actually trust myself; it turns out that I know myself a whole lot better than I thought I did.

So, maybe I’m a slow learner, or maybe it’s a lesson worth learning over and over again, but it’s the most important lesson that I continue to learn.

What helps you push through to complete a project?

tweet us at @elenaaitken and @rasjacobson

39 Comments

Posted in Guest Writers

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Make a Wish: It’s 12:12 on 12-12-12!

Posted on December 12, 2012 | 53 comments
Jacobson.Bar.Mitzvah.-02407

Dad & me, dancing at my son’s bar mitzvah!

My father is 75 today!

My arithmetic-loving son wants permission to get out of class to call his arithmetic-loving grandfather to wish him a happy birthday at 12:12 PM today. You know, because he is missing out right now on account of having to go to sleep.

“Stuff like this only happens to certain people!” Tech reminded me. “You have to recognize it!”

Turns out TechSupport is right.

December, 12, 2012 or 12-12-12 will be the last date of its kind – when all three numericals in a date are the same – until January, 1, 2101. That’s 88 years from now.

However, there is a bit of a dark cloud looming over my father’s big celebration. You know, the thing about the world ending in 9 days — on December 21, 2012? We have all heard this prediction by now, yes?

It occurred to me that the usual gift I give my dad might not be the best choice this year. See, I usually make my father a calendar each December featuring photographs of family members. But if my dad only has 9 days to enjoy his present, I figured, what’s the point?

I started brainstorming cheap gifts other options that might be good to give my father, assuming the world is going to end in a little over a week.

Here’s what I have come up with:

51. Fruit From Harry & David. Because nothing says “I love you” like Royal Riviera Pears. I’m pretty sure my father could polish off a box of 9 pears in 9 days. On second thought, maybe I’ll just spring for the box of 6. Dad isn’t big on wasting things.

2. Tickets to a Show. Gotta tell ya. There isn’t much going on in Syracuse in the way of entertainment right now. But I think my dad would enjoy getting jiggy to some Gaelic music. He might love Enter the Haggis, scheduled to perform at the Westcott Theater a few days before things get ugly.

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Don’t think about your arteries. Just eat me.

3. A Gift Card to A Local Deli & Ice Cream Shoppe. My father stopped eating red meat and dairy over 20 years ago when he learned he had high cholesterol. Knowing he has just 9 days left, I’d bring my dad to a great deli and make start with a toasted sesame bagel loaded with twice the cream cheese. I’d encourage him to stick around for a hot corned beef sandwich with mustard for lunch. If he is a good boy and polishes off his hot pastrami & brisket and his knish, I’d send him to Carvel for a brownie sundae. Surely, this is not the time to be heart smart. Or kosher.

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Call me crazy, but I think my dad would dig this doll.

4. Sex Toys. With only a few days left to live, why hold back? I’m thinking it’s time for my dad to pull out the silk scarves and try at least five of the Fifty Shades with my mother. You know, if they aren’t already doing that.

mariuana165. Drugs. My father has never inhaled. With only a few days left on the planet, I would get him a baggy filled with green sticky bud, rustle up some magic mushrooms, maybe haul out that betel nut I’ve been saving for a rainy day, and give it to my father to share with my mother. What’s to lose? Those two crazy kids can stare at their hands for hours. They can ride unicorns down the rainbow or chat with imaginary parrots. Hell, they can take naked pictures of themselves rubbing food onto the green velvet wallpaper that’s been hanging in the hall since 1963. If they ration carefully, they can enjoy themselves for 9 days straight and never come down.

Of course, I don’t really believe the world is going to end on December 21st.

That’s why it is now necessary to smother my father in a some genuine daughter-love.

  • Thanks for coming to all my gymnastics meets and dance recitals, Dad. I felt your love radiating from the stands.
  • Thanks him for poking your pointer finger into the middle of my back. You definitely trained me to stand up straight.
  • Thanks for yelling at me that time I threw away the pennies. You were right. It was an ungrateful thing to do, and small change really does add up.
  • Remember the time that you sat me on a raft in the Atlantic Ocean, and I was scared, and you promised you wouldn’t let go… and you didn’t. Thanks for teaching me about trust. I know you do not make idle promises.
  • I need you to know that I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. That you set the standard against which I measure every man. That you taught me about learning from doing. About finishing what I start, whether the outcome is good or bad.
  • About standing by one’s partner, when everything is blue skies and cotton candy – but also when the toilet is over-flowing and there is poop everywhere you turn.

Oh, I also need to tell my dad that when I saw him on Saturday, I removed a particular object from his desk. The desk that he is careful to keep just so. Unfortunately, I cannot tell him which item I took or where I put it.

At first, he will freak out, but eventually he will realize that I am joking.

Like I’m joking about these crappy gifts.

We got my dad something cool, and – G-d willing — he will be able to enjoy it as he watches the next Syracuse basketball game, scheduled for December 27th.

IMG_0579

Happy birthday, Dad.

And congratulations on making it to ¾ of a century.

Whatever you are doing, please keep doing it.

PS: By the way, that thing we got you? That’s your Hanukkah present, too. No calendar this year. You know, just in case. So don’t hold your breath.

What gift would you recommend giving to someone whose special day falls between now and Armageddon?

tweet me @rasjacobson

 

53 Comments

Posted in When Life Doesn't Fit in a File Folder

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Teenage Resistance To The Teachable Moment

Posted on December 10, 2012 | 67 comments
Dr Brown's Cream Soda

Dr Brown’s Cream Soda (Photo credit: stevegarfield)

TechSupport was relaxing, drawing in his notebook to complete an assignment for his art class.

“Can I show you something?” my husband interjected. He used to be a pretty good artist back in the day. “I want to show you how to look at that can of soda and really see it.”

“I kind of just want to draw,” Tech said.

My husband pulled a chair over to the kitchen table where our son was sitting. “I just want to show you something,” he said. “Will you just look?”

Tech kept his eyes on his notebook. “I will.” His hands gripped his pencil tightly. “In a little while.”

I addressed my husband. “Not every moment has to be a teachable moment…”

My husband glared at me. “Don’t do that.” He held up one hand. “You’re always undermining me. I just want to show him something.”

Insulted, my husband pushed back from the table, scraped the chair’s legs against the hardwood floors, and he stormed off into another room.

Tech’s hand continued to move. He wasn’t really looking at his can of soda. He was just coloring.

“You know,” I said. “Instead of making a big stink, you could’ve just listened to what he wanted to say.”

Tech bit his lip and continued drawing.

After a while, Hubby reappeared. “Now can I show you something?”

I could feel how much my husband wanted to show our son what he knew. How he wanted our child to see the world differently. How he wanted him to see shadows and light. How he wanted him to see a different perspective.

Tech looked at me, then at his father. I could see he was biting the inside of his cheek.

I imagine he felt outnumbered.

There are always two of us, and only one of him. He tries so hard to please.

My husband started again. He showed our son how the eye can lie. How colors can be different, not uniform. How a brown can of soda isn’t really brown when you are drawing it. If you look, it is gray and maroon. Even orange in places.

“That’s all I wanted to show you,” my husband said with some degree of satisfaction.

After all, he got what he wanted.

“Thanks,” Tech said with a blend of gratitude and sarcasm in his voice.

My husband’s cell phone rang and he answered it.

And Tech continued to draw with his brown pencil.

Not gray, no maroon, no orange. He only used brown: a Good Son’s quiet act of defiance.

Tech’s completed drawing

What my husband didn’t know was that Tech and I had plans. We’d said that while he drew his picture of Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda, that I would write about the same topic.

I guess it didn’t go quite as planned.

Or maybe we all got it done in our own way.

Michel Foucault once wrote: “Where there is power there is also resistance.” Anyone experiencing any resistance lately?

67 Comments

Posted in Parenting

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One Sill A Bull: A Word Game

Posted on December 7, 2012 | 54 comments

Thanks to CharNewcomb for the use of this photo @WANA Commons

Y’all know I love playing around with words, right?

Well.

I found this old writing prompt that I used to use when I was teaching English as a second language to 3rd graders.

It sounds easy, but it’s not as easy as you think.

Write the longest sentence you can in which each word is only one syllable.

For example:

He put his hand on his belt and said, “The lush, green berm on the side of the road would be a good place to take a leak — if I have to go real bad.”

See how long you can go.

If you know what I mean.

The person who goes the longest and creates something that is stunningly beautiful or hilariously funny is gonna get a special sumthin-sumthin from me. Go! I will accept comments until the end of the day, at which time I will start counting words.

tweet me @rasjacobson

Entrants may not use one single word repeatedly. Now that we have caught THAT little loophole, folks may continue. Thank you for making me laugh, Susie Lindau.

The winner of the contest is on thehomefrontandbeyond.Holy mad skills! Send me your snail mail address, and your sumthin-sumthin will be put in the mail immediately!

54 Comments

Posted in Grammar

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Tingo Tuesday: Tell Me About A Blue Smile

Posted on December 4, 2012 | 73 comments
Cover of

Cover via AmazonIt’s Tingo Tuesday!

It’s Tingo Tuesday!

The first Tuesday of each month, I share a word from The Meaning of Tingo & Other Extraordinary Words From Around the World by Adam Jacot de Boinod.

Today, I’m telling you about a Welsh word.

Have you ever been on the receiving end of an insincere or mocking smile? Well, then you got the “glas wen.” Literally, a blue smile.

There is this chick that I know. My husband golfs with her husband. She hates me. And she flashes me a big, fat “glas wen” every time we run into each other, which — luckily — isn’t often.

I love that other cultures have language for the actions and concepts for which we haven’t necessarily got the right words.

So now it’s your turn!

Leave me a comment about a time when you received a “blue smile” and get a complete makeover for just $79.99.

Seriously, if I love your comment the way my husband loves his green blanket, I’ll slip a photo of you into my sidebar so folks can check you out all month!

If you are not a blogger, don’t worry. I have plans for you, too.

This month’s winner is Jess Witkins. To see the comment that won her a month of linky-love, click HERE. It is a masterpiece!

Tell me about a (real or fictional) “glas wen” moment. What happened? How bad was it?

tweet me @rasjacobson

You have until December 31, to enter a comment! The winner will be revealed on the first Tuesday in January!

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Posted in Tingo Tuesday

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