ATE
Sometimes all it takes is 20 minutes of insane courage for something great to happen.
The 8 ball- eight card fit-eight hands playing at two tables – 8 is enough- Dinner at 8. 18 is chai – . Eight heart stealing Gomberg kid’s . One thing the number 8 symbolizes is the ability to make decisions. With a legacy of parents who got a babysitter and then drove around trying to decide where to go and what to do, we have taken our primordial history and flipped it. Date book in hand, organize the games, get the tickets and not letting ontogeny recapitulate phylogeny. Be decisive right or wrong. Make a decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn’t make decisions-end quote- 😎

The Pythagoreans called the number eight “Ogdoad” and considered it the “little holy number”. Number 8 – make it a Great Sunday!

On Life’s Terms.
When “The suddenly’s” happen with more frequency we take stock of how to best preserve our closeness through memories.
When dear, long standing friends show up we double hug, catch up on the so and so’s and order our vodka with lemons to accompany our shared appetizers.
And so on we went, picking up where we left off, recalling memories that only we remember. Soon our drinks are gone:

“Take care of yourself. . . .”

“We ’ll talk again soon. . . .”

Sometimes I wonder which one of us will be the first to not answer.
Make it a memorable Saturday.

“I See Friends Shaking Hands- saying how do you do.”

When the leaves were orange and the living was easy. What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? Why do the people in the front of the picture appear so much bigger than the people toward the back? Out of the mouths, when life was oh so easy.

The days when Ozzie and Harriet made parenting look like a breeze and we were pretty certain Susan Lucci never used J-date or Match. Com to help find yet another husband. 

We re-dialed after our friends line was busy the first time and screeched with excitement, Conrad Birdie style, over our anticipated coed- girl/boy party that evening. We left it up to Wally and Beaver to make  sure there would  be enough Fresca and Potato sticks. They were heavily endowed with the Cleaver organizational skills 

The back ground sound on our portable radio as we primped for the evening  was set to Cousin Bruce’s Saturday Night Rock and Roll Party. We crooned to Build Me Up Buttercup while we sat under a hot dryer with beer can sized rollers in our hair. We were almost ready as we brushed away the fumes from our eyes left by aqua spray. 

The decision to curl our hair rather than iron it straight was a good one, it came out just right. Getting ready was the beginning of the excitement. Our new madras blouse,  alpaca sweater and matching “skort” (remember?) hung prominently in the front of our closet right above our shiny, new cordovan colored weejuns. Bright, new Penny, dated 1969 heads up in place.

A touch of revlon blush and a glimmer of “coffee bean“ lipstick proceeded a spritz of Shalimar and we were on our way. 

With dejavu on our breath we can still euphorically recall how it felt as we unbuttoned the wooden clasps that kept out new Pea Coats in tact.

We proudly walked in, en masse as if we were auditioning for the Miss Pre-Teen of America contest.  

The boys gathered on one side of the room as the girls sifted through the 45’s on the other. At this point there was no bottle to spin in sight. Would the Angels sing tonight as our Soldier Boys danced under the Blue Moon in the Still of the Night? We snapped our fingers in unison to Brian Wilson’s tune-

 “If you should ever leave me. Though life would still go on believe me. The world could show nothing to me. So what good would living do me? G-d only knows what I’d be without you. This just could have been the theme to the impending heartbreaks along our way. 

The evening was a success as we twisted and shouted and moved around as we were invited to the dance floor to do the Loco-Motion.

The specialty years of pre-teening had a wonderful life of its own. We made room for our daydreams filled with Johnny Mathis lyrics and wondered if we would ever sit starry eyed on a rainbow. We hold tightly to our memories of days where we would “climb way up to the top of the stairs and all our cares would just drift right into space.” All the while Jay and the Americans knew as the “lion slept tonight” those were our “Magic Moments.” Have a good Monday. 

And Repeat!

Dear Acid Reflux,
Where were you all our lives?
Tums, Rolaids and Pepto.
Helped our parents stomachs thrive.
Proton uptake inhibitors.
Add an endoscopic search.
Waiting for results, clearly keeps us in the lurch.
We love to eat pastrami, deli mustard piled high.
A half a sandwich later.
How will we survive?
We take our little purple pill.
Go along our merry way.
Hello Acid Reflux are you really here to stay?
A cough and then a tickle.
Is our stomach that high up?
Please hand me the mylanta,
Perhaps a half a cup.
Our stomachs have gotten older.
Our eyes still on the pie.
The days of a la mode, have quickly passed us by.
Let’s try the milk from Almonds.
Lactose intolerant too.
We are so very over, the limitations in our view.
A spritz of just plain seltzer, a ginger ale was quite the cure.
Our dietary habits, we need to re-explore.
Forget the mozzarella-deep fried, sauce on the side.
Our days of grabbing a slice,
Makes our stomach wanna hide.
We love a little bolognese.
Tossed on pasta piled high.
We wake up at 2:30 and hear our stomachs cry.
Now we’re planning dinners.
That are as bland as all get out.
Dear Acid Reflux, shut the door on your way out.

2023 Summer Forecast.

Sunny with a side of Optimism.

“What does believing things will turn out right have to do with making them turn out right?” – Everything it seems. Blame it on the Club. If I tried it with a hybrid- then maybe.

Summertime and the living is easy, fish are jumping and the cotton is high. After A Hard Day’s Night – I want Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a Splendor in the Grass chaser. As I approach the Autumn of my Youth- I ask “What kind of fool am I?” “I want to come home to you and find the things that you do will make me feel alright”ah! Paul . So as we roll out the hazy, lazy, crazy days of summer, the days of soda and pretzels and beer, (well maybe Tito’s), I’d like to go to the”drive- in on Friday nights.” As we see the pyramids along the Nile, standing near “Moon River” we feel grateful to be out of the “heat wave.” Could this be magic, as the lion sleeps tonight in the jungle, the mighty jungle? Who knows, could be it’s only just out of reach down the block, on a beach, under a tree. Tonight? We call on wishful thinking as we put on our yellow polka dot bikini and set our sights on the beach boys. We find ourselves dancing in the streets, eating icicles, popsicles and simply remember our favorite things. Are there lilac trees in the heart of town. Can your hear a lark in any other part of town? Does enchantment pour out of every door no it’s just on the street where you live. Wouldn’t you like to ride in my beautiful balloon? We can sing a song and sail along the silver sky we can fly, we can fly. Girl, I heard you’re getting married, heard you’re getting married this time you’re really sure. So, we’re going to the chapel of love. Love summer weddings. We are the lucky ones, some people never get to do all we got to do, now and forever I will always think of you. It only takes a moment for your eyes to meet and then it only takes a moment to be loved a whole life long. So let’s get those good vibrations, cause G- d only knows at any point, in the still of the night – tomorrow may rain so I’ll follow the sun.

Carole Gompertz Ries many thanks for helping to add to the comfort level. #clubs and…

Groaning Older- repeat-

Botox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of our favorite things.
Cadillacs and cataracts, hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of our favorite things.
When the pipes leak,
When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
We simply remember our favorite things,
And then we don’t feel so bad.
Hot tea and muffins and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of our favorite things.
Back pain, confused brains and no need for sinnin’,
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin’,
And we won’t mention how much we forget,
While living in the moment, we’ve less to regret.
When the joints ache,
When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then we remember the great things we’ve had,
And then we don’t feel so bad.”
Make it a fun Friday!

Hail mah jongg long haulers.
The game is here to stay.
From New York to Florida,
They can’t keep us away.

The tables are plenty.

The snacks such a treat.

Sit down, mix the tiles while adjusting your seat.

While Jokers run wild,
And Flowers often dear.
Quints and Concealed hands.
Make winning quite rare.
Leave your worries on the doorstep,
As you enter the room.
That has the sign hanging-
“No Doom, No Gloom.

We talk over each other,
Therapeutic indeed.
Gossip -as part of the way to succeed.
Making the hands and rolling the dice.
Nothing is naughty it Always feels nice.
As the day comes to closing.
And we say our good-byes.
We always remember to keep our eye on the prize.

I would wake up early Friday mornings, open my door and grab The New York Times Restaurant Review Section. When I worked with you in the basement of
1081 3rd Avenue from 1977-1980, Mimi Sheraton was the “it” girl. Her glorious career spanned her lifetime. From chopsticks to soupçons and everything in-between.
We wondered if she would think the carrots were a good addition to the Fritto Misto? Was there going to be a comment about the broccoli holding too much batter? We knew if she reviewed us the Tartufo would be lauded- the ice cream gal that she was. Disguised or not, we waited for her as her aura was recognizable.
Who knows if I had stayed in the restaurant industry between my love for food and all that surrounds it and my flare for penning words if I would have followed Mimi around the corner and down the block into Lutece. The smell of Truffles in season was the initial allure and then Andre Soltner worked his magic. Euphoric recall laced with reverence indeed.
You had me out there taste testing the latest egg roll or asking “what their most popular pasta dish was,”at Tre Amici, often talking loudly to compete with the piano player. Hey, Mimi we wonder what your “Last Supper” was. Baruch Dayan HaEmet.

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