Is Everyone in the Building making Stuffed Cabbage?

Ode to Ann Bancroft’s very best guy. 

We binged a few Mel Brooks movies this week and we quote-it’s talent. Either you got it or you don’t.  unquote!

Dear Mr. Mel Kaminsky a.k.a. Mel Brooks.

The consummate Steadfast lodestar of comic behaviors almost 99 and doing fine.

You embodied the role of a Producer (1968) when you hid jewels in one of The Twelve Chairs(1970.)

Your pairing of Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder got some Saddles Blazing (1974) which left you in a

state of High Anxiety (1977.) 

It was then that you knew it was time for a Silent Movie (1976) and it gave you time to prepare for Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993.) 

You had us when he appointed a new sheriff, his friend Ahchoo.

So today we say Zey gezunt Mr. Brooks and may you continue to make sure we Enter Laughing.(1967.)

Blintzes with a side of Nostalgia!

It’s 4:45 when we begin thinking about dinner.
We have an hour to get ready.

We put on a new blouse and hope It won’t get a food stain on it. This is new.
We walk out the door.

We’re on line at our go to restaurant of choice. Long line but we are in the door, getting closer to the table.
We grab some after dinner mints at the counter and a couple of tooth picks while we wait. If we order the corned beef and it is stringy the toothpicks will come in handy.
Oy, the beeper they gave us to hold just went off.
We push through the crowd, disregard the dirty looks. We’re in and being escorted to our table. “Excuse me sir maybe you got a booth? My husband has a bad knee, is a lefty and needs to sit on the outside and with his leg facing out. TMI-
Again a dirty look, alas we are sitting.

Here honey have a pickle, it’s a good mix and they have the sour tomatoes you like.
We catch up with out friends about medical stuff and get it out of the way.

I point to my mouth as to signal our friend that a piece of coleslaw is stuck to her lipstick. Yup, not a good look at any age.
So we open the menu of oh so many choices.
Excited that the two sides with our main course we can “substitute” did you ever? A potato knish or potato pancakes instead of baked or mashed.
Glad we swigged a little mylanta on our way back into the house because we forgot oh, well something.
Our orders are in.
Only took twenty minutes for four people to decide. Not like it is ever an easy order going through the book of choices. Unless you had a willy for something. Like you could taste it.
“Saul my friend says to her husband of all the many items to choose from a hamburger deluxe with sweet potato fries is what you are getting.”Saul says to my husband, can you believe with everything going on in the world you would think if I want a hamburger it would maybe, just maybe once go unnoticed and not a gonza magilla. Do I tell her a side of balsamic dressing is not going to matter in her salad if she orders the fried chicken as her main?”
Ok, so we get our food and only one of us returns something- a veritable miracle.

My friend sent her fried chicken back, she only likes dark meat. She says go ahead eat. Your meatloaf won’t taste good cold.
So we talk over one another. We know every detail about their grandkids camp experience and how long they waited at the airport when they went to Aruba this summer.

The table is cleared, a new dessert menu is handed to us. Wait, oh my they have the Boston Cream Pie tonight. I ask my husband if he wants to share, I suggest four forks and one dessert. You would think I was taking their toys away.
No, my friends husband Saul says I am getting my own. Under her breath I hear my friend whisper “ maybe get the jello, you ate every sweet potato fry. Then “ give a kick” he says to her- mind your own sweet potato fries, did I mention that you inhaled the potato pancakes like they were going out of style.

Goodnight, it was great seeing you we yell out the car window. Same time, same place- next week. We took the flyer at the door it says the specials are chicken in the pot or flanken. See you in the morning at water aerobics. Vayismir I am so full.

On this day April 15 in between mit’n drinnen, we’ll stop at the pitch and putt in our local Calaveras County. We’ll be careful to watch for the jumping frogs as it is their high season.

With dejavu on our breath we’ll turn up the radio that is set to Cousin Brucie on our local WABC am.

The top is down on our new yellow mustang convertible, our hair (what is left of it) blows in the late summer breeze ( which makes us feel fine.) We add some pedal to the metal and sing along to the catchy phrases “ in the village the mighty village The Lion Sleeps tonight.” “In this whole world, you can love but one girl. Let me be that one girl. For I’ll be true to you.” We will wait patiently, we understand the Duke of Earl is about to arrive. We hear he’s shrouded in Blue Velvet the kind that’s softer than satin in the light.

We heard they added some new holes at the aptly named Periwinkle Pitch and Putt. One hole is named after Mark Twain and one named after Shania. We are thinking maybe his great niece. We’ll try their new chili dogs and awful awfuls. How about a peppermint stick (a la Howard Johnsons) ice cream cone for dessert and call it a near perfect walk down memory lane.
As we wake up to devastating news on the daily, in the core of our arena, we thought exhuming a moment in time when the term “homegrown criminals” only existed on Breaking Bad, when access to weapons were not readily available to 14 year old children and when the alarm system in our house (who had those growing up?)- didn’t go off because armed villains were coming into your safe haven to steal the black and white T.V.’s. you watched Bonanza on.

So just for today, pick up a T.V. Guide and look to see what time Gene Rayburn is hosting The Match Game on NBC. We are all in Jeopardy.

Chapter One “In the Land of VPL’s.” It all began while we waited for a parking spot at the Boys Farmers Market (which is the $1.00 store for fruits and veggies). It’s close by, right on Military Trail, a veritable bargain and if I tell you —fresh!

So we sit and painstakingly wait until someone slowly wheels the stocked shopping cart back to their car, searches for their keys, loads the car, chases after the jar of herring in cream sauce that rolled away and finally removes the sun visor from the dashboard. A zuchen vey.
The name of the place could be changed from The Boys to the “I’ll trade you my spot for the container of prepared lasagna I didn’t get cause the line was too long.” Lach.

Btw if you open the cantaloup container put it in tupperware cause getting the lid back on is a gansa megillah.

With their swimming aerobic class over, a quick shower at the gym, the ladies are off to beat the crowd and get a coveted spot. Today the strawberry containers are two for the price of one. Could you plotz?

They can serve them next to the bridge mix (chocolate covered nuts and…) at the canasta game they are hosting later. They are using the new card table they bought at the furniture store that specializes in small furniture. The table should fit well in their new condo. It is next door to 3 ggg’s, the almost like a New York Deli restaurant. Sorta.

Ok, sidebar back to the VPL’s – (visual panty line leggings.)
They feel like a combo of spandex, helancas and stretch pants. A good switch from dungarees, pedal pushers and tummy control skorts.

You can get them cheap at the going out of business flea market on Sample Rd.) The handwritten sign says “one size fits nobody over the age of 25.” Cheaper by the dozen if you like the color maroon. The booth is next to the hawaiian print men’s short sleeve shirts which are bogo (buy one, get one) – like the light mayo at Publix. We got enough mayo for 6 months. So many bargains we’re plotzing.

So we made it through the (you shouldn’t know from it) parking lot. With a little Mazel, coupled with a work out routine for balancing, we’ll come back next week, wait for a place to park, watch the brigade and who knows the blueberries could be two for the price of… Have a good go to humor Sunday. b’h

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No Rhyme-All Reason. Landlubbers, drindl skirts and bell bottoms. Tennis sweaters, weejun penny loafers and madras blouses. Typewriters, wax dipped monogram letter seals and loose leaf notebooks. Bon Bons- jujubes, chuckles and double bubble. Chocolate yoo hoo’s, dairy queen sundaes and red licorice strings. Dave Clark Five, Connie Francis and Charlotte Russe . Dobie Gillis, pink erasers, papagallos. Loden pea-coats vinyl jackets, mary jane patent leathers, and white shoe polish for ked sneakers. Apple Brown Betty in Swanson tv dinners, buitoni ravioli in the can and potato sticks. Sewing class, emenee toy trumpets and the morning show “Just for Fun.” The Mikado, Pirates of Penzance and Flower Drum Song. Won-ton soup, chopped suey and egg foo young. Peanut Butter and Jelly on Ritz Crackers with Campbells tomato soup. Spaldings, Jacks and 45’s. Army, Navy Stores, Kresge’s Dept. Store and Alexanders. Mohair sweaters, shift dresses, mini and maxi skirts, baby doll dresses, colored tights- stirrup pants. Science projects on Oak Tag, pencil sharpeners and No. 8 pencils. Revlon Rum Raisin lipstick and Mary Quant make-up. Shalimar, Joy, Ambush, jade east, english leather and Old Spice. Po-ke-no, parchessi and Simon. Bonanza, Gunsmoke and Wagon Train.

Make it a throw back Wednesday! 

Matzoh on The Shelves

Twas the night before Pesach and all through the house.
The smell of the brisket,
Added water to our mouth.
The chicken soup was simmering.
To a boil it was brought.
Our liberation from slavery.
From which we were fraught.
With water turning to blood,
Frogs, lice and flies.
Livestock and locusts.
No firstborns survived.
The Bible unveils,
With g-d on our side.
Letting the Israelites leave Egypt.
The Gates opened wide.
Now Asher, now Sadie, now Evelyn,
Now Moe.
On Manny, on Gertie on Sarah, on Joe.
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall.
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.
The children were ready to ask the four kashes.
Ma nishtan halailah hazeh mikol haleilot?
The questions all answered, the food was dipped twice.
No one was naughty, tonight just be nice.
And mamma in her kerchief and papa in his cap.
The dishes all done, they’re ready for a nap.
The afikoman was eaten.
Sugar plums danced in our heads.
Our inalienable rights.
Erased all the dread.
Chag Pesach Sameach one and all.