Have an egg roll Mr. Goldstone.
Have a Matzoh Ball, maybe two.
As we celebrate liberation we’ll stand proudly as a Jew.
Leave an empty chair at the sedar table.
Pray a hostage will show up.
Take a sip of Manichewitz, from the half full sedar cup.
Pray that pestilence, war and famine.
Finds their way outside the door.
On the precipice of unlevened bagels.
We will Daven to end the War.
So Mr. Goldstone here’s your matzoh ball laden with a carrot maybe two.

  So on this first night of Seder.

  A little fuss, a little muss.

“Smote the land of Egypt,”

   On the eve of Exodus.

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.

When the planning you do for the immediate future coincides with destiny you consider it a match and proceed with caution.
With no maudlin overtones we get the bigger television, incorporate it into a Barbecue and watch a Movie night and sail into the-new category of the “what we have planned,” with hope that it manifests into our syllabus of events. Run on sentence.
On the precipice of one door closing we will optimistically run into the arms of fate. Here’s to enthusiastically swinging the new door open and welcoming our next room crowded with Bashert.

The new rage on how to age with grace.

Who can touch their toes?

As you are on the way down traveling south past your new hip, you might bypass the pins and screws in your knee or perhaps an ankle. 

Destination our newly coiffed toe nails. We stopped at “Dr. You Nailed This,” before we picked up six bialys to freeze from The Boys.

We change our shirt, put on some lipstick and get ready to meet our canasta group at Poppies for the early bird dinner/lunch for tomorrow.

 We ask to have our table changed  a few times as the A/C was  blowing right on us. We put on our new cardigan sweater we got at the Flea Market on Sample Rd. 

After we pool our medical updates and order a cocktail we ask for the bread to be heated. We then wait for 20 minutes until we see our waiter again. Ok then, the conversation ensues with a new pill for this, a new procedure for that. As long as our “funny bone” is intact- we got this. A tennis game, a round of golf a pilates class or two. 

We acclimate to the “back nine” with our new cataract less foresight, becoming our new hindsight. 

So just for today we will put on our prescription less rose colored glasses. We will go to the we got lucky dept. at Bloomingdales and be grateful when we get a text that a table opened up at the new Mediterranean restaurant on Federal Highway. They give us all the hummus and Baba ganoush we can eat as we watch the belly dancer shake her age appropriate belly fat from table to table. 😎 Next stop fro-yo to claim our free (after ten times punched on the card) dessert.

Have a great Thursday – a.k.a. senior discount day at Publix.

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.

Spin your Golden Threads.

And just like that Father Time swoops in and says you know that Plan B, and second choice not from column A – we’re there.

As Father time always wins, we are obedient as the advantages of medicare, metro card savings on each ride and Tuesday two for one at CVS and Shop-Rite are certainly appealing.

Although aging body parts are not optional our mentation and get up and go attitudes certainly can be.

So, as the Muse Descends, we listen to the percussion as we turn the beat around (Gloria Gaynor) and choose to hang with the people who help to add warm blanket comfort. Naysayers need not apply.

We champion looking the other way “mamala” when our friend repeats stories and we wait an extra minute while strolling over to Lexington Avenue with a slowing down walking buddy. There but for the grace…

Blessings duly noted- as at least we aren’t on hold for 45 minutes listening to Creedence Clear Water on instant repeat while trying to make a new patient appointment at the dermatologist who takes our insurance. Run on sentences abound lately.

So just for today, stop perseverating over unanswered texts, wear a new shirt that has been lingering in your closet from an Amazon order a year ago and add an extra topping on your Haagen Daz coffee ice cream. Make it a Great Sunday! Bh

A.K.A. Art Linkletter was the consummate raconteur through media. He collected and shared other people’s stories. What made people laugh was his forte and in turn created television shows to encourage laughter.

A feel good quote of his was “things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” He lived a long, ingratiating and from all accounts well integrated life. Adept at putting people at ease, his pronounced talent. He worked with his son, how cool. He spent lots of time in his career discovering the underbelly of what makes people tick. He was the straight man to children and brought out the unposed honesty that spills “out of the mouths of babes.”

As a belly laugh enabler. “Kids Say the Darndest Things” was a show that he hosted from 1945-1969. It then had an encore performance from 1998-2000 co-hosted with Bill Cosby. Don’t get me started about character malfunction. Anyway, back to laughter.

Laughter is…the best medicine. Belly grabbing, breathless, endorphin producing and free. Sit next to the funny person. Grab moments watching re-runs of Sid Caesar, Red Skelton and Carol Burnett. They were funny and knew it. When Jon Stewart said good-bye a large group of us were dismayed. The Rodney Dangerfields and the Andrew Dice Clays stood up with silly, gross humor- none the less funny.

When Jack Benny cradled his chin with his hand, we laughed. Elaine May and Mike Nichols “Telephone” skit was improvisational humor through uncanny synergy. 

Nobody creates laughter in us like first time questions from kids.

Not only their silly ( bathroom talk) or the result of tickles, but the Art Linklater-esque questions they ask. The bi-products of first time experiences, sheer innocence and delightful naivety— priceless.

 So for today go for the life altering, for the moment,  hiccup producing gut laugh. “Forget your troubles come on get happy, chase all your cares away.”