Is Everyone in the Building Making Stuffed Cabbage? Carl Reiner repost I wrote June 29 2020. It’s a Go to Humor kind of day.

“Oh G-d” (1977), The “2000 year old man,” enters the Pearly Gates Laughing.
Estelle Reiner, his wife said it best at Katz’s Deli, “I’ll have what she’s having.” She was married for 64 yrs. to the controller at Rancho Conejo. 98 years funny, he certainly had “The Thrill of it All.” When Morey Amsterdam and Rose Marie reworded phrases to get the rhythm right on The Alan Brady show Carl Reiner called it a Wrap. We knew when Rob Petrie tripped into our living rooms each week on the eponymous “Dick Van Dyke Show” it was really his “Show of Shows.”
Norman Lear’s line in Carl Reiner’s 2017 documentary on aging, “If You’re Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast, was how he lived.
So today Carl, we’ll have our coffee with cream and a little oatmeal in your honor. His credo was “ find your hammock and live in the now.” The transition of time in between “ok, it’s over, to what’s next,” is when his productivity kicked in. HBO featured the documentary- on demand it if you can. The cast of characters, the best of the best. Mel Brooks is hysterical, Dick Van Dyke dances, Norman Lear is brilliant and Carl Reiner’s direction and hosting ever so warm and welcoming. When it was filmed in 2017 they were all Nonagenarians. One thing distinctly portrayed in this work of long livers is that they were passionate and fell in love with lots of things. So Carl we imagine as you enter the pearly gates, we will hear you say to G-d, “so Divine One, if you were commanding a performance your timing was propitious as “The Russians are coming, The Russians are coming”- in this “Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I will pass the baton on to my son Rob and remind him of the line written in 1963 for “it’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. “And in a democracy, it don’t matter how stupid you are, you still get an equal share.” RIP Mr. Reiner -well done.

Let’s live in the moment.
As Life passes us by.
Take our eyes off our phones.
We’ll give it a try.
The hours we are missing turn into days and then weeks.
While sitting and dining with our closest of peeps.
The abundance of notices through a ring or a chime.
Distinguishing sounds as our anticipation climbs.
An email, a text, a memory comes through.
Socializing through electronics is just what we do.
We glance at the table our phones perched on top.
We have tried not to look but we just couldn’t stop.
Put down your iPads and follow along.
We missed what you said, our addictions that strong.
So just for today we will silence our phones.
Cause what’s that important till we get home?
We might miss a picture from 2018, or a Brooks Brothers coupon to purchase something green.

Make it a good Thursday!



Punxsutawney Phil is the name given to a groundhog residing in Young Township near Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, who is the central figure in Punxsutawney’s annual Groundhog Day celebration.

You’ll know there are 6 more weeks in Boca. So whad ya do this week-end? This musing is inspired by Brad Zimmerman. And just who is this Brad guy? Here goes. A sixty something, in great shape guy whose claim to fame is that he opened for Joan Rivers in Atlantic City, before the days of progressive wheel of fortune slots. Love those! (Shout out to Robo.) He’s a New Jersey guy, way of New York, schmoozing his way on Florida stages. Joan Rivers one- liner to him was and I quote ” you are the funniest comic I ever worked with in your price range.” We laughed and then we cried through the evening. He is still waiting for his career to amount to more than bupkes. Also, if his girlfriend Amy from high school gets divorced perhaps he’ll marry her. A Zuchen Vey. Brad’s stereotypical Jewish mother is still giving him “what for’s.” How lucky to still have her nudging him and reminding him he’s not a shmendrik. Her question to him now, ” so when are you going to get off the stage and give me a grandchild? We left after 90 minutes, no intermission, yes we used the facilities beforehand. I kept thinking on our way to get some key lime pie and a nite cap, if only he went into his father’s furniture business he might not be standing alone on a small stage in Palm Beach Gardens. His spiel was audible when the forced A/C wasn’t noisy. Vayismir. Getting to the theater a bit of a gantseh magilla- but not to worry, we don’t shvitz the small stuff. 

It was a humor filled, delightful evening. His shtick had a cute gimmick. The evening was so reminiscent of our days of growing up with similar emotional hand me downs. I can’t type fast enough, I could plotz.

Earlier in the day we spaetzered around The West Palm Beach Antique Fair. 

You shouldn’t know from the thrill-big, huge. With every piece of schmutz on every amber glass bowl our endorphins rose to sea level. We sifted through the tchatchkes, the thigamabobs and the doodads. If you haven’t left me yet it’s over soon enough. Trust me, oy. We bought a few things, you’ll see below. 

And then we knew we arrived –over the free, fluffy marble cake samples placed in front of us at Flakowitz. Uh, the look on my husband’s face priceless. His favorite. Does it get better? Ok, listen up. We had a Flagel and a schmear and we were off. We were on our way to play canasta with that new couple we met on line at Costco. I don’t, know, maybe, could be the early birds shadow portends to more then 6 weeks in Boca. I’ll get back to you later.

“When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what will I be?
Here’s what she said to me.
Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be.
The future’s not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
What will be will be.”

And then she let go of my hand and “what will be” became what is.

How much easier life would be if we had a crystal ball for which to see.
The future unfold before it came.
Minimize the struggles, our choice of game.
Challenges and misfortunes factored into the fold.
Gives us our backbone, our strength to behold.

With times so uncertain, a future unclear.
Our nearest and dearest become more clear.
But just for a moment with a dream in place.
Take away the name, add a new face.
If we could throw our troubles back into a pot.
Would we accept beshart?
Be grateful for what we got?
I suppose we would, but just for today.
With a dream, a prayer and fantasy intact.
We’d trade some for sure, not take ours back.
With less of that and more of this.
Our hardships, our strife wouldn’t be missed.
As fate unfurled, at our front door.
The cards were dealt, we tallied the
score.
Divine order in place, sensibility kicked in.
Focused on blessings, called it a Win.

“When I grew up and fell in love,
I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows,
Day after day.
Here’s what my sweetheart said-
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future’s not ours to see
Que sera, sera”
Make it a good Monday!

 2023 you can have this Dance!

Alright 23 show us what’s on “tap.”
Right-left-right cha cha cha.
22’s about to wrap.
Let’s do the hokey pokey.
Double down and bet the store.
We ‘ll turn on the victrola.
And dance across the floor.
A little twist and hully gully.
If that’s what it will take.
Then we’ll lindy hop and jitterbug.
No more dancing just in place.
Hit the ground and sprint ahead.
Add input to affect a change.
Come on boogie woogie bugle boy.
The top man of your craft.
“Stroll”into the New Year and bring along your draft.
Let’s “tap” into the Bossa Nova.
Rock and Roll and “all that jazz.”
Bunny hop and two step.
Swing dance with great pizzazz.
Step one, dance two.
Shouts The Chorus from the line.
Fine tune an Arabesque, stay on Pointe and redefine.
Add elbow grease to team effort.
Realign your goals in mind.
Offering a leg up, if anyone falls behind.
So as you chasse across the finish line.
Or Fred Astaire across the ceiling.
We will welcome in this brand new year.
Position one as we are kneeling.
Hit it Elton.
“So goodbye yellow brick road.
Where the dogs of society howl.
You can’t plant me in your penthouse.
I’m going back to my plough.”

We’ll take Flip It! For $1000 Please-
Hold our place in line.
Raw end of the stick or right end of reality? Go over there and put your excuses in the “Doesn’t hold water bucket.” It contains and we
quote – We couldn’t find your number, we lost our phone, we already found a 4th or 5th for the game, we thought it was Sunday and made another plan. We overbooked.
You’re not our cup of tea. You press the wrong buttons in us. The victims club has closed membership. Bastante!

“I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down and still somehow. It’s clouds illusions we recall. I really don’t know clouds at all.” Oh, Judy Collins, both sides now, indeed. Lessons come wrapped in perfectly sealed, beautifully ribboned packages, laced with hope. Sometimes.
Once burned adages streaming in double digits.
Option “Turn it off”- thank you Elder McKinley. The song from Book of Mormons. ” I got a feeling, that you could be feeling, a whole lot better than you feel today. You say you got a problem, well that’s no problem. It’s super easy not to feel that way.”

By the way next to the bucket that holds no water, there is a forgive everyone everything line.
Our world is in an inflammatory state of chaos as it streamlines havoc.

Hold on tightly, pay if forward and make someone else’s Thursday good!

Robert Redford turned 86.
And Kim Cattrall 66.
When Sex in the City-
Becomes the “Way We Were.”
We hit the ground running.
It’s become one big blur.
Get your mojo in gear.
Take a Pilates class or two.
Sprinkle turmeric and wheat germ atop, your morning brew.
So get out there each day.
Take a walk thru the park.
Staying cross-fit is not just a lark.
With knee jerks on the daily.
And a twitch in your hip.
When you know the boats sailing.
Add your name to the list.
Whether Pepcid or Tums or the little purple pill.
This aging deal, is really quite true.
Depressed? -try to flip it, it can’t be so bad.
As you’re sitting and reading on the latest iPad.
As long as we keep our eye on the prize.
Mixing wisdom and experience to all we surmise.
So just for today embrace fate as it is.
Together we’re Better without any doubt.
Let’s do it Wednesday we are down for the count.

When you get caught between the moon and New York City.

From the Madeline Murals at the Carlyle, and foie burger at Minetta Tavern, We Love New York.

Strolling through the Modern-

buying clocks with big numbers at the gift shop. Sharper Images.

We Love New York!

With euphoric recall we remember the Days of Comedy Clubs and “Arthurs“ jazz club, two drink minimums, laced with “sunshine and sodas and beer.”

Oh the crunch of multi colored leaves as we strolled across the park in Autumn to have lunch at The Boathouse. Now closed, really.

Ah, yes NYC.

From Drinks at the bar at The Four Seasons before the variegated visuals of the flowers and soufflés at Grenouille, we Miss our Golden New York. Memories of dancing at El Morocco and Le Club before backgammon in the backroom at Cavalleros, priceless. We closed the night before with an early breakfast at The open all night Brassiere.

How about the days of sitting on an auxiliary seat in the back of a smoke filled yellow cab with leg room, en route to an underground Allen Ginsburg poetry reading in a dive on Astor place near Tompkins Square Park? Run on sentence counters, I know.
“I took a deep breath and listened to the bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.” Poems by Sylvia Plath inspired us to walk down to the Hip Bagel. An iconoclastic, artistic guy named Shelly Fireman had a vision we jumped onto. We heard about him and his multifaceted interests. A perfect panoply of his Peter Max Art, knowledge of herbal cures i.e. Dr. Giller and his cocktails known as ACE (adrenal cortex extract.) Smoked fish on an everything bagel from Barney Greengrass, yes, please.

We couldn’t help but prophesize that he would find a unique recipe for success through the perfect antipasto in the most lyrical of neighborhoods. He would breathe garlic into locations housing music, art and the sounds of Placido Domingo. Good guess, indeed. Bravissimo Shelly!

Moving on now to the long ago delights of Steak Diane at Quo Vadis before it became The Post House. A little black jack and throwing dice at a private after hours gambling joint in a townhouse on 72nd and Park. Brass, red carpeting and pink walls added to the late night fantasy of downing Harveys Bristol Cream. Bromo- seltzer set up on our nightstand could have served as the back drop of an Andy Warhol painting. B. Altman’s, Rita’s Blue Tent Dress Shop on Madison Ave and accessories and Mini Dresses at Bendels was our idea of a perfect Saturday shop around before lunch at Yellowfingers or Daly’s Dandelion.

Sunday Mornings of counting Ninas on the cover of The Sunday Magazine section through the distinct brilliance of Al Hirschfeld, was the precursor to lunch at Maxwell Plum.

Oh those Eggs Benedict and mimosas under the kaleidoscopic stained-glass ceilings imagined and realized by Warner LeRoy. Pre- Tavern on the Green. What a treat before grabbing the latest Woody Allen film at The Paris Theater on 59th Street. Sunday night dinners with sauce secreto at Ginos draped with Scalamandre Zebras bouncing off the walls. Potato croquettes delight.

We miss, in the way, way back of the memory bin, the Pate at Brussels, anything at Le Bernardin- and the pasta at Joe and Rose (favorite of the Kennedys.) Everything and Anything prepared at Christ Cellas on East 44th Street- no menus and house charge ready. Table in the kitchen please.

So just for today, we will brush off our blue suede shoes, pick out a paisley blouse, grab an old hermes belt, add a touch of Shalimar and dream of the Date-nut bread sandwiches at Chock Full o’ Nuts. Make it a memorable Tuesday.

It’s a Wrap!
Just like that 2022 is coming to an end. Exhuming a memory of days gone by. -2017-

I took myself to the Lincoln Plaza Cinema to see a movie about an early period in J.D. Salingers life called “Rebel in the Rye.” On demand it if you can. I walked up to the ticket booth, money in hand and said “one senior please.” The gentleman selling tickets questioned whether or not I was 65 and could he see proof. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and pointed to my neck. He proceeded to hand me a ticket marked senior. I chuckled to myself aloud.
Shout out to Nora Ephron, at the Algonquin Table in the sky.
Her poignant book, “I Feel Bad About My Neck And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman,” is a real feel good, feel better about yourself read. Read it in one sitting, especially if you are put on hold while waiting to speak with a social security representative. My take away from the book is a permission to come aboard, take off the perennial turtleneck and don’t think twice about what to do with Lemons. Ok now to Holden Caulfield main character in Catcher in the Rye. To skip around counters, I know I’m skipping.
Holden liked the Natural History museum because, no matter what else changed in his life it always was the same. It felt like a little freeze-frame picture of his own childhood, a safe spot he could always come back to. The medicinal value of safe havens cannot be overestimated. Fast forward on the precipice of the start of a New Year.

Nowadays, more than ever, freeze-framing memories and continuing traditions helps to keep the balance. In addition to history with old friends, meeting new people where it just clicks is a cracker jack prize with flair. Shout out to our “you know who you are.”
So with Nora Ephron and Holden Caulfield in mind, we will say yes to
accepting the things we can not change, cherish time spent with friends from long ago and appreciate the luck of meeting a new friend to call our own. Just for today be a pacer, not a miler and make it a good Monday!