Put Another Dime In Your JukeBox, Baby

We recently got an Apple TV. I love it. My husband and I scurry to see who can get to it first. I'm a gracious loser, because I know he will just try and watch the first episode of the second season of the Wire and start snoring before the theme song ends. I've seen the first five minutes of that episode 15 times now. It's riveting.

Apple TV made me realize that my kids will never watch tv the same way I did. (Did you come here to discuss worldy issues? I think not). They will never know what it was like to have "The Wizard of Oz" air once a year- the day before Thanksgiving. They will not be six years old, and borrow a black and white little (like 8 inch mini cube) television from your parents, that you set up in your pink checkered bedroom to watch your first glimpse of "Gone With The Wind."

I started my affair with puffy dresses at a very early age.

In other news- I succumbed to the world of Groupon and bought a swanky haircut/highlight/deep conditioning at a swanky salon. The salon is gorgeous. My stylist appeared to be a short, intense hairdresser with freakishly strong hands. Despite my pleas of "for the love of all that is not frizzy- I have the world's most tender head" at one point, he flexed his strong knuckles and SQUEEZED my hairs so tightly I now look like I've had Botox. Win? I still can't decide.

As for the haircut- it looked great until I got home. And now I look like Joan Jett had a baby with Snookie- pouf, and shaggy layers. Crikey. Luckily, once my normal frizz sets in it will detract folks from asking me to sing a New Jersey rendition of "I love Rock n' Roll".

Grandma Magic

I read an article recently, about a General Store in Brooklyn. The writer of the article loved the "Grandma magic" the store conveyed- and that got me to thinking. I love Grandma magic. While I don't subscribe to the lace doily fan club, I do have a passion for all things vintage- and believe everyone should incorporate some "Grandma" magic into your house. It makes it cozy. It makes it warm. It makes it feel like home.

What is Grandma magic? Today I took the kids to the park, and while I watched them tunnel down the slide, I wrote a few suggestions down.

Cloth napkins
Candles in the bathroom
Sunday dinner
Clean sheets
Showtunes
Silver polish
Billie holiday
Botanical prints
Lemon furniture polish
Herbs in flower pots
Dishwasher running at bed time
Fluffy towels
Well organized tool box
The smell of perfume (Chanel no.5)
Pot roast in the oven
A well timed cocktail
A beautifully set table on a Tuesday
Fresh flowers
A pot of freshly brewed coffee
A pink box from the bakery wrapped in twine
An impromptu trip to the toystore

So that's my goal for the week- to work a little Grandma magic into my home. But if you guys see me crocheting a doily? Slap me back to my senses.

Blurgh.

After the holidays, I gave myself a virtual pat on the back. Almost mid-January, and we seemed to have escaped any bouts of sickness.

I should know better.

A quick stomach virus quickly blew in. Left trembling in its wake, my older daughter got the Fifths Virus. Then the little one got impetigo.

I haven't been alone in 168 hours. Yes, I'm counting.

The dog? He's a happy camper. The Mom? Not so much.

George

I haven't talked about this guy in awhile.

This is George.

He is adjusting to Texas. He doesn't like the heat, and is apparently allergic to everything in our backyard. He loves to watch the squirrels race by- but quickly learned that barking at them will set off our burglar alarm and cause quite a bit of hulabaloo.

Today is the kind of day that George loves. It's a sick day. My little one is home with a stomach virus, and yours truly isn't feeling that great either. We both fell asleep for a bit, and when I woke up- some kind and considerate four legged friend left a tennis ball on my stomach.

Subtlety is not one of George's strong points.

2011

Um, hi there. Is this thing on?

Happy 2011! Along with the usual "Hey, let's not be a fatty" new year's resolutions, I'm going to try something different this year. When I sit back and think about some of my favorite days- excluding the obvious ones- the wedding, the births, the day I met Jerry Seinfeld backstage at the 1992 Emmys, I realized something.

Most of my life's favorite moments are small ones. Unexpected little gifts that did not come with an anticipated check off of my calendar.

I love those small moments. And I like to think that when I'm gumming jello in the nursing home, my cup will be runneth over with millions of tiny memories that will leave me warm & fulfilled. If not, I sure hope the drugs are good.

So this year, I'm all about the small moments. The connecting with those that I love. The impromptu games of Trouble, the silly voices I give Barbie, a quick walk around the block. This year will have more Saturday morning snuggles. More doughnuts. More puzzles. More letter writing. More phone calls. More reaching out to those that I love that I've lost touch with.

I want to know the people I share my life with. I want to know them BETTER. And I want them to know they are loved.

Happy New Year, my friends!

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...

Holiday season kicked off today.

I made my annual trek to the Houston Nutcracker Market. For those not in the know, the Nutcracker Market is the annual fundraiser for the Houston Ballet. Basically, it's like a tradeshow for girls. With booze. And no kids (ahem! strollers) allowed. Picture every interesting boutique this side of the Mississippi, and they have a booth. Same goes for every kind of tasty food. Home decorating. Jewelry. Nonsensical stuff you didn't even know existed. Station after station of wine bars, wine-a-ritas, bloody marys, mimosas. Tons of Christmas decorations.

We lined up, tickets already in hand, at 10am. Today was the first day the show opened. We had to wait for more than 30 minutes to get inside the building. (It's THAT crazy!) After we got in, my girlfriends and I did a happy jig and loudly wished each other a "Merry Christmas." Then we hightailed it over to a bar and got our shop on. Kids are in school for only so many hours!

If anyone is interested in going to the Nutcracker Market with me next year- you are most welcome! Please just help me find a buyer for my house in California. This rental house is now brimming with Xmas decorations that need more room.

For The Record, We Don't Know Any Pams

My Lucy is turning five. FIVE! She cannot wait, and is eagerly counting down the days (one left-) before the clock turns and she is now one entire hand old. I am furtively trying to figure out how I can get footie pajamas in a size 6- because I cannot fathom not having any anklebiters in footies. No footies equals a freaked out mamma.

My baby grew up a lot this year. She handled the move with grace and aplomb (I love that work- it sounds like a wonky fruit). She quickly slipped back into old friendships, but has also made some new ones. She is now reading. She is now writing. She is now telling jokes and silly stories that regularly keep us all in stitches.

One day, a few months ago- we were in the car. Kids are in the backseat, radio was on low. Lucy starts calling her sister by her family pet nickname- "Anne-Anne."

"Don't call me that, Lucy." Annie says. "I hate that name, and I don't want anyone to know you guys call me that."

Lucy pauses for a moment, and then says, "Ok, Pam."

Happy Birthday, my girl. Your Mommy loves you.