What Shall We Do For 26 Hours?

It has been many many many years, fifteen in fact, since The Husband and I have made the winter exodus down to the Southern Home the old-fashioned way-via Henry Ford's grand invention. (Or in our case, the technological advancement of some genius Japanese engineers at Lexus!) The last time we attempted the drive, Bill Clinton was still in the White House basking in the afterglow of Monica, OJ's glove didn't fit so the jury acquitted, Yitzchak Rabin was brutally murdered after a peace rally, and the first Toy Story movie had just been released. A lifetime ago! The boys were quite young and it was the only way that we were able to afford a trip south for the four of us. Flights from Toronto at Christmas were and still are, quite expensive. By throwing the kids and their paraphernalia into our very suburban mini-van, we were able to make the drive in about 26 hours of highway time and get away for a couple of weeks at minimal cost. The  results were usually lovely and uneventful, but on the return trip in January of 1996, we were waylaid by Mother Nature, Pizza Hut and the good people of Kentucky. The story is long, convoluted and ridiculously  absurd, but suffice it to say that the four of us were stranded under 5 feet of snow in the hamlet of Mt Vernon Ky for almost 6 days with nothing to sustain us but cable TV (how I learned to loathe Nickelodeon) and a Pizza Hut that adjoined our tiny motel. None of this prose is in any way, shape, or form exaggerated. Honest!! If any of you faithful readers are really interested in the whole gruesome story, post a comment and I will continue.

It was because of that incident that The Husband swore off driving to Florida in the winter. That time was the last time. The rental car costs were nothing compared to another incident on the snow-covered interstates. But this year, he seemed open to the idea of a return trip. I am spending larger chunks of the winter in the Southern Home, and the irritation of not having a car all the time was beginning to wear. The cost of renting down here during the winter months is ridiculous. I was thinking of offering the car companies the soul of my first born son, but I believe that it is already spoken for. Thus, The Husband suggested (it was HIS IDEA!!) that we drive this year and leave the car here until the middle of March. He figured that if we left early enough in December, we probably could avoid the worst of the weather and vice versa come early spring. Wishful thinking? Perhaps, but his intentions were good.

Two days before we left, Buffalo got slammed with a major winter storm that closed the NY State Thruway for 24 hours stranding tens of thousands of cars. The weather channels were calling for snow showers, snow squalls, or snow flurries (anybody know the difference?) on every route available to us. In the end we decided to go with the known quantity, the tried and true. We headed down I75 just like before. The drive is a few hours longer, but at least we knew where we were, and the hope that the further south we travelled, the less the possibility for the white stuff. We decided to get a jump on the weather by heading out on Saturday afternoon after Shabbat morning services.

We were so concerned about the weather that we forgot that we needed to occupy ourselves for many hours of drive time. I75 is one of the most boring stretches of road ever constructed. What would we do? Here are a few impressions of 26 hours alone with a husband of 25 1/2 years.

• We crossed the border around 4:30pm, just as dusk was hitting. Our border guard seemed to have a Napoleonic complex and kept asking us how much money we were bringing into the country. We said we only had a few dollars and he couldn't seem to grasp how that might work. When The Husband explained the concept of a ATM, he seem perplexed. He kept grilling us about our condo and our luggage. He didn't seem at all happy to be working on a cold Saturday night, and we were his convenient targets. God bless The Husband. His cool demeanour seemed to throw off The Emperor until there was nothing left to say. I, on the other hand, was ready to go all Waterloo on his ass. Off we went.
• We had heard tales of snow in southern Ohio that day, so The Husband desperately wanted to stay in front of what might be heading north. By the time hunger had set in, we were cooked and fairly confident that we had avoided the worst of it. We stopped for the night in Bowling Green Ohio and we couldn't figure out where all of the college-aged young people in our hotel had come from. It turns out that we were staying directly across the street from Bowling Green University and a visiting basketball team had come into town for a game. There were a line of vans in the parking lot and a bunch of kids in matching sweatsuits in the lobby. It seems as though we got our room just in time. 
• I finally got to taste Chipoltle's fine cuisine. The Husband and I have been very concerned as to what we would eat on this road trip after our nauseating experience with highway fare this past summer. The American Interstate's food system just wasn't considering vegetarians at all when it decided that Mickey D's was needed at every exit. My boys have raved about Chipoltle's for years, so when a franchise was next door to our motel, we silently cheered. Not bad for fast food. Huge veggie burrito, but very heavy on the salt. Still it beat out the alternative dinner of Doritos and Diet Coke. 
• As we passed Mt. Vernon Kentucky the next morning, The Husband perversely exclaimed that we should stop at Pizza Hut for lunch. I decided that spitting out the window as we passed by was more to my liking.
• There was more snow in Knoxville Tennessee than there was in Cincinnati. What is up with that? The temperature actually dropped from the morning in Bowling Green to midday in Knoxville. The squalls were worse the further south we travelled. Certainly not normal to our experience. By the time we stopped for the night 2 hours south of Atlanta in Perry Georgia, the thermometer read -5C. (For my American friends-that is f*&@ing cold!!!)
• I just want it on the record that my knowledge of American midwest geography is better than The Husband's. He thought that Columbus was west of Cincinnati. We fought about it until we saw the sign directing traffic east. I win! (A big apology to Younger Son's Young Lady for that gaffe!!)
• I love satellite radio. What a wonderful invention. The Husband, however is ready to murder me and any direct relative that introduced me to Broadway show tunes. Sirius/XM has a station on channel 75 strictly devoted to Broadway. After 6 hours of said music, The Husband got a wild look in his eye reminiscent of Freddy Krueger, Chucky, and Jason. I quickly switched over to the 60s channel strictly for self preservation. After hearing Marianne Faithfull sing As Tears Go By three separate times over the next 12 hours, I went back to Broadway. We are still talking, barely!!
• Florida-what is up with the anti-abortion billboards on the highways? They are ubiquitous!! Every few metres or so, these huge nasty slogans screaming pro-life talking points came at us at 70 miles/hour. I tried to get a picture, but really-what for! What was even more distasteful were the gun and ammo ads that were right behind them. It seems it isn't okay to "destroy" a human life through a pregnancy termination, but it is perfectly fine to blow them away with an AK47 legally purchased at any number of outlets advertising on the Florida Turnpike. 
• A few more random thoughts: Burger King has a veggie burger. Who knew? Not great-but edible. Perry Georgia? Not all that Jewish. The deer hunting magazines and Christmas decorations were everywhere, but nary a Channukiah. American mega churches seem to gravitate to the Interstates. What is up with that? We must have seen at least 10 with direct proximity to exit off-ramps. 

So we finally rolled in around 4:00 pm yesterday afternoon, and after an excursion more dangerous than the drive down (grocery shopping at Publix on Hallandale Beach Boulevard!) we are settling in. I love my man for doing every minute of the driving and I need to tell him publicly that he is way more than just my chauffeur. Any man who can put up with me and Broadway show tunes for 26 hours in a car with no escape hatch must be my B'sheret!! By the way, for all of my friends and family freezing and digging out, it was 0C this morning in Miami. Hope that makes you all feel a bit better.

Snuggie Hanukkah

A sign of the Apocalypse? Wait that isn't very Jewish, is it? Well neither is this. OY!!! Chag Chanukah Sameach all and here's hoping you celebrate it better than this!

Some Random American Thanksgiving Thoughts

I have always loved American Turkey Day. It is the true definition of a non-religious national family holiday, something that we Canadians can't really claim about our October observance. I have always attempted to make parade viewing appointment television on the fourth Thursday in November, and my continual cheering for a Thanksgiving Day victory from the perennial woeful Detroit Lions is part of family folklore. I have a few random thoughts about the day.

• Broadway musical presentations, always one of my favourite parts of NBC's parade coverage, (for obvious reasons) was kind of thin this year. Elf? I mean, really? While Memphis looks like a no-brainer choice for our next NYC excursion and American Idiot is intriguing, I was disappointed by the sneak peak of Million Dollar Quartet. Somehow I expected better. The recession has hit Broadway hard. Musicals are expensive to produce and fresh ideas are tough to come by. 
• I am thinking that as tough as it might be to admit, it might be time to retire the Rockettes. I know that they are an American institution, but they are hardly a great example of hipness or diversity. Their costumes were right out of a 1930s Busby Berkley musical, their choreography insipid, and I counted one woman of colour in the entire troupe. Nothing lasts forever, ladies.
• Who is Eric Hutchinson? From my brief Google search, I have discovered that he is a 20 year old American singer/songwriter who is starting to make it big. He was riding the Food Network float this morning, and Matt and Meredith made a big deal that he was debuting his brand new song 'Best Days". Dude!! The melody is a blatant copy of the Beatles "A Day in the Life". I don't know if he realized it or not, but some smart recording executive should have. 
• I realize that I am a simple and  parochial Jewish Canadian, but do you people really line up for days before in order to bargain hunt on Black Friday? The commercials advertising sales that begin at midnight or 2:00 am seem slightly insane to me. There was even a news break showing people in tents that have been in queue since Tuesday. OK! Anything for a buck?
• Arlo Guthrie singing Pop's masterpiece. Enough said!!
• How great is Marlo Thomas and her work with St. Jude Children's Hospital?
• It is rivalry weekend in American College Football and while I do not usually play favourites in these games, I have some dear friends rooting hard for the Buckeyes against Big Blue. For them and them alone, will I wear scarlet and grey on Saturday.
• The Rockettes could learn a lot from The Young Americans. Dancing penguins. Loved it!!
• How I Met Your Mother simply has the best Thanksgiving episodes on the air since the WKRP famous Turkey Drop.

Feel free to add your own random musings. Enjoy the day, America!

Sesame Street: Cookie Monster Auditions for Saturday Night Live

How much do I love Sesame Street!!!

A Red Letter Day

It has finally happened. An occasion of momentous proportions. My grandmother used to call days like these "red letter days" simply because she would circle them in red ink on her calendar so that they would always stand out amongst the ordinary. Yup. I've got one of those now to call my own, Bubby. One of my progeny has finally and quite publicly declared his respect for his parents. On Facebook, no less!! What, you may query, did I do to deserve such an overt and brazen example of PDA? Was he finally impressed by the fantastic and loving environment in which he was raised? Nahhh. Too pedantic. Has he finally learned the value of a dollar and how difficult it is to manage his financial health without constant insertions of capital from Mom and Dad? Of course not! But in his defence he is getting there. Did he finally realize how much we value a job well-done and hard, diligent effort at all one strives to achieve? Uh.....not so much. Nope. That isn't what allowed me to declare today a red letter day. Instead, my Younger Son expressed his new-found respect for his father and me as a result of what I would refer to as a really stupid life-choice.

The Husband, Older Son, Twin Son, His Better Half and Yours Truly toiled yesterday at the Gourmet Food and Wine Expo being held this weekend in downtown Toronto. This is the third or fourth year (I honestly cannot remember, because frankly every hour of every day spent working these shows is torture for me, and they all run together!) that we have offered free family labour in support of the vodka business that we hope against hope might yield some contribution to our retirement funds. It is a gruelling four day event that pushes the boys to their limits; taxes their vocal chords, causes aches and pains to legs, knees and backs, provides weird insight into the dating rituals of the under thirty set, and in reality, strains credulity as to how much vodka is actually moved. In past years Twin Son's and Better Half's children have also joined in this endeavour as has Younger Son. Given all the various work and school schedules this year, their participation was either severely limited or non-existent. No issues. Life happens, so we made do with what was available. Thus, yesterday's skeleton crew at the Still Waters booth.

There was very little time to get away from the booth. The place was jammed and the tastings one after another. Pee breaks became welcome just from the standpoint of walking to the bathroom, and dinner was a true afterthought. All that food in the Convention Centre and we accessed very little of it. The crowds were massive, the lineups ridiculous, and honestly, we were just too busy. By the time the day was over and the wall of people escorted out, it was close to 10:30 pm and we were all ravenous. Older Son bade us goodbye as he envisioned a Harvey's visit in his future. The four of us remaining middle-aged morons decided to follow what has become a really stupid and ill-conceived tradition. We made our way north to a local greasy spoon called Golden Star for a late night supper of burgers, fries and onion rings. As I contemplated a minor snack of wickedly delicious onion rings, The Husband confidently stated that I shouldn't worry-Golden Star makes a veggie burger. I know, I know. What the hell was I thinking???? By the time we arrived it was 11:15 pm but the clock didn't dissuade us. STUPID STUPID STUPID!!!! The veggie burger was to die for, the onions rings sublime and the french fries unbelievable.  We closed the joint. The old Greek guy who runs the place actually ushered us out the back door. I probably should have taken that as the first sign of my shame.

Of course I was up all night. The physical pain of a 47 year old digestive track under assault from a once a year indulgence is not to be underestimated. I have nobody to blame but myself. I know this, but as I sit here typing this post, still suffering from the post-ingestion glow (I actually think that I can SEE my heartburn!) I am not above looking for scapegoats. I decided that if I was suffering then it was only fitting that my friends should share in my discomfort. I took to Facebook to vent. I posted thusly.

In the interest of your former lives as youth group advisors I thought that I would frame this in language that you can fully understand. "Be it resolved that eating at Golden Star at 11:00 pm, even for a veggie burger, should never be allowed for us middle-aged wretches." I may never eat again!!!

And then it appeared. My red letter day-worthy comment from Younger Son.

 I have new respect for both of my parents.

So this is what it took to garner my son's respect. I needed to abuse my body with fat, cholesterol and calories in a whimsical act of stupidity for one of my children to actually think I was cool. I wondered how he might have felt had I decided to bungie-jump off the CN Tower? Admiration? No, that is way too much for my acid-reflux infested body to digest at the moment.

If Only, I Remember, I'm Amazed!

I had a very interesting experience yesterday attempting to arrange a short vacation for our family. It used to be that all I had to do was pick the dates, source the flights, pack the bags and off we went. Ok! Maybe it wasn't all that simple. In reality, there were bags and bags of clothes, toys, food, diversions, and age-appropriate paraphernalia that travelled with us. Sometimes we would spend several days in a car (before the invention of in-auto DVD players) with both boys harnessed into individual car seats that severely limited their movements. We shared cramped motel rooms and shlepped diaper bags everywhere we went, but for some reason all of that seemed simple compared to now.

Yesterday I found myself tethered to the computer with one of those travel sites on-screen, while I had both boys on separate phone lines assessing their schedules. (Neither lives at home nor do they reside together!) We also had to factor in Younger Son's Young Lady and her timetable, so that she might join us this year. She is coming from a different starting location, so I had two separate windows open on the computer with two separate flight plans. In order to facilitate all of this mayhem, Younger Son was texting her while talking to me while I was on the computer. Got all that? It was truly migraine inducing. Add to all of that mess, was The Husband's insistence (whimpering plea?) that we make one single trip to the airport to pick them all up. OY!!  Suffice it to say that it all worked out (an hour or so later!) and that I was able to procure reasonable flights at surprisingly reasonable rates for the season. It was tough, but it mattered. The fact that my children still want to spend an extended period of time with me was worth every minute spent. But, it got me to thinking about those early days. I used to say "If Only....".

• If only they could use the bathroom then I wouldn't have to carry the diapers.
• If only they would grow a bit, we could get rid of the car seats.
• If only they would be more adventurous with food we wouldn't have to stock the refrigerator with Cheez Whiz.
• If only they were a little older, they could walk themselves to school and I wouldn't have to go out on a cold January morning.
• If only they were young teens that could stay a few hours on their own, then we wouldn't have to pay for babysitters.
• If only they could drive themselves places, I could say goodbye to carpools.
• If only....

The "If Onlys...." then turned into "I Remembers...".

• I remember being amazed at my early readers.
• I remember when we turned what could have been miserable experiences into family jokes and family folklore.
• I remember the wonder at seeing and sharing new things.
• I remember enjoying sitting down to family dinners and sharing our days. (in spite of the Cheez Whiz!)
• I remember all of the parent/teacher conferences (even the tough ones!) and all of the performances, speeches, debates, and song contests. I remember sitting and weeping with pride at their confidence and accomplishments.
• I remember....

I suddenly realized yesterday that "If Onlys..." and "I Remembers..." are laments and that lamenting the past might have a place, but it doesn't serve to articulate what really matters now. That is instead reserved for the "I'm Amazed...."

• I'm amazed at the men they have become and the fact that maybe I had a little something to do with it.
• I'm amazed at the diversity they display in their interests and that musical theatre and sports can so easily coexist in their lives.
• I'm amazed at the independence in their thoughts. They listen to all sides and then make their own judgements.
• I'm amazed at how important camp was in their lives and how it instilled within them a concrete Jewish base, even while they now search for answers as to what Judaism and religion in general  means to them.
• I'm amazed that spending time together as a family still matters and will always matter to them.
• I'm amazed....

I think that I prefer the world of "I'm Amazed...". Life goes by very quickly. Spending an hour of chaos yesterday in order to facilitate more of "I'm Amazed..." was an hour well spent. I am very much looking forward to our family vacation in the southern sun.

I Hope I Pass

Why is it that whenever I schedule my annual physical, I suddenly feel as though I am cramming for a final? Tomorrow's date has been circled in red on my calendar for the past two months (is it actually possible to circle a date in red on iCal?) and I have been frantically scurrying around hoping against hope that I do all the right things leading up to the day of doom, and that I don't do anything stupid to f@#* it up! Is there enough time to get into good enough shape to run that 10K I have been promising myself for lo these many years? Is there enough time to exercise this week? Can I work out enough to drop 10 pounds before the weigh in? Maybe I should increase my regimens to twice daily. Of course that would require that I a) have a regimen and b) that I stick to it at least once a week let alone once a day. And no, sitting on the couch drinking a Diet Coke while watching The Biggest Loser is not a regimen!

Is there enough time to get my blood work in order? I promised myself after last year's examination that I would become more diligent in the taking of my daily supplements. Of course that vow lasted just about as long as the one to finally run that 10K. I can only hope that cramming One-A-Days, B12, Ds, and calcium pills down my throat for 14 straight days might just stave off my chronic anemia and Vitamin D deficiencies. But, we all know that there is a fine line between hope and delusion. 

I can't eat that popcorn tonight. The salt might cause me to retain water and push the scale up a pound or two. I haven't indulged as much as I would like in my favourite chocolate. The calories ingested would take too much effort on the treadmill to shed. I am not sleeping properly because I am too stressed, and I am too stressed because I am not sleeping properly. Exam anxiety? Just like my old school days. I really do need help.

In seriousness, I am actually quite conscientious about my yearly physicals and the adjacent tests (mammograms, blood tests etc..) that go along with it. But just like everybody else, I allow myself to fall into habits that are either easier or far more pleasurable-hence my dependence on chocolate and Diet Coke. That said, there is a great deal of significance that accompanies these annual doctor visits. As I age, I worry more that things won't always be ok. I worry that I am breaking down slowly but surely. I know that I need to work harder at maintaining my health even though it gets easier to ignore it.

Judaism has a great deal to say about what I like to call these "well baby" visits. In Deuteronomy 4:15 we read the words v'nishmartem meod l'nafshotechem. "Be extremely protective of your lives." 

Maimonides, himself a physician, declared: "Since maintaining a healthy and sound body is among the ways of God - for one cannot understand or have any knowledge of the Creator if one is ill - therefore one must avoid that which harms the body and accustom oneself to that which is helpful and helps the body become stronger." (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deot 4:1)

Finally we have the teachings of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his book Horeb: "You may not in any way weaken your health or shorten your life. Only if the body is healthy is it an efficient instrument for the spirit's activity....Therefore you should avoid everything which might possibly injure your health.... And the law asks you to be even more circumspect in avoiding danger to life and limb than in the avoidance of other transgressions." (Horeb, Chapter 62, Section 428)

We are instructed by our tradition to keep the body healthy and whole so that we may better understand God and God's world. Ok! So I don't always do it well. I should exercise more often and more strenuously. I should certainly take my vitamins on a semi-regular basis, and I should absolutely drink less Diet Coke, but I can also take comfort that I am trying. I have made a more conscious effort in my diet. My vegetarian menu has become second nature and it has had the added side benefit of making me more aware of everything that I eat. I have cut my junk food consumption dramatically (Younger Son joked the other day that there are more popcorn seasonings in the house then there is meat in the freezer for him!) and I eat mostly fresh and local products, chocolate notwithstanding. I am really trying to get a full night's sleep, but some things must be taken in baby steps. My stress levels? Give me a break! Type As don't cure themselves overnight. I realize that I can't fix an entire year of suspect health habits in a three week cram session, but I can hope that following tomorrow's examination the good doctor will proclaim me fit enough for another year of debauchery and decadence. I think that I might celebrate with Diet Coke!