The Early Baby Catches the Worm?

My sister woke up this morning in a pool of amniotic fluid. The baby was not due until June 9th, so she was worried. At the hospital, they assured her that things looked fine, but that she'd be having her son much sooner than predicted.

At 9:18 CST, Marcus arrived, healthy, and my father insists, handsome. He's 5 Lbs, 2 oz. Not sure how long he is, though. My sister was 9.5 lbs when she was born, so I think Marcus was very considerate in deciding to pop out sooner rather than later!

Husband and I are heading out on Friday. I can't wait to meet the little guy! Photos to follow!!!

The Vagina Visor: Protect Your Inner Vulva Today!

Many thanks to frogger for directing me to Va j-j Visor:
My life was seriously lacking without this valuable piece of plastic, which is designed to "protect all of those tender and sensitive parts that you don't want exposed during various methods of hair removal." Or naked tanning. Or pubic hair dying. Not only is the plastic cup stylish and eco-friendly ("your body's natural muscular tension holds it effortlessly in place.* It is also hypoallergenic, disposable and recyclable."), but it's doctor recommended! Er, sort of:

A well-respected gynecologist in Tacoma, Washington assisted us in the development of the Va j-j Visor. He answered pertinent questions, gave expert input and opinions, and found that the Va j-j Visor offered a great fit and would help in protecting the inner vulva area during its various uses.

I love when the people who help develop a product don't share their names because perhaps they might be a little less "well-respected" as a result.

Anyway, I don't know how I've managed to go on all these years without a special vagina visor, but please, do not use the Va jj Visor to try on bathing suits without underwear, as the website touts as a potential use for this versatile product. Your delicate flower and its potential seeping nectar may be covered, I still don't want your naked ass all over something that I am potentially going to purchase.

Dear fellow humans, why must you vex me so with your creativity?

*"To create a more powerful seal, spread personal lubricant around the upper inside of the Va j-j Visor. Saliva can also be used in what we like to call the 'lick it and stick it' method."

Off the Beaten (Subway) Track: The Tour

The debut walking tour for Off the Beaten (Subway) Track was a smashing success! It was organized by the New York City Transit Museum, and all 30 slots sold out. The motley crew of explorers journeyed with me to the Socrates Sculpture Park, past a dental studio that displays weird dentures in its window, into the Cathedral of St. Demetrios to see the saint's ankle bone, through the Louis Armstrong House Museum, and onto the Queens Museum of Art. In between, we stopped at the Euro Market, at a pizza place, and at the Lemon King of Corona for refreshments. (The tour was blurbed in Time Out New York, too!!!)

Husband took many photos, including this one of me proudly leading the troops across the street:


I wore a ridiculous wide brimmed hat with a big red flower on it so that people could spot my short head in a crowd:


Plus my hat kept the sun off my ghostly face during the 88 degree day. It's the same hat I wore throughout my trip to India two years ago. I bought it when I was in high school, thinking it was the height of style. Now it is my touring hat. I still believe it is the epitome of fashion.

Oh Happy Day!

As I walked across 28th Street to an event for work yesterday morning, my spirits soared. It was finally Friday, my weeks of work (both school and employment) were coming to a close so hopefully I can breathe a bit again, and 28th Street is the heart of the cut flower district. The sun shone, and the sidewalk was lined with plants and flowers, filling my journey with vibrant green, red, purple, pink, yellow, and blue. The air in Manhattan smelled fresh, for once. Even better, no bees hung around doing their work and scaring me. (Maybe the decided to sleep in?)

Nearing 6th Avenue, I noticed this:



If you look near the tops of the flowers at the center, you'll catch a glimpse of the white van that was hidden under the bushels of petals. The scene just made me smile even wider.

Meet Maurice

Advances in brain scanning photography are so sophisticated, that an image of Maurice recently became available:


Maurice is, of course, the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain. This picture of him hard at work clarified many things for me. First, I noticed that my brain hamster is incredibly furry. I assume that he sheds a lot, which may explain the fogginess that I often experience. With all that fur flying, who can think straight? The fluff is also probably why I have so many sinus problems. And forget the wood chips...

Still, I am impressed by Maurice's dedication to keeping the wheel spinning for 16 hours or more a day. He is a very hard little worker. Unfortunately, I have been rewarding him with treats rather often these days. Today we had a rocky road brownie as a bonus for making it through a torturous legislative hearing, plus a Berger's Cookie after dinner. All of this is not good for Zena, Shetland pony that turns the wheel that powers my digestive system. Oh well.

Pictures from the Beaver Cam (aka My Blackberry)

As mentioned on Friday, I attended a conference at which Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke delivered the key note address. Although I was distracting from large portions of his speech by his security guard, who stood in the corner chomping gum in a way that made his '70s-style mustache fly up and down and mesmerized me, I followed the lead of my fellow conference attendees and tried to photograph Bernanke with my Blackberry. This blurry shot of his chest is the best I got:

If you squint, you can make out the podium, behind which is Bernanke's white shirt and blue tie.) None of my photos of the security guard came out at all, making me worry that I hallucinated his great 'stache.

After the conference, I had a terrible meeting on Capitol Hill. Then I stopped into the Postal Museum, which is run by the Smithsonian. It was awesome. I love mail. My Blackberry worked very well when I wanted to take a picture of what must be the coolest mailbox ever:


At the end of the day, Maria and I went to the National Zoo to see the beaver pond. This big, bushy beaver spread itself out on a rock for all to ogle, turning my Blackberry into a beaver cam:

The zoo also has a video camera pointed inside the beaver dam for live beaver action. I could not stop cracking up.

The rest of the weekend was delightful. This week is likely to be the exact opposite, with too much going on for the third or fourth week in a row. I'll try and focus on the beaver cam to get through it.

the chairman

Fed reserve chairman Ben Bernanke's security guard's mustache is fucking awesome. It's a modified handle bar 'stache, sort of like an upside down V that ends between his nostril's. He stood to the right side of the room as Bernanke addressed us during lunch at the conference I am attending in DC, chomping gum with impressive vigor as he scanned the room of government employees, nonprofit do-gooders, and academics for potential trouble makers.

I was so distracted by the up and down motion of the mustache that I missed parts of Bernanke's remarks. I tried to take a photo (both of the mustache and Bernanke), but my camera only caught blurs. The mustache, probably because of the guy's rapid jaw motion, did not come out at all. I'll post my lame Bernanke photo when I can download it.

Now I'm off to another Hill visit (I'm hopeful it will be as good as my parking lot chat yesterday), and then a stop at the Postal Museum. Awesomeness!

On the Hill, or A Pig on a Hog on a Pork Barrel

As I trudged up the gently sloping incline with my 8 ton backpack, I remembered why the Capitol is called the Hill. It's been a long time since I did policy advocacy in DC.

Upon my arrival for a meeting with a Congressperson's staff member, I was informed that a fire drill was scheduled in a few minutes. I took out my little backpack, and left my ginormous backpack in their office so I wouldn't need to schlep it through security again. Then I evacuated with the staff, and had an amazing hour long meeting in the parking lot on C Street.

As we mobilized to re-enter the building, I shifted my bacpack. A white disc caught my eye. Shit! I violated rule #1 of advocacy with elected officials: do not wear offensive political buttons to meetings, even with friendly ones. Attached to my backpack, my button read, "Mommy says Republican is another word for motherfucker."

Ooops. Anyway, I promised Midwestern Tom that I would post pictures from any travels. While this is a quick trip for work, I did snap a shot of a buff cop sitting on his motorcycle on the steps of the Capitol (a pig on a hog on a pork barrel! Ha!):

The Rabbi and The Librarian (Not a Joke)

So many of my posts are focused on the people who disgust and disappoint me by working to reduce understanding between people and to eliminate freedom while claiming they are protecting the community. Today's post is different. Rabbi Caspers Funnye and Judith Krug are two people who work(ed) to create a better society.

During the festivities surrounding Pres. Obama's inauguration, I read a story that mentioned that his family contingent was undoubtedly the most diverse of any president's. It included Southest Asians, African-Americans, Canadians, and a rabbi. "A rabbi?" I thought. "Why hadn't I heard about this person before, especially when people were spreading all those hideous rumors that Obama was anti-Semetic?"

Well, a few weeks ago, the New York Times Magazine ran a story about the rabbi. Turns out that Rabbi Caspers Funnye is Michelle's cousin, and that he is on a mission to bridge the gulf between the black and white Jewish communities. Amazing person, although of course I am not down with the traditional gender segregation they practice in his congregation. Still, I would love to get involved in creating a more diverse understanding of Judaism, although I have no idea how to do so.

In today's Times, there's a small piece commemorating the work of Judith Krug, who passed away on Sat. Ms. Krug headed the American Library Association's Office for Intellectual Freedom, battling censorship and fear. During the Bush administration, my mother-in-law, who is a children's librarian, proudly noted that librarians were at the forefront of protecting First Amendment rights. They were supposed to report on anyone who checked out suspicious books or looked at "bad" web sites, but many librarians refused to do so. Engaging in this battle for over 40 years, Judith Krug set a great example of leadership for not only librarians, but for all of us who truly care about creating democracy.

Easter in the Embroidery Capital of the World

This afternoon, Husband and I joined some lovely friends from my writing program for Easter brunch at another friend's apartment in New Jersey. Everything was delicious, and of course, I ate too much. In particular, I loved the biscuits that one woman made.

"Hey Sara, how'd you get your biscuits to be so sweet?" I asked her, then laughed maniacally in my head because, thanks to my granny, I can't say the word biscuit with a straight face. Granny's euphemism for the vaginal area was butter biscuit. So, for example, when I was a wee lass and went to the bathroom, she'd ask me if I wiped my butter biscuit before I got off the toilet. Oy. (For the record, the brunch biscuits were made with honey butter. Mmmmm...)

We departed from the brunch festivities a bit early to go to Ikea. Our living room has been deprived of a couch since Tuesday, which is the only night residents in our building are allowed to dispose of furniture. For $150, Husband and I picked up a cute little couch that flips out into a bed for overnight guests. We had to fight the crowds of Southeast Asians, Asians, and Hasidic Jews to check out. (I swear I saw my super a few check out lanes over, but that's another story.) Now I know who shops at Ikea on Easter Sunday.

Sofa safely tucked into the hatchback of Fred the Red, our PT Cruiser, Husband and I headed back home from Jersey via the Lincoln Tunnel. As we passed under a bridge, I saw one of my favorite signs: "Welcome to North New Jersey, Embroidery Capital of the World Since 1872." Something to brag about, indeed.

Hope that everyone is having a Happy Resurrection Day!

A Cheeseball of Her Own

My plan for today was to walk the route of the tour I am giving for the NYC Transit Museum on the 26th. However, a driving cold rain put the damper on that, so to speak. Instead, I stayed home and did some work.

Husband handled laundry while I wrote a short story (assignment: a scene of seduction, which cracks me up). When I went into the bedroom to help him fold the piles of clean clothes, I noticed that he had turned on the TV. A League of Their Own filled the screen. "Oh. My. GOD! I love this movie!!!" I shouted.

Within minutes, my eyes welled with tears. (The publicity guy fought with the league owner about the future of women when the men come home from war.) Then, my throat filled with laughter. (Madonna tried to get more publicity for the league by wondering if it would help if her bosoms fell out of her uniform, and Rosie O'Donnell responded by cracking, "What? You think there's a man in this country that hasn't seen your bosoms?!?")

Ah, this movie kills me. I'll be bawling my eyeballs out by the end, when the real players join the characters at the reunion. (Or do the actress just wear aging make-up? I forget. Either way, I'll be a big cheese doodle.)

Three Cheers for Maurice

Frankly, I'm in deep shit. I think that working full-time, attending a full-time master's program in creative writing, drafting two posts a week for BlogHer, serving on the Board of a nonprofit child care center that has real estate issues, attempting healthy-ish lifestyle through exercise, and continuing to have relationships with friends and family (which I am failing at miserably in some cases) is maybe more than I can handle. For the last two weeks, I've been exhausted constantly.

It's not just me who needs a break. Maurice, the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain, is on strike. At first I was mad at his furry ass for not keeping up, thus resulting in me making big mistakes like handing in the same story twice (written in two different ways, since I didn't remember writing it in the first place) or smaller errors like when I called Oedipus Odysseus in yesterday's blog post. Now I realize that the little dude is just overworked.

Maurice and I used to take breaks to read friends' blogs or watch mindless TV. These days, I need to think for more hours, whether to learn about the nuances of Obama's foreclosure prevention plan or to answer questions about a book I read for class, and poor little Maurice runs nonstop from when I wake up until I go to sleep. That's a lot for any brain hamster, let alone a 33 year old one. So I want to thank him publicly for hanging in there. (Thanks Maurice!)

I need to take a hard look at everything that's on my plate. I know what I want to cut, but Husband is not on board with that plan. If only I could write a book and sell it for six-figures, like, say fucking Meghan McCain,* that would solve everything. Uh, right....

*Love Jossip's suggested title about Ann Coulter, as does Maurice.

Now That's Talent

As the express train raced through the subway tunnel this morning, I watched the Canal Street station pass by in a choppy blur. Then I turned my attention to my fellow commuters. A woman with dyed blond hair applied thick black lines with a sharp eyeliner pencil to her lower lid, monitoring her progress in a hand mirror. Satisfied, she capped the pencil, dropped it in her bag, and pulled out mascara. Done with that, eyebrow liner emerged.

I was impressed. I can barely apply eyeliner and mascara evenly when I standing on solid ground. If I were on a bumpy train, no doubt I'd poke my eyes out. I'd then be forced, a la Odysseus Oedipus,* to wonder the streets of Manhattan with my eyes tangled in my beard. OK, my beard is not yet that bushy, but if I don't keep up with the plucking, it could be.

Actually, that's one thing I probably am talented enough to pull off - plucking chin hairs on a subway train. Yeah, I'm bragging.

*Thanks, Rebecca. That's what I meant. Stupid Maurice (the hamster who runs on the wheel that powers my brain) let me down again!!!

Pass (It) Over

In the spirit of Passover, which begins tonight at sundown, I want to share my friend Kay's grandfather's story. Many years ago, my friend Kay's grandfather sought liberation from the winters of New Jersey. Fortunately, unlike our forefamilies in Egypt, he did not need permission of the governor of New Jersey before he could leave. This also made it easier to sell his house, as he did not need to smear lamb's blood around the door frame so that the Angel of Death would pass over.

Kay's grandparents packed up their belongings. They loaded their mule (a hired moving truck from a large national company), and headed to the Promised Land (aka Florida). In significantly less than 40 years, they settled into their new home. The mule/moving truck, however, was no where to be located.

Kay's grandpa went into the local office of the moving company. "Where's my stuff?" he asked.

"We need several thousand more dollars before we can let your stuff go," the extortionist answered.

Kay's grandpa went home. He didn't have time to ask God to unleash ten plagues upon the moving company, so he picked up his gun and returned to the office.

"I'm old and have nothing to loose," he said and pointed the weapon at the youthful Pharaoh at the desk. "If that is not the same for you, let my stuff go."

And lo, his belongings were liberated and in his home the next day.

An Unintended Consequence of Brazilian Waxing

Last week, I had dinner with a friend, who told me about a picture that he saw on Facebook.

"You are probably the only person in the world that I can mention this to," he said. "It showed a guy with his face between a naked woman's legs. Her shaved 'landing strip' was positioned on his face so that it hit under his nose, making it look like Hitler's mustache."

"Shit, that is fucked up," I replied articulately.

Later that night, he emailed me the picture. He hadn't mentioned that the guy also arranged his hair in a way that also looked like Hitler.

"That is so incredibly evil. Wow. I am both disgusted and impressed," I wrote back. "I'm impressed that someone could be that offensive."

"It is that rare combination, indeed. Can't believe no one has flagged it as offensive."

I think someone did finally mark it for banishment, as I couldn't find it on Facebook. The whole incident just added another reason for my personal dislike of Brazilian waxing. I can't imagine how distressing it would be to look down and find that my pubes made my partner look like the perpetrator of the largest genocide of the 20th century. Better to see Bluebeard or a Hasidic man.

Bubby-isms

On a crowded bus yesterday, I sat in the seat behind my mom. She repeatedly turned around to talk to me, annoying the woman sitting next to her. Once the bus emptied out a bit, we were able to get seats together.

"That woman sitting next me gave me a dirty look every time I turned to talk to you," my mom said.

"Yeah? Well, she can kiss my ass. If it was such a big deal, she could have offered to switch seats with me so we could sit together."

Mom giggled. "You know what Bubbe always says? 'You can kiss my ass on a Sunday morning.' Know what that means?"

"No, what?"

"Well, a lot of very religious Orthodox Jews don't use toilet paper on Saturdays..."

Ha ha ha ha! That Bubbe of mine! What a bad person. Although, I point out, the insult would be even more potent if it was, "Kiss my ass on Saturday at sundown," as that is when the Sabbath technically ends and people can go about their normal routines.

Either way, a few hours later, we came across this bunny cookie in the window of a bakery:

With the dab of chocolate over his mouth, he sort of looks like he took Bubbe's retort to heart.

Welcome to the Family!

Husband is back home from his business jaunt to Europe, and look what the cat dragged in:

(Also, he brought back two Mars bars, of which I already devoured one.) I am so proud of him for liberating the bear from his servitude as a hotel pimp! Theo is a little jealous, but like any older sibling, he will get used to the new addition.

Speaking of new family members, I offer a hearty mazel tov to my friends Rachel and Jenny and welcome their twins to the world! I am very excited for them.

Now I'm just waiting for my mom to arrive. Due to nasty rain, her flight was delayed by over an hour. I'm sure she'll be exhausted when she finally stumbles through my door. We'll just sleep in tomorrow morning. Hopefully, Tycho will behave his furry rabbit ass and not make a racket in his litter box so that she can sleep.