3lastnamesblog

The Countdown to 60 March 18, 2022

Filed under: aging,family,Humor,Mothers,Mothers/daughters,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 5:12 pm
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Exactly ten years ago I wrote my very first blog “The Countdown to 50” and to celebrate the anniversary I thought I would write “The Countdown to 60.” But before I put pen to paper I re-read the first one to remind myself of what I said. (The link is below if you’re interested, if not keep scrolling to continue)

https://3lastnamesblog.com/2012/05/28/the-countdown-to-50/

So, The Countdown to 60?

DITTO!! Everything still holds true a decade later!

EXCEPT, what was I so tortured about? Looking at my 50’s from the back end now, I’d LOVE to have that body I was complaining about 10 years ago. And so what if I thought every silver car in the parking lot was mine, I still think every silver car in the parking lot is mine and I have a white car!! And to think I complained about all that tweezing! Now my morning routine is brushing my teeth and putting on my eyebrows.

And my daughters are way more than just “productive members of society”. They’re all grown up now with lives of their own. Julie is a Director at a marketing firm and married to a wonderful man. Gabby is an Art Director at an advertising firm and lives half the year with her Pro-Golfer boyfriend in Florida. ( I actually won’t mind if she settles in Florida— as a Jew I know one day I will wind up there because as Jerry Seinfeld says, “It’s the law”)

My girls know I’m ready to be a grandma. Ten years ago I would’ve cried myself to sleep if one of them got pregnant. They were too young to be mothers, but more importantly I was too young to be a grandmother! Now, I’d be happy with anything-a grand puppy even! Fortunately my sister has 3 precious granddaughters (my great nieces) and she shares them with me. Any time they visit Mimi in Massapequa they know they’re going to see Crazy Aunt Jackie. I’m pretty sure they think we live together.

Of course these beautiful children come from my nephews and their lovely wives. (We’ve been busy throwing weddings this past decade, but those are stories for another blog.) The point is our family is growing and our holidays are hectic and loud and we need to set up two long tables to make room for all of us, the high chairs, and the boosters. My sister and I wear slippers and aprons and bounce the babies on our knees so the others can eat. By the end of the night we’re in crippling back pain from all the shopping and cooking and cleaning. It’s official— we’ve turned into my mother and my Aunt Rozzy. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, I must also mention that in the last decade I’ve retired, replaced therapy with yoga, am in a solid, stable relationship, have time to travel, read books, take classes— and even though I can’t remember why I entered a room, I can still conquer the Sunday NY Times crossword puzzle.

Sure I’m older, but I’m a lot wiser too. I know not to complain about turning 60. Aging and everything that comes along with it is a blessing. So when I write The Countdown to 70, I only hope I can still say DITTO and that our family will be lucky enough to need THREE tables at the holidays!

 

 

 

 

 

So, here’s what happened this weekend… March 30, 2015

Filed under: family,love,middle age,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 10:14 pm
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Demos and I were heading upstate to spend a peaceful weekend at his beautiful house set on 25 secluded acres in the woods of Brown Mountain in the town of Gilboa. Before we left, Demos called a friend “up there” to make sure the roads were passable, after all, we were just coming out of one of the worst winters in history. As we were approaching his “gated community” (please do not envision some condo community, this is a metal fence between two trees) the roads were down to the pavement and there was little snow to be seen, just as his friend had said. However, his friend did not make the ascent to Demo’s property, which apparently is some country unto itself. As we were making our way up the long, winding path in the woods, the road was suddenly covered in a foot of snow. Before we could even process what we were driving in, the truck skidded off the road and we landed sideways in a ditch. Ok, looking at the pictures, we weren’t exactly sideways, but it sure felt that way from inside the truck! Despite Demos’ protests I immediately got out of the truck thinking, “If this truck is rolling over, I am not going to be in it!” So I jumped out into waist- deep snow, made my way to the trunk and immediately demanded my two Vera Bradley bags. If the truck was tipping over with Demos in it, then I needed my stuff! But the truck was stuck and so were we. We were at least a mile or more from the house with no cell service. We had no choice but to make the trek uphill in a foot of snow to the house with a landline telephone. We decided to take just the bare essentials. Demos took food and water; I took both my bags with my blow dryer, hair products, make-up, face creams, moisturizer, fuzzy robe, Ugg slippers and all my clothes. With bags in hand, I somehow made it up the mountain, sinking knee deep with every footstep. Thankfully, it was still daylight and really not that cold, but still, it was not a pretty scene. We made it to the house which had been completely closed down for the winter. Demos called a friend from the landline who arranged for someone with a tractor to come and pull his truck out of the ditch. I told Demos to just turn on the electricity and not to worry about the heat and water which had to be turned on from a crawl space under the house. We were running out of daylight and time was of the essence. He jumped on an ATV quad and started back down the mountain. The quad got stuck and he had to come back to get another one with bigger tires. That one got stuck too. Now it was dark. So with just a flashlight, Demos headed down the mountain on foot.

But, alas, woe is ME! I was alone in that house with no heat and running water! I noticed that the snow we tracked in was not even melting. The temperature in Gilboa had gone down to 14 below zero this winter and right now, the inside of the house was less than 32 degrees.  I had to think quickly and save myself. Aha, the electric space heater! I went in the bedroom, closed the door and plugged it in. And then, well, I read a magazine. For the first hour, it wasn’t so bad. Then my imagination started running away with me. What if Demos doesn’t come back? At what point do I call 911? Do I wait another hour? Two hours? You have no idea the stress and duress I was under!  Demos might’ve been in the cold, dark woods, but at least he knew what was going on! About a half hour later he came back to the house to find me frantic and hysterical crying. He couldn’t feel his hands and toes, but big deal! If he hadn’t come back soon I was going to have to melt snow to flush the toilet!

Gratefully, a couple of hundred dollars later all ended well. A huge tractor with a plow pulled the truck out of the ditch and then plowed a path all the way to Demos’ gate. That still meant we had to walk a bit of a distance to the truck every time we wanted to go out, but it was way better than being stranded. After Demos finally calmed me down, he still had to shovel the snow to get to the crawl space under the house, slither in and turn on the heat and water.

It was quite a night and we collapsed into a long, deep sleep. At least I did.  I noticed it got a little cold, and I heard Demos get out of bed, but I thought he was just hungry or thirsty. Actually, I heard him get out of bed THREE times, but I thought he was just REALLY hungry or thirsty. Turns out the heat stopped working and Demos had to get dressed, go outside, go under the house and push the reset button for the heat. Of course he didn’t want to fall asleep until he knew for sure the heat was fully working so he kept getting up to check the thermostat. I’m happy to say, when I woke up in the morning the house was toasty warm and I had no idea there was ever anything wrong with the heat. I got up and made my Honey a breakfast of eggs and delicious sausage we had picked up at the German deli on our way up.

After a relaxing morning, we set out to do some errands and pick up some things we needed for around the house. When we came home we headed back up the mountain. I was displaying symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but we were making it up the mountain with ease until…..

…we see the “neighbor’s” car stuck and completely blocking the road. They were a lovely young couple with two small beautiful children with a car full of groceries. But, who gave a shit about them! There was no f*ing way I was walking up that mountain again!!! To make matters worse, I had just found out that the delicious sausage I had eaten that morning was made from venison! How much could a girl take, I ask you? Thankfully, Demos was able to help them get their car unstuck. Unfortunately he had to BACK HIS TRUCK DOWN the winding, slippery mountain so they could get their car to safe ground. Then they piled in our truck with all their stuff and we drove them up the mountain to their “gate”. I have no idea how, where, when or if those people ever got out of their house again, but I’m sure they figured something out. I can’t worry about them. I have myself to worry about. The snow will probably be melted in a few weeks anyway.

So, still suffering from PTSD, I decided I did not want to go see a movie in town (45 minutes away) that night. Heaven forbid something impeded us from getting up that mountain again, I would just lose it. So I cooked a yummy dinner and fell asleep by 9:00PM. It’s exhausting watching Demos do all that work.

That night the house was filled with strange happenings (the ceiling fan turned on by itself, weird noises, loud bangs) all of which Demos had to get out of bed to investigate.  I didn’t even care if the house was haunted, as long as I didn’t have to climb that mountain again. In the morning, Demos left to try to dig out the two quads that were stuck in the snow. (No luck, by the way). I took a shower while he was gone. When I came out of the shower I found him sitting in the kitchen with his foot in a bucket of snow. He had badly twisted his ankle! OMG! Are you ok? Are you in pain? Can you drive? Does this mean I have to lug everything to the car myself???? But my handsome, gallant boyfriend told me he would do everything himself. He said he’d rather have two sprained ankles than risk me getting one. Awe!! How sweet!! But then I realized he’d rather have two sprained ankles than me having one  because that would mean  a lot less whining and complaining and no trip to the emergency room. So Demos piled up a sled with all of our things and made a few trips to the truck, hobbling in the snow, pulling the sled behind him.  Ah, chivalry is not dead!

As we headed home and reflected on our weekend, Demos said, “Ya know, as long as we are together, it’s a good weekend.”  “How true”, I said.  “As long as we’re together and I have a blow dryer with an outlet near a mirror, its good weekend!”

 

A Hunting We Will Go November 16, 2014

Filed under: family,Humor,Mothers,Mothers/daughters,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 3:26 am
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My boyfriend hunts. This is quite extraordinary considering we met in yoga and I can’t think of anything more un-yoga like than hunting. However once I got past all the Bambi parables, I was able to accept it and have even learned quite a bit about the hunting “culture”.

I used to think hunting was just grabbing your rifle and heading for the woods. No, no, no! Hunting is actually a sport with rules and regulations. Hunters first must obtain a license and will only hunt during the legal season which is just two weeks in November.  Some hunters have motion detectors on their secluded property with monitors in the house so as not to miss any potential game while they sleep. They rise in nearly the middle of the night, shower with special soap that eliminates any and all human scent. They dress in camouflage coats, orange hats and heavy boots. They set out for the woods in the dark of night, rifle in hand, climb up to a tree stand and…..WAIT.

Yes, you heard me correctly. Hunters don’t really hunt, they WAIT. They sit and hope for a deer to come to THEM. Well no wonder it’s such big deal when you finally kill one! Yes, it takes spot on reflexes, and precision aim, but still, wouldn’t it be easier and quicker to just go find the deer?

This is why women don’t hunt animals. We don’t have time to sit around and wait. However, we do hunt; it just doesn’t involve deer and woods. For instance, I just went hunting last week. Let me tell you about it.

My daughters (Julie and Gabby) and I had just finished a lovely Sunday dinner I had prepared. Julie, on her way home, dropped Gabby at the train station.  Gabby called me from the station and said that Julie can’t find her cell phone (a brand new iphone) and asked if by any chance she had left it behind. I searched and searched but found nothing. Julie then drove back to the house to search herself. Nothing. In addition, we used flashlights and emptied every item from her car. Nothing. The locator feature didn’t work because the phone was dead.  Finally it occurred to Julie that she may have driven away with the cell phone on the hood of her car, remembering that she put it there while she was making room in her backseat for Gabby’s things.  I immediately told her to go trace her path but she told me she had already done so on her way back.

Now I could tell you about the screaming and yelling on my part, but that’s not the point of the story. And in hindsight, I can’t really fault her, because that particular gene she has definitely inherited from me considering there is not a store, restaurant, or restroom in which I have not left my cell phone, pocketbook, keys, glasses, wallet, umbrella or all of the above.

So, Julie went home and I was left alone with my despair. I got into bed and tried to relax.  I watched TV for about 45 minutes but something was gnawing at my gut.  My motherly instincts were telling me to go hunt for the phone. So I rose from my bed in the dark of night, put on my robe and fuzzy slippers, and with car keys in hand headed out into the cold, windy night. Slowly and methodically I traced the route to the train station, waving on the cars behind me to go ahead. Then after about 2 miles…I FOUND THE PHONE! There in the reflection of my high beams, like a deer in the headlights, was the pink Otter Box. With my spot on reflexes and precision aim, I pulled up next to the phone, opened the car door and swooped up the phone into my hand. SCORE!!  The phone only had some minor damage which was able to be fixed! HEIGH HO THE DAIRY- O!! If I could mount that phone on a plaque and hang it in my living room I would!

So to all the women out there that have saved the day, I say this. We may not hunt with a license, special wardrobe or a weapon, but our instincts are KILLER!

 

One Year Later November 19, 2013

Filed under: Eulogy,family,middle age,Mothers,Mothers/daughters — 3lastnamesblog @ 2:41 am
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This was written for my mother’s unveiling on the first anniversary of her death. It was meant for family and close friends but it received such a  positive response that I decided to add it to my blogs…..

One Year Later

Hi Mommy. I know you watch over us and probably know everything that has happened in the past year, but the thing I miss most is talking to you. So I want to use this opportunity to update you on the family, plus you can’t answer me back….

You’d be happy to know that your beautiful home sold in one week for the asking price. Moreover, you should feel quite flattered that the couple who bought it wanted everything- the furniture, window treatments, art work and even the accessories. You should be even more flattered to know that it was a gay couple, and well, you know they have the best taste.

Since your passing Marla has spent literally every day of the past year settling your estate. For the last 12 months she has been in contact with real estate attorneys, estate lawyers, expediters and stock brokers. She has been faxing, emailing, copying, scanning and over-nighting documents. She has been the point person for the credit card companies, Medicare, the health insurance company, the hospital, the ambulance, the wheelchairs, the hospital bed, and the oxygen tanks. To put it in one word, she has been “Marla”.

I, on the other hand, have been busy fulfilling your dying wish for me. I joined AARP. I kept hearing your voice “For sixteen dollars you get so many discounts”. So I finally did it. And I have to say, I love the insulated tote bag they sent me and I never miss out on my free donut at Dunkin Donuts with every purchase of a large beverage.

Your grandchildren continue to thrive. Robby and Lindsay finally moved into their co-op. They made it into a modern, cozy nest for the two of them. I know, Ma- it’s hard to believe Robby is a married man and owns real-estate in Manhattan, until of course you see all his Legos displayed everywhere you look in the apartment. That Lindsay is something, isn’t she Ma?

Now wait till you here this one, Mommy. Remember when Sam changed his major from Architecture to Industrial Design and Marla called me at school to tell me we had a “family situation”. Well, believe it or not, Sam is now working at an architecture firm, doing architecture work! I can hear the “I told you so” from your grave. But the truth is, he’s hoping it will lead to a job in the design department, which is of course what he really wants to do. And Mommy, if you saw his new Facebook profile picture, he looks more like George Clooney than ever.

Now on to your Julie.  You’d be proud to know that Julie now has her own social media company ”Julie Katz Inc. “ She has been working very diligently establishing her company’s presence on the internet as well as keeping abreast of all the new trends in marketing. Now all she needs is a client. Kidding aside, we are all very proud of her but Julie lost her greatest advocate when she lost her Nana. I’m sure by now all of South Florida would’ve known about your granddaughter’s Fortune 500, international marketing business, because to you, that’s exactly what it would be.

I think out of all your grandchildren, Gabby felt your loss the most being that she had so many milestones this year- prom, graduation, getting accepted to FIT, her 18th birthday. Your picture is the screensaver on her phone and it was her idea to wear your “Cecile” bracelet to all her special occasions so she felt like you were there with her. As a matter of fact, she told me the only reason she was looking forward to your unveiling was so she could wear every piece of your jewelry.

Well, it’s true what they say- life goes on. But it is never the same.  As long as we have each other to lean on (and Gary to keep watching over us) we should all be fine. Just know Mommy that we all so deeply miss you and think about you with every passing day. We promise to honor your legacy by continuing to live a life of which you can be proud.