It Takes A Friend

I've been a little witch-y (substitute the first letter with a b) lately, and it took a dear friend to put it all in perspective. She stopped my whining, pointed out the error in my logic, and gave me a firm kick in the tush.

Hello, that's what friends are for. To love you even with your warts. To say you're okay, but you're not really okay, so chill.

Just wanted to shout out my appreciation to a dear one. Thank you. I'm lots calmer now, can focus much better, and I'm actually smiling. Like, right this second.

If you don't have at least one dear friend who will tell you off, then you are not living right. Get one. It means the difference between sanity and evil. Light and dark. Being able to function in the world around you. In fact, get two.

My Second Biggest Fear

My biggest concern when I'm riding my bike around town is getting hit by a car. In fact, I've taken to riding on the sidewalk out of fear, and most people in this town accept it, knowing there are no bike lanes.

Wouldn't you know it - today as I entered the cross walk on my bike, it happened. My second biggest fear. It was an accident, but it wasn't me who got hit. It was the sweet woman who stopped her car in accordance with the California vehicle code that requires all cars give the right of way to a pedestrian. That would be me. The pedestrian.

While I didn't get hurt, I had the trauma of seeing it all up close. I saw the car that hit hers speeding along and knew it would not stop. In fact, it didn't stop until it kissed her backside. The poor woman who got rear-ended is 72 years old, and when the nurses from the nearby convalescent home came running out to ask her if she was alright, she couldn't answer. When she told them her age, it was enough for them to call the paramedics.

So I stuck around, gave both parties my name and number, gave my information to the police, talked back to an uppity fireman, and make a quick pit stop in the bank. Then it was back to life as normal. But not really. It haunts you to see two people hurt like that. The sweet lady in the car that stopped, and the devastated woman in the car that didn't. Makes me to grateful to the One Above to be alive.

How To Waste Two Hours

Some time back a friend of ours gave us a VHS copy of "How To Marry A Millionaire." Our VHS didn't work, so we tossed the movie in a box and moved on with our lives.

Well, guess who's got a working VHS? So last night, I stumbled, literally (Pesach cleaning is gonna change that) on the movie and decided to watch it. Imagine, 52 years on planet Earth and I've never seen Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable and Lauren Bacall act so bad you could spit. Talk about frustrating.

Maybe people in the 1950s didn't care about film editing, or quality, because I found this classic to be obnoxious. Hello - what's with the 2 minute freeze frame on airplane propellers in the scene soon followed by Marilyn and Burgess Meridith on the plane? Oy vey - what a waste of celluloid.

Let me guess - William Powell was either desperate for money or blackmailed into starring in this bomb. Okay, I sound angrier than I really am. The clothes were amazing, and while the storyline was stupid, it was enjoyable to see certain actors when they were young. Frankly, Marilyn Monroe was pretty funny.

But the next time I feel like wasting my life - it won't be watching some stupid movie!

Being Aware

It just so happens that two of my sons had the day off, simultaneously, on a national holiday. Today is President's Day, an ode to both George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, and I looked forward to taking my boys to the Holocaust Museum.

A little morbid, yes, but educational all the same. And the Holocaust Museum by us is small, fettered with windows throughout and easily negotiable via an iPod you dial into to hear the narrations.

It's Black History Month and this museum has an exhibit in honor of the black soldiers who liberated the death camps. I wanted my kids and I to see that.

It turned out to be 4 panels dropped from the ceiling with quotes from black soldiers talking about how they were unprepared for what they saw. The tag line was "Liberators But Not Free", which I thought was appropriate, considering the US Military was segregated into white and black units.

I would have liked to have seen more about the black liberators. White soldiers were for sure freaked out about the death camps, but black soldiers, used to being discriminated against because of their color, saw first-hand what white people did to other white people. They had to be really freaked out.

We stayed to listen to a survivor recount his tale of horror, and then I took my boys out to lunch. Yes, I could eat after all that. So could they. Thank you G-d for the freedom to do so.

What A Surprise

My husband is a big fan of Popular Science magazine, so when someone on craigslist.org was offering his 40 year old collection of the magazines for free, guess who jumped on them? My husband.

So one day, minding my own business, I noticed the cover of the magazine from the 1970s featuring an article by Werner Van Braun and I freaked out. That was the Nazi V2 rockets guy - writing in Popular Science. Talk about gross.

Then my husband tells me that Werner VB and all his Nazi cronies made our space program happen, which, in truth, I knew. But to see his name in my own home on a magazine as American as apple pie! I get that he worked for the man, both here and there, but there, the man was a mass-murderer.

Werner Van Braun had a guest column in Popular Science. Wonder if he ever mused about all the Jews who were murdered making his rockets. I'm gonna guess he didn't. Necessity makes strange bed fellows indeed.

Thank You Boss

I just want to say one thing: who ever invented peanut butter chocolate balls should be given an extra share in Heaven, because they make me very happy.

I went to a "L'Chaim" last night, an engagement party for a happy Jewish couple. But it's more than that. It's a screaming cake, cookie, candy with a small platter of cut veggies eating fest. Man, the one place on earth I love being but really should avoid.

So I loaded up a plate with cut veggies, dip, and said peanut butter balls. Went back for a refill - didn't deviate from the menu. Drank sparking water, went back a third time.

Woke up this morning with such a stomach ache, and believe me, I earned it. But my feelings about peanut butter balls has not changed. If you invented peanut butter balls (and I'm including Reese's), may G-d bless you, and grant you and yours wonderful tidings. Because peanut butter balls make people happy. And that's a big mitzvah.

Feeling Kinda Poorly Now. . .

Lately, I've been feeling nauseous. Not pregnant nauseous, but suck down a whole can of real coke nauseous. Not sure what it means.

So when there was a big kiddish at shul yesterday, I really had to think about what to eat. And the choices were amazing.

So I limited my intake, drank a lot of water (okay, a little coke as well) and went home to wash for bread. Didn't eat my normal body weight plus then either, and last night had a simple salad.

Still felt nauseous afterwards. Whatever. It's all good.