Signs of Life

When I was little, I loved going downstairs the day after my parents entertained.  There were signs of life everywhere.  In our normally pristine living room that no one was allowed to mess up, my brother and I would find half empty dishes of nuts, cocktail glasses with squeezed-out limes floating in clear liquid pools, baskets of stale potato chips, and crumpled napkins with lipstick smudges on them.  I could still hear the adults laughing and talking as I wandered around, sampling the leftovers and taking notes on what was popular (olives and onion dip) or not (carrot sticks and mystery cheese).

I am Type A, just like my mother, and usually cannot rest until the kitchen is cleaned up, the rooms are tidied and everything is in order for the next day.  But sometimes something festive and magical occurs, if you let it, when you have friends and family over, filling your house up with attention and energy.  I like to get caught up in the moment and consider myself on top of my game if I remember to blow out the candles before hitting the hay.

It’s the only time I can stomach coats left thrown over the backs of chairs, dirty dishes in the sink or crumbs on the floor.  The more wine glasses to wash, the better.  The mood is especially maudlin when I can still smell the aroma of whatever we cooked and served for dinner the night before.

I am trying to take this feeling and spread it out over the rest of my mornings with the boys in the house.  When I injure my foot on a Lego piece on my way to make coffee, or see backpacks and lacrosse sticks cluttering the hallways, rather than letting fumes of frustration that I am raising lazy slobs creep up, I smile and think about how truly fortunate I am to be living with them.

Lost and Found

 

I bought an old desk at a thrift store for First Born Prince last spring, dragged it home and couldn't wait to show him what I found.  I had visions of us laughing and flicking paint at each other, bonding, learning lessons about recycling and restoration.  He took one look at it and told me he didn’t like it.  He is turning out to be just like his father who once asked me after I spent an entire summer shopping at flea markets, decorating our first apartment, “What’s the difference between shabby chic and just plain shabby?”

“I’ll take it!”  Charming Baby was very excited by the idea.  He never passes up a discarded treasure or a project.  He is turning out to be just like me.

Months passed and Charming Baby kept asking me when he could have his desk.  We bought the paint, new hardware and fresh sandpaper.  Summer ended, school started and we got back into sports and music lessons and all sorts of weekend commitments and eventually he grew tired of waiting for me.

A few weeks ago I found him in the garage, sitting at his desk, using an upside down recycling bin as his chair, working furiously on a book he was making.  It was a rainy night, getting late, and he was out there humming to himself.  He had set up an entire workspace, complete with paper, stapler, markers and colored pencils.

“Sam, why don’t you come in and work at the kitchen table where it’s warm and there is better light?”

“Mom, I love my desk!  I don’t care if I have to sit out here to use it.  Please let me stay.”

The very next sunny day we had, I whipped up an early dinner, poured a hefty glass of wine and we spent the entire afternoon and evening in the garage.

I knew Charming Baby was patient and sweet and good with a paint brush, but this time around I found out he is also great with a screwdriver and is clearly capable of taking initiative when his boss is lagging.

Healthy Food for All

 

The farmers around here supply not only markets, restaurants and customers like me who buy into their farm-shares (called CSA--Community Supported Agriculture), but they support a "Healthy Food for All" program that makes the fresh, local produce available to limited-income families.  We went to one of their fundraisers, called "Harvest Dinners on the Farm."

There is a whole series of events, each hosted on a different farm by volunteers, including local chefs and winemakers from the top restaurants and wineries in the area. You can purchase tickets to one, or all of the dinners.  We started with an evening at Stick and Stone Farm.

We were greeted by the winemaker from Hosmer Winery.  First course was bubbly!

Next was a tour, where I learned a few things, like chickens are used to fertilize the fields.  They also eat the bugs and the farmer gets to eat the eggs!

There were 80 guests attending the evening we went.  I loved how the men wore collared shirts and the ladies were in skirts and boots.

The Professor isn't into small talk and is not the type to hand out business cards.  Most of his mingling is with me.

But sometimes he makes a new friend.

We enjoyed an amazing four-course meal created by the Simply Red Bistro chef.  Most of the produce came from the farm with some fruit, meat, cheeses and breads coming from other nearby Finger Lakes growers and purveyors.  It was magical how they transformed the barn into a dinner party with little white lights strung up all around.

The best part was that after all that delicious food and wine, we went home knowing our small contribution helped over 15 families eat fresh, locally grown produce for a year.

Under Electric Candlelight

I met a graduate student in my book club—she’s engaged to a post-doc here.  They are planning a small wedding.  She told me she wasn’t wearing a ring because she’d rather use the money to go to Alaska.  Oh, how I love a sensible woman.

Except when I was 27 I wasn’t so sensible. I ignored my mother’s advice when I was planning my big, fun Jewish wedding.  She told me that if she were me, she would use the money for a time-share in Hawaii.  Funny, when I look at my wedding photos, my mother is laughing and dancing the most of anyone.  Maybe she was relieved she was able to marry off such a big-mouthed daughter.

I think we would have had a different type of engagement and wedding if we had waited, but we were young and romantic.  He got down on his knee to propose to me in a park in London.  I remember he was crying and I was afraid he was going to tell me he had a terminal disease.  Later, I tried to talk him into getting married in Mexico, me in a white sundress and he in a pair of shorts, barefoot on the beach.  The Professor was horrified, afraid of the drinking water and inability to confirm travel plans through American Express.  Plus, he had always envisioned a formal wedding, complete with tuxedo and gown.  He probably played house as a child, too. 

I am glad we went for it, though.  We both loved our wedding day.  It was beautiful and it’s tough to beat celebrating with family and best friends and a few tables full of people we can’t identify now.  We drank champagne and danced all night.  And I’ve got the album to prove it.

He's Just a Boy

First Born Prince turned 11 last week.  He wanted a PSP (Playstation Portable) but was concerned I wouldn’t let him have the games he wanted to play on it since most of them are rated Teen or Mature. 

He gave me a list of the titles, all combat and war, for me to check out.   I went online where they had previews I could watch.  The little army dudes were sort of cute and weren’t smoking and cursing and stabbing each other with bayonets like in the war movies I was exposed to as a child. 

“Okay, you can get the PSP and a few of the games with your birthday money.  Not the Mature rated one, but the other two Teen ones seem harmless.

He almost fell over.  I think it made him nervous that I gave in so easily.  He probably had more negotiating points ready, like a signed affidavit from our Rabbi saying war games teach you valuable lessons. 

“Are you sure, Mom?”

“Yeah.  You know your obsession with guns stresses me out, but hey, you’re a nice kid and I trust you.”

We went to the Game Stop and he got very quiet looking at all the paraphernalia.

“I’m not sure I want to spend my money on this.”

I did a little jig right there in the Ithaca mall.

Later that day I treated him to a milkshake at Burger King while his brother was next door at gymnastics.  I was taking lots of pictures of him and he was in an especially good mood.  High fructose corn syrup and artificial vanilla flavor does that to you.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Well.  I realized I like actually fighting with Nerf guns with my friends, not doing something on a screen.  I would rather have friends over and stage a real battle.  It’s more fun.”

I almost slid out of the booth.

Facebook Me

The Social Network is excellent.  It was produced and directed by the best, so not a huge surprise there.  Talk on Facebook clued me into some fun trivia—like the Winklevoss twins were played by one guy.  They CGI-ed his face onto another 6'5" actor.  I was wondering where the tall twin treats had been hiding.  There is also some debate on how accurate the story is and a few have complained it doesn’t showcase how Facebook changed our world.

I liked seeing the art of the deal.  Being the daughter and wife of, and working my entire career for, entrepreneurs, I have watched the whole game very closely.  The part of the story that speaks to me is about perspiration vs. inspiration.  If there is one message to garner, it is that much of life is about execution and timing.  You have to actually get off your ass and do something, now. 

Also, a tip:  READ and UNDERSTAND legal paperwork before signing anything.  If you don’t understand it, spend a few bucks and hire a lawyer who can explain it to you in simple English.  The only time an entrepreneur has any power is before the investors come in.  As shown to us in the movie, one of the founders started out with 30% interest in Facebook for his $1,000 seed money.  He could have parlayed that into 7.5 Billion if he didn't allow himself to be diluted out. 

Some people think Zuckerberg was back-stabbing and arrogant.  I disagree.  I think he is brilliant and operated with integrity.  The people who were “wronged” in the movie were presumptuous.  And total sellouts.  The kid started Facemash on his own before any of the other parties got involved with their ideas or investments.  Oh, and he made them Billionaires, by the way.  As a bonus, Eisenberg, the actor who portrays Mark in the movie, is totally adorable.  We all know I’m a sucker for smart, cute Jewish boys.

In the end, the person with the most chips is the one who gets busy and understands terms and conditions.  Having a good idea but not jumping on it or skipping your homework costs you, about 24 Billion for the twins and 7 Billion for Eduardo, if my math is correct.

If you want to see gorgeous Harvard, watch some creative dialogue and catch a glimpse of how tech entrepreneurs do it, this movie is for you. 

Call of the Wild

Not sure if it is the onset of Fall or all of the college radio I’ve been listening to, but lately, I want to break free.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the invisible chains that bind us.  I could kick myself for the eight years I spent a few blocks from the beach, strapping my babies into high chairs and feeding them cooped up in my kitchen at dinnertime.  We had the most gorgeous sunsets.  Why didn’t I toss our meal into a bag and walk down to the sand?

Some commitments are like locust and consume our most precious commodity.  Others are privileges but don’t always feel that way.  After taking our sabbatical year, we have now re-engaged with routine--music lessons, organized sports, and religious school.  Some afternoons when the breeze is blowing warm and orange, red and yellow leaves are rustling underfoot, I want to scoop up my boys and go for long walks, toad hunts and picnics in the woods, but I won’t cancel the tutor or flake on a team…so we keep to our schedule and show up at the organized activities.

I am in the business of raising reliable, honorable men, not breeding Grizzly Adams types, so I will continue to march them home after school and into gymnasiums at the set times.  But when the sky is clear and the harvest moon is full, you just may not find us where we are supposed to be…