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…

Speshol Day

Charming Baby used up all of my small and large envelopes and stamped my return address stamper with the fancy G until the ink ran dry.  He created enough junk mail to make Publisher’s Clearing House envious.

I was frustrated, and borderline postal, cleaning up all of his waste, noting he also used real stamps, too.  I was tossing the piles of fake mail he generated into the recycling bin when it occurred to me that maybe he used more than paper and stamps in his project.

I opened one of the fat envelopes and there was an 8 ½ by 11 piece of paper folded into a small square:

DER MOM,

I LUV YOU.  DOO YOU WANT TO HAV A SPESHOL DAY WITH ME?

{heart}

SAM

Everything’s going to the dogs.

And I don't mean my favorite shoes or all my free time.  I was with a fun new group last night (part study/part social) and we were talking about our summer travel.  One of the women commented how the stores used to be closed on Sundays in Amsterdam and how peaceful the streets were because of it.  This year, when she went back, everything was open and it felt like a mob scene.

That reminded me of when we spent a month in London as a family six years ago.  We were there for an extended business trip, so weekdays were busy.  Sundays were our favorite, my family didn’t even have the option of shopping or running errands.  We did what everyone else was doing— went to Hyde Park and had long, relaxing picnics together.

I got home late last night and Googled “Harrod’s London Store Hours.”  There it was:  Open Sunday 11:30a.m.– 6:00p.m. No!  NO!  No!  I then Googled “John Lewis.”  Maybe Harrod’s is for tourists, I’ll see what’s up where the locals shop.  Open Sunday 12:00p.m. – 6:00 p.m., 11:30a.m. to noon for browsing.  I fell asleep with my laptop next to me, the offensive news glowing at me like a goblin.

It bothered me so much that I was still mulling over it this morning as Huck dragged me around the neighborhood.   Marketers pushing consumerism as a pastime is so bad here in the states that stores are open on Thanksgiving Day.  I realized it last year when we were in NYC watching the Macy’s Day parade and I was shocked to see all the stores weren’t closed. 

I don’t know why it surprised me.  We jumped from opening up at 5:00am on the day after turkey day to shopping at midnight on holidays. 

The road to hell is paved with flashing neon signs.

42 Things to be happy about

Today is my 42nd birthday.  We are coming down from a full weeknd in NYC and it's also the first day of school for the boys.  I almost sulked around that I was not awoken with coffee and cards and kisses in bed.


"Mom!  Is the laundry finished?"..."Mom, what's for breakfast?"..."Honey, you need to go to the DMV and get a copy of your driving record..."

"Gentlemen!  I appreciate that we are full blown back-to-school and real life.  Steve, thank you for doing the legal work to fight my tickets.  You are a Godsend.  Boys, I am glad you are excited for school.  BUT HEAR THIS.  Today is my birthday.  This morning is about first grade and fifth grade and deadlines, but this afternoon we are switching gears around here.  You have until 5:30p.m. to make cards, get flowers, produce a cake and whip up some sort of dinner plan."

They melted like putty into my hands and I am sure  I'll be basking in the glow of their love tonight.  In the meantime, I have plenty to be happy about.  Here are my top 42:

1.    Fireflies
2.    Crickets
3.    Toads
4.    Hiking
5.    Hydrangeas
6.    Margaritas
7.    Boys
8.    Coonhounds
9.    Facebook
10.  Writing group
11.  Good books
12.  Sunday New York Times
13.  Coffee
14.  Half ‘n half
15.  Hot baths
16.  Understanding husband
17.  Yoga
18.  Olives
19.  New music
20.  Mad Men
21.  Cool neighbors
22.  Streams
23.  NYC
24.  Vegas
25.  Laughter
26.  Kisses
27.  Winks
28.  High fives
29.  Jeans
30.  Birkenstocks
31.  Cats
32.  Hedgehogs
33.  Clean sheets
34.  Harvest moon
35.  Picnics
36.  Snow
37.  Napping
38.  Moms
39.  Ithaca
40.  Sweet skin
41.  Breezes
42.  Birthday cake!