My name is Juliet B.

My name is Juliet B. and I am an addict.  

I am addicted to my phone.  Seriously.  Though I'll attempt to find some humor in it.

For those of you who know me, this may not come as a shock.  And whether you know me personally or not, you might think, "What's the big deal? Every person you see is one his or her phone all the time."  True.  But yesterday, I had a few minor epiphanies, and I thought I'd share them.  Maybe they will give you insight into your own phone use (abuse?) as well.  Or just open a window into mine.

I live in a New Jersey suburb, but I had to commute into Manhattan for a seminar downtown. I packed for a 45 minute train ride and a 10 minute subway ride, as I have many times, with my wallet, my iPad, a small note book, my new Bose headphones (not tiny earbuds any more... going for the superior sound quality and comfort), a train schedule, a water bottle, a pencil case filled with pens, pencils, & sharpies, my camera, and a few other things, including, my iPhone, SO I THOUGHT.

It's a very short drive to the train station, and when I got there, I locked the car, and bought my ticket for the train and sat down to send a few texts to my husband and son.  I left them each  $50 and wanted to make sure they knew it.  I rummaged around my fairly sizable pocketbook* for my phone and couldn't find it right away.  With the train coming in 2 minutes, I figured I'd wait until I was on the train and seated to really look for it.

Settled into my spot by the window, I began to look in earnest for my phone. It wasn't the first time this has happened.  It's a big bag. Out came the wallet, the iPad, the notebook, my new headphones, camera, reading glasses, sunglasses, water bottle... getting near the bottom now... oh, look, those ginger mints I got at Sea-Tac airport...hand cream, lip balm (a mild panic is setting in as I start sifting through the small stuff), loose change, the missing button from my suede jacket...no phone yet.  I look in the pocket compartments of the bag. Nope. I check my own pockets again. I check the outer lining of the pocketbook, as if an invisible rip could have appeared. Nothing. 

A sick feeling was rising up.

I forgot my phone. I must have left it on the dining room table.  

As I replaced the contents of my bag, I looked out the window of the train. I'm now two stops away from home. I could disembark, wait for the next train, go home, get the phone take the next train and I'd just be late for the seminar.  No, that's not right.  I could call my husband, ask him to bring the phone to the next stop on the train jump out, get the... no, I can't call him, and he's probably gone to work.  I could go home, get the phone, drive to New York, pay to park, maybe be on time, maybe hit a ton of traffic in either direction... or maybe I can go one day with no phone.

Maybe I can do this. Maybe I have to.

The first thing that happened is I started to think about all the things I could not do.  I could not do what I always do on the train, which is text people, check my email, play sudoku, scrabble, and check the return trains on the NJ Transit app.  

As I mentioned, I do have an iPad, but I have the type which requires wifi.  I am my own personal hot spot. (I know how that sounds, but I pay a little extra to AT&T and through some voodoo magic, my iPhone makes me a wifi  hotspot.)  My iPad does have a book on it, and I decided to read.  I took it out and read a few pages, and then actually took a nap on the train.  So, for those of you waiting for the silver lining in this tail of woe, that was it.  I slept on the train.  

Part of my plan was to grab breakfast in town before the seminar, so I looked for a place with free wifi (which in NY is pretty easy) and while eating my omelet I sent off messages to some of the people on my list with whom I had hoped to connect.   "No phone, talk to you later."  "In the city today with no phone, home tonight."  To my son, I typed where I was going to be all day, in case of an emergency.  (He later said he hadn't seen that email, but it gave me peace of mind at the time.)  

I pictured my iPhone on the dining room table buzzing and ringing all day.  Poor little ignored thing.  No one to Tweet with it.  No one checking Instagram regularly.  No one looking at email and Facebook.  All those missed texts.  And the calls I was missing!  I could not stop thinking about that.  

As I walked through New York to my seminar, I was not noticing the beautiful day.  I was not people-watching, or smiling at the parents with their kids, or the dog-owners with their dogs.  I wasn't even noticing fun shoes or great architecture like I usually do.  I was still thinking about my phone, and the things that I hadn't done, follow-up work calls I hadn't made, emails I hadn't sent, texts that had to wait until I got home much later. It was my parents' anniversary... should I borrow someone's phone to call them? Would I even know anyone at the seminar well enough to impose on them like that?

This was when it hit me.  I am addicted to my phone.  I don't need to be ON IT all the time, but I need it to be ON ME all the time.  Is there a 12-step program for this?

I do sometimes unplug, from my computer for sure, and from my phone... almost completely.  But even at those times, I know that my phone is nearby, and available if there is an emergency.  If I had an emergency yesterday, it would have had to be at a Starbucks, so I could use the wifi to email someone from my iPad!

At the seminar, like any good presenter, our teacher went around the group and had us introduce ourselves.  When it was my turn, I nearly said, "I'm Juliet, and I forgot my phone today."  I didn't, but I did have a hard time focusing in the beginning.  Luckily, he was a great teacher, and I dove into the day.  The building had wifi, and I checked my email during the break, and had the chance to follow up with a few of the things that were pressing.  

By the time it was time to leave, I knew I was going to be okay.  I walked back to the subway station, this time cutting through the park.  I looked around and noticed people this time.  Everyone was on their phone, iPhone, iPad, Kindle, and so on. Even a young man and woman who looked like they were having a fairly intimate moment both had their headphones on and were holding separate iPhones.  Only one 20-something guy was reading an actual book as I walked through the rows of benches.   

I got near the subway station, and dug out my ticket. Normally I would have checked the NJ transit app to see which train I could make.  Instead, I pulled out the paper train schedule when I got on the subway, and calculated my timing.  

When I got home, I remembered to hug my family and say hi to my dogs before I rushed to the phone.  And there it was. Right on the table.  Now to see how much I missed.  

No calls.

A few Facebook posts, none specifically for me.

One text.

Several emails, but nothing urgent.  Most of the people who received my earlier notes replied with "No iPhone, Juliet? Are you okay?"

Life went on without my phone.  It didn't kill me.  Did it make me stronger? I don't know about that.  It did make me a bit more self-aware.  Will it make me change my phone habits?  Maybe.  I consider myself a polite cell phone user already.  But maybe after I'm done writing this, then Tweeting it, I'll turn of the phone and go outside to my garden and leave the phone in its spot on the dining room table.  It seems that I generate a lot less work for myself that way.

Oh my apps, how I missed you!

*Fun fact:  They don't say pocketbook in the Pacific Northwest.  They say Purse or Handbag.  They looked at me like I was Ethel Mertz when I referred to my bag as a pocketbook when I was out there.

Mother's Day

I vacillate between thinking it's a Hallmark holiday, and a really special day.  In fact, just now when I went to dictionary.com to spell check vacillate, right there, in bold type, it said MOTHER = HERO.  When I clicked on the banner, it showed Rosie the Riveter, with her polka dot shmata on, sleeve rolled up, feminine fist in my face, with the words, "Mother: The Toughest Job Description."*  Think about that ... it doesn't even make that much sense... but don't mess with us anyhow, you wimps. 

Even if you aren't a mom, you have or had a mom.  Most of us can dredge up some sentimentality for our moms on this day, even if their relationships weren't the best.  I'm lucky.  I am a mother, I have known two of my great-grandmothers, both of my grandmothers, and I have a great relationship with my mom, and my mother-in-law.  Did I say I am lucky?  I am extremely blessed. 

I must say though, that the card companies really rake it in... and there were times where I spent the better part, wait, no, the worst part of an hour choosing the right card for the Grandmothers, and the mothers from each of the kids and one from my husband and me... usually with a whiny child in a stroller and another falling apart in the aisle.  A funny one.  A sentimental one.  Too mushy?  Too funny? Is this what I really want to say?  Would my husband like this? What am I thinking...he'll sign whatever I put in front of him.  I'd leave with my $79 worth of cards with pink, peach, and purple envelopes, usually to get home find that at least two didn't fit.  Then to get everyone to sign them and mail them on time.  

My Mom, at 12

Now the great-grandmothers are gone.  The kids do not live here anymore.  I've spent more time on this blog than I will in the card store. 

I'm long past the construction paper cards and the wooden-bead necklaces and paper crowns.   I hope the kids are picking out their own cards... and I just realized how much I miss that time, and my grandmothers too. They'd call the minute they got our cards, exclaiming they were even better than last year, the flowers, even more beautiful. I would gladly trade that miserable hour of standing in the Gold Crown store for a little more time with "Little Grandma" and "Gigi."  Or to hold my hand over my son's as he tried to spell his name in cursive to be fancy for his "Baya."

So aside from the fact that the card stores, the florists,  restaurants cash in on Mother's Day, what can we do to make it less commercial and more meaningful?  For one thing... those of us who live by the Judeo-Christian ethic, and there are one or two, I believe, can validate this holiday as fulfilling half the commandment of honoring your Mother and your Father.  (Obviously the second half to be fulfilled in June.)  I know I honor the memory of my grandmothers and my husband's grandmothers by maintaining the values for which they struggled.  And I think a great way I  honor my mother and my mother-in-law is in the way my husband and I raise our children.  All three show their grandmothers (and grandfathers, but again this is Mother's Day) deep respect and love.  My kids call, text, and Facebook, and yes even visit their grandparents.  Although it's true that the grandparents NEVER see the Facebook messages and probably only see about 1/3 of the texts, they get it.  In fact, its very unlikely they will see this declaration of love to them, unless I print it and bring it over for Sunday brunch.  

I love my mother.  
I love being a mother.
I love that I can see my daughter as a link in an incredibly strong chain of women... but maybe that's for another blog.

So, I'll end with this.  Maybe Mother's Day IS a fabricated scam of a holiday, designed to get you to spend money.  But I just realized that I'm okay with it.  I just realized that I wouldn't trade anything for those precious days when I took off from work to attend a Mother's Day Tea with my third grader's class!  Or when I came home from the a long day of work and there were crepe paper flowers in a hand-painted ceramic pot sitting at my place at the dinner table. 

And for you kids who may be reading this, no matter how old you are, we moms aren't joking when we say we'd rather have a home-made gift than a store-bought one!  So you don't have to buy into the whole commercial "Your Mom Needs A Diamond Bracelet or You Are Crap" business.  Cook something.  Create something.  Send her some new music.  (That might just be me.)

As for this mom?  I want nothing more than to sit a the same table with my three kids, my husband and my parents, and my brother's family, and any other family we can bring together, and have a great meal with some excellent music and a pitcher of  margaritas. Maybe outside! If you want to make me a pink-dyed macaroni necklace, I'll gladly wear that too. 

Happy Mother's Day to all.  

Okay, one more thing... We do like flowers. If you haven't ordered flowers yet, consider going with fair trade this year.  Click here for one link to Fair Trade flowers for Mother's Day.  We moms would appreciate you not exploiting other moms to get us our bouquets.

Alright, another last thing... here's a cute article from the Jewish Forward about Jewish Mothers, put on my Facebook page by my older son.  He had a few pretty funny 6-word descriptions for me... Click Here to open in a new window.

The five of us, in 2011

Me and my mom.  I'm sitting down.  Something funny is going on. 

Mother's Day, 2014... I must be growing up... I would also now welcome a meaningful donation to Mazon, Heifer International, Cancer Care or Shelter our Sisters.

*After going back to do my due diligence  this is a quote from Mary Kay Blakely.

And the Oscar Goes to...

I'm not usually big on watching the award shows.

I half-watch the Emmy awards, as there are members of my family involved in television.  I'm not sure if they want all that fame and recognition they'd immediately get by a mention in blog, but let's just say that one of them has my last name and the other has my middle name.  Nuff said.
The Golden Globes seem like a big "How do you like me now?" fest.  But if Brad Pitt or George Clooney is on, I'll do them a favor and watch. 
Forget the Tony Awards... I haven't seen a recent Broadway show since Spamalot, which was fantastic, by the way. (Actually, I am probably THE person who never saw Cats or Les Miz, which I'll get to later in this post.)
Let's not even bring up the Country Music Awards... 
But, I must say, I did enjoy the Grammy Awards a lot this year.  So I'm thinking about tuning in to the Oscars.  I saw a few movies this year and I figured, as a sometime blogger, I'd throw out my picks now, and see how close I get.

Spoiler alert.  I did actually see one of the movies nominated this year.
The rest are just the movies I WATCHED this year, on tv, on Netflix, on the plane, on my laptop or iPad. 

So here goes.  My nominations for this year's Oscars.  Or maybe we should give them another name.  I present the 2013 YAFFA awards.  (My Hebrew name, and it means nice.) No, I don't like that. Too bland.

Ladies and Gentlemen the 2012 Movie Original Moment Awards: The MOMmies

For the Category of Most Surprisingly Good Movie: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011) 
           Yes, 2011. I told you it was just the movies I saw this year, not the movies that came out in 2012. And why "surprisingly good?"  I rented it because it had a great British cast, but also because it was a cheaper rental from iTunes than most of the new releases so I could watch it on my iPad on a flight.  But it was so great and so nicely done that I rented it AGAIN when I came home from my trip so I could watch it with my husband.  There is nothing formulaic about the film and unlike with most movies, I didn't want it to end.  And now that I just looked it up to get a photo for the blog, I see that it was nominated for 2 Golden Globes, so sorry to be a tad dismissive in the first paragraph.

Runner up in the Surprisingly Good Category has to go to Pitch Perfect (2012).  
    First, please note that this is actually a movie from 2012.  Second, I took a chance on this one and it was actually GREAT.  I also watched this one on a plane, and realized I was laughing out loud.  And, no, it was not the altitude or the pre-flight Bloody Mary.  The movie is well-acted, has a plot that although is fairly predictable, works because of its excellent cast, the singing and dancing, and the fact that it doesn't seem to take itself too seriously.

And, in the category of Most Disappointing Movie: Morning Glory (2010)
      I figured with Diane Keaton and Harrison Ford, it had to be good, but I guess there was a reason why I had never heard of it, and why it went right to DVD.  It wasn't terrible, but it didn't click.  

Runner up in this category: Baby Mama (2008)
      Dang it.  I should have stayed away. I knew it.  But after reading Tina Fey's book (Bossypants) and learning about the real friendship she has with Amy Poehler, I thought I'd give it a try.  


Best Sequel with Excellent Special Effects Starring a Guy who Nearly Ruined his Life Due to an Affinity for Recreational Drugs:  Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011) 

Best Movie that Was Hilarious the First Time and Totally Not the Second Time: Dinner For Schmucks (2010)

Only Movie this Year I Could Not Finish Watching: The Gray (2011) 
  Scary and terrible.  You might like it.


Most Underrated Movie that is Always Funny: Galaxy Quest (1999)
   Not only did I watch it this year, I probably watched it twice.  

Best Documentary (okay, only documentary): Gun Fight (2011)
    In a wild coincidence, I watched this film on HBO right before the shootings in Connecticut.  I have been trying to find it again, and I'm surprised that HBO has not aired it since then. It's very compelling.

And, for best films of 2012... it's very close... since I've only seen Pitch Perfect, mentioned above, Magic Mike, and Les Miserables.  

Hands down, for the category of any remotely Pleasing Eye Candy in a Film (that I have seen)  the MOMMIE goes to Magic Mike.  If you are a straight woman or a gay man, I'd recommend this movie if you haven't seen it already.  There may have been a plot as well. 

So that leaves us with Les Miserables.  What awards can we bestow on this majestic sweeping tale of the obscure interim French Revolution that seemed to have taken place?  (Oh? It wasn't obscure?)  

Best Non-Wolverine Role for Hugh Jackman since Kate and Leopold

Most Hyped Movie to Come Along Since Titanic

More Jews Saw Les Miserables on Christmas Day than Went to Chinese Restaurants*

My goodness, what a flattering picture!

I had never seen the other movie versions of this story, nor had I ever seen a stage version of it.  I don't know how it happened that I made it this long in life, but basically my children had to explain the history of Europe to me, and some basics of the story line as well.  After gaining that understanding I found the film moving and wonderful.  I was really fine with Russell Crowe's singing, because I was actually moved by his acting. I thought Ann Hathaway was fantastic, and in case you haven't noticed, I don't usually go so far as to heap the praise like that.  I'm following Amanda Seyfried on Instagram now, so if anything big happens with her after this movie, I'll probably be the first to know. 

 And I loved Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter... they were the comic relief the movie begged for and lit up the screen.  They win the 
Most Needed, Best Harmonizing Comic Relief in Any Operatic Film Award.


So maybe I will watch the Oscars when they are on this year, after all I did see three movies which will no doubt be nominated.   I'll wait til Magic Mike wins its awards and then go to bed! 



*That last one is not an award, actually, just a little thing I noticed that night on Facebook.


This just in... here are the actual listings of the awards... hot off the interweb press: Click Here

Oy, Another Storm Already?

What if the Jewish People Named the Storms?  A short and obvious blog post on Erev Nemo.

Weather alert... such a cute icon for such dangerous conditions.
Kinda like the name Nemo.

We don't name them.  Someone else does, while we do other jobs.  But what if we did?

First of all, being a Reform Jew, I'd have male and female names together on the same list, and of course mix the classic with the modern depending on my mood.  

Here goes.

Asher
Bruriah
Cantor (no-brainer on this one)
Delilah (also good for the Deadheads)
Elijah (especially fitting if you think the end is near)
Frieda
Gad (I played Gad in the Brandeis version of Joseph*, always have a soft spot for this brother)
Hymie (too obvious?)
Izzie  
Judah
Keshet
Lior
Miriam
Natan
Oded
P'nina (Can you just hear Jim Cantore announcing that Superstorm P'nina is working it's way up the coast?)

I'm sort of stuck on Q.  I'll take any suggestions from the readers.

Raisel ... or Reuben ... can't decide.  Need another girl's name, but I love a good Reuben.
Shmendrick
Tekiyah  
Uriel
Vered
Wolfie

X ... no X names exactly, so I went and got the Jewish name dictionary.  There was Xavier, which means Savior.  So, technically we could put in Mashiach here.. but I think I'll leave X blank as well.

Yadin (could have gone with my Hebrew name, Yaffa, but that's more like a wimpy tropical storm.)
Zahara

So there you have my suggestion for Jewish storm names.  I will be happy to edit this list if you make a good case for changes.  Everyone enjoy Nemo, and Shabbat Shalom!

So, pretty much everywhere???

*Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  Google it. It's still great.

Thank you to devoted reader RMK, who suggested Qadisha for the letter Q.  Very exotic, and works well with Black History month too.

Well, it seems that my blog inspired a guest blogger, and stage and screen actor, Geoffrey Cantor, to create his own list, ostensibly to give Jewish names to the second year (5774) of storms.

A- Adonai (For who else could create such a storm)

B- Bupkus (You call this a storm?)

C- I've nothing to say

D- Daven (Bowing to the power..) David (a king of a Storm)

E- Elijah (Storms always mean SOMEthing is coming)

F- Frumah Sarah (What is this about you snowblowing your DRIVEway? Yes your                     DRIVEway!)

G- Golem (If it's a monster of a storm) or Gornisht (See Bupkus)

H- Hamen (It's bad, and you have to get so drunk that you can't tell it's a storm)

I- Isaac (Good name and the meteorologist who screwed up on Galveston)

J- Jesus (He was Jewish)

K- Kedusha (It's reverent), or if its a wet snow? Kreplach

L- Latke (It's...cute)

M- Moses, Mordecai, Maimonides

N- Nimrod

O- Oy VEY!  

P- Pinchas

Q- Quetzalcoatl (nod to my Native American brothers)

R- Rivkah, Rebecca, Rachel, Ruth, Rugelach

S- Sarah....SO NU?

T- Tevya

U- Ushpizin (That's some visitor)

V- VODKA (what Jews in Russia Drink when it snows)

W- WODKA (what Jews in Poland Drink when it snows)

X- Xander

Z- Zaftig (if it's a hefty storm), or ZION.

The author, and the guest blogger, in a moment of sibling mock strangulation and  iphone-foolery.

Happy New Year

To paraphrase the Beatles just a little, there's nothing I can say here that hasn't already been said...
First of all

Happy New Year!

Thanksgiving has come and gone.  This year, the Pilgrim-tinis were pretty much a glass of vodka with a cranberry waved over the top of it.  And yes, we all did shots right before dinner again.  Flu shots, for those of you who've been playing along at home.

We are still in the aftermath of a hurricane that knocked our legs out from under us.  When I sat down to write about it, I was not even sure what part to focus on.

The destruction in my town?  The destruction beyond belief of the Jersey shore? The recovery efforts? How we sat in the darkness and the cold and the complete absence of communication for days?  As is my way, I am quick to notice the spots of good, love, grace and joy, going on in the everyday.

The hurricane came to the NY/NJ area slowly, so we had about 2 1/2 days to prepare.  If you have read my earlier blogs Wake of the Flood, Someday ..., Sometime a Great Notion, and others, we have had our share of disasters.  We have had trees fall our our house (that's when I started writing this blog), and in our yard, and in our lake!  We got through Hurricane? Superstorm? Sandy fairly unscathed and then helped our family, our neighbors and  now will continue to help fellow New Jersey and New York residents who did not manage as well.  My first New Year's Resolution?  I won't forget about those people who lost everything in the storm.  I'll keep donating money and my time and my blog words and my voice so that they can rebuild their homes.  And while I'm at it... I'll resolve not to forget about the folks who are still shaking their fists at the sky or at God and will never name their daughters Katrina.  I saw that Holy Name Hospital, here in Bergen County, NJ, is donating money and time to Haiti, and I made a promise to myself not to forget them either... let's not let one natural disaster allow us to forget that others are still in great need from the previous hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis, and so on.  Resolution number two:  I'm not going to "give it a rest" when it comes to talking about climate change.  This has to be our number one issue...

even though...

Just a few days after the tremendous concert for hurricane relief, cleverly called 12/12/12, a young man in Connecticut raided his mother's gun cabinet and tore into an elementary school.  It was the middle of Hanukkah, and just before Christmas, and the entire nation cried for 20 children and the 6 teachers who tried to save them.  I spoke my piece (Get Rid of the Guns Now) in a quickly written blog post... but the pain still lingers, and I plan to teach my students the importance of gun control legislation when we return to our classes. (Do you readers know about the Gun Show Loophole? It's outrageous.)  My next New Year's Resolution:  Be a a more vocal advocate for gun control policies and educate our children who will become voters on these issues.

Clean slate, new calendars, fresh start.  Do we have to wait for January 1 to do something?  Of course not.  But if you need that kick in the tuchus to remind you, well, here it is.  My daughter and I were discussing how random January 1 is.  As Jews we have two New Years' and we really place more of our spiritual and emotional oomph on the one in September (or October...okay very rarely August).  But there's nothing wrong with a little secular soul searching.

Okay, I'll get off my heavy high horse for a second.
My doctor told me I had high cholesterol.
(Stay with me here.)
I was shocked.
He said I needed to go on a strong dose of Crestor... (a medication for high cholesterol) immediately.
I asked if I could please try to correct this with diet and exercise.
He said yes, absolutely, that's a must, and also start taking Crestor right away.
So, I joined a gym.
(This is not so much of a "New Year's Resolution" as a "Do-this-or-be-a-person-at-high-risk-of-having-a-heart-incident," but still, I'm pleased with the gym membership and the dedication to less red meat and more fish and olive oil.)
And my husband and I both have high cholesterol now, so it can be a couples thing. We both got the Nike Fuel Bands and have a friendly competition about how many Fuel Points we've earned in a day.  Of course sitting here writing my blog earns about ... oh, let's see, ZERO, so my writing* may go down while my cholesterol goes down as well.

We also incorporated a "No meat Tuesday" policy.  Easy, right?  My husband has a fantastic cafeteria where he works.  Made-to-order omelets, gourmet pizza, veggie wraps, what could be easier?  On Tuesdays, I work at home til about 3, and my dinner is pizza or pasta at the synagogue where I teach. Not gourmet, actually not even good, ACTUALLY does not even provide enough protein to drive home... but meat-free, yes.   On our first Tuesday, I texted him to remind him.  He texted me back to say, "Too late.  I had a pastrami sandwich for breakfast and a turkey wrap for lunch.  And for dinner we are going to a steak house for someone's birthday."   So much for meat-free Tuesdays.  Maybe his New Year's Resolution will be to try again this month.

I am feeling good about 2013.  I did not love the way 2012 ended.  On the other hand, if you think back, it wasn't all bad.   It was just this past May when President Obama did something unprecedented:  he came out as a proponent of same-sex marriage.  And in November, same-sex marriage passed in a few more states (although, Mr. Chris Christie... it was not even on the ballot in New Jersey, like you said it would be... ahem???).   Israel had a tough time as well, but it ended relatively quickly and I am thankful for that, and hopeful that it stays peaceful, even if it is a tentative peace.

So what are your New Years Resolutions?  Do you even make them?  Do you keep them?  As for me... I am going to get my work done quickly today so I can try to get to the gym... and even if I can't, I'll walk the dogs just a little bit further down my street than I normally would have. 

Here's looking a better, healthier, more caring, more inclusive 2013 for all of us!


Happy New Year!


*My writing QUANTITY, not QUALITY, I hope.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles. But mostly planes.

Not me.

In order to really grok where I am coming from, start with these two pieces of understanding.

• I am a Jewish educator.  I used to run the religious school of synagogues, and now I run programming for many synagogues' schools.  
• There is no need for regular travel for work in my business.  I live in an area where there are many synagogues, and many opportunities for work without having to travel, except for the occasional educational conference.

Me, doing what I do.

But as luck would have it, I was asked to fill in as an interim school director for one year in a state that pretty much could not be farther from my own.  Most of the time, I do the work from home, working on the computer, timing meetings with the 3-hour time difference in mind, and using Skype,  texts, and emails to keep up with the faculty and families.  Once a month, however, I fly out to Portland and drive up to Washington State to be present at this synagogue.  

No kidding, the view from my office window.  Mt. Hood.

When I am there, I love it.  The people are warm, gracious, laid back and appreciate of my hard work.  The teachers are a joy to work with and make me want to work harder to bring them to be their best.   The Rabbi is the reason I said yes in the first place. She's dedicated to the congregation and gifted with the students in a way that I have missed dearly in my new ventures in Jewish education. 

But this flying thing is another story.

When did flying start to suck so much???

I don't want to sound like Dennis Miller going off on one of his 1980's rants, but really?? When did the passenger on the plane become the bad guy?  From the minute I get near the airport, I feel like I am being punished, and vaguely guilty for a crime I'm not quite sure of, but I've committed it with a lot of other people.

Last year I had to commute in and around New York City, Westchester, and Long Island. Sitting in my car on the Long Island Expressway, not moving, listening to traffic on the 8's made me want to take that perky traffic reporter and throttle her.  On one occasion, it took me so long to get home, I had to find a place to stop to use a bathroom and to eat something.  I had been on the road for hours.  I found myself in a shopping mall on Route 4 in Paramus NJ (luckily it wasn't a Sunday, just saying...) and found sustenance. On my way out, I was accosted by kiosk workers who tried to tell me my skin was overly sensitive, my hair needed straightening and my nail beds were in bad shape.  (My NAIL BEDS?  I don't even know what they are and you can see they need fixing as I zoom past you?) 

Then there were days when my work took me into Manhattan.  Taking the train to NYC was not as bad as driving.  Until it was. Until your train just is not running that day, or your car is overcrowded, or your seatmate wants to chat, or is already chatting, loudly on her cell phone, or has fallen asleep and is drooling way too close to you, or he's wearing short shorts and his sticky sweaty legs are touching yours (the WORST).  Or you miss your express train because of traffic getting to the station and the next train stops at EVERY. SINGLE. STATION.  

"Never Again!" I vowed as I searched for a job closer to home (New Jersey).  No bridges.  No tunnels.  No train stations and bus schedules. No figuring out the subway system in New York, only to have it shut down and then figure out the bus.

So now, what have I done? I have traded all that for flying across the country.  

I guess it was my last trip when it finally all started to get to me.   

My hotel in Vancouver, Washington is a short drive from the airport, and I'm packed the night before. I'm organized and ready to go so I can get as much sleep as possible.  What can go wrong? 

After getting up at 3:30 in the morning, I returned my rental, WITHOUT filling up, because, DUH, gas stations are closed at 4:15 am.  I dragged my fairly heavy suitcase, laptop and pocketbook through the tunnels to the Portland, Oregon airport... it's a long walk, but I know it well by now... over to United Airlines.  Of course when I get there, it's  completely unclear where to go, and I chose poorly.  After being redirected up the escalator to the correct counter, I wait (of course) on a long line of people fumbling at the check-in kiosks.  

I have come to the conclusion that at any given time, the make-up of people who are flying is about half newbies and half regulars.  The regulars are really annoyed that the newbies do not know exactly what they are doing.  The newbies are completely frustrated that there is no one to help them.  The check-in would go much faster if someone would just stand there and help people who have never checked themselves in before.   Even my machine said "check in with a driver's license, passport or credit card," so I put in my driver's license.  The person next to me said, "Oh, these machines don't recognize your license, they only recognize Oregon licenses, you have to use a credit card."    AND I'M NOT A NEWBIE. Regular, smart, functioning people are now reduced to feeling like the new kid at a new school where you don't speak the language. 

I checked in, it's now about 5:00, for a 6:50 flight, and head to the security.  The line is ridiculous. The longest I've ever seen it at PDX (Portland Airport).  I eat my yogurt and banana on the line to save time. I observe about 10 mini-dramas.  I think maybe I'll tweet them, but I refrain. I try to take a photo of one guy's massive leg tattoo  (why is he wearing shorts in December?) declaring his everlasting love for Rosinda--could make a funny post on Instagram-- but again, I decide not to.  (Not because I'm afraid he'll see me and possibly hurt me, but because I can only do so much, what with holding my laptop, pocketbook, empty yogurt container, water bottle and banana peel.)

Finally, I'm near the top of the line, where they are yelling instructions.  And I realize that several people have to get out of line (newbies) because they won't get through security.  But if they had said those instructions at the beginning of the line those people might have saved about 20 minutes.  As grouchiness is starting to set in, the TSA agent looks at my passport, looks at me and says, "For real? Your hair? It's beautiful."   Ok.  Grouchiness averted.  FOR NOW.

And here we go.  Shoes off. Belt off. Laptop out. iPad out. ("Oh, Miss, you don't need to do that." "Well, I did in Newark, and it's out, so there you go.") Hand cream, contact solution, chapstick, in a ziploc out.  Watch off, pockets empty, coat off.  

Have I just been arrested? I'm going through the motions and I see that people in wheelchairs get to go right through.  I wonder how I feel about this.  My mind wanders. No terrorist has ever been physically challenged?  Or pretended to be--

"Miss, this is over regulation."

WHAT?

NOOOO.  My Ahava hand cream is over the size limit by one ounce.  Newark let it go.  Portland is gonna be a stickler.  

"Oh, please?  It's the best cream.  It's very expensive and it's so great for the ..."

"Do you want to squeeze it into smaller containers or give it to a companion at the gate?"

"no" I say in a small voice, of someone who has been caught doing something horrible. "I don't have a companion over there, and I have no empty containers."

That was the last I saw of my fantastic, skin-saving Ahava Dermud  cream. She let me take one last squeeze. I feel anger and grouchiness returning.

Good-bye my precious.

I re-dress myself and amble to the gate.  

I'm there early enough. I buy my $5.00 water for the plane, peruse the magazines and settle into a seat.  I check my email, 15 minutes until we board.  

I call my husband (it's three hours later) as they announce first class, and people in the military.  Zone 1. (I check my ticket, and I am zone 7. ) Zone 2. Zone 3. People with babies.  And then there's some whispering and a lot of buzz going on at that desk.  I'm watching them with great interest.

"Yes, um, there's going to be a slight delay with our boarding. Please take a seat."  

No problem, as I hadn't gotten up.  

It turns out that something had broken on the plane overnight.  Oops. 

When the captain was doing his safety check, he found it, which I must say I appreciate.

I don't appreciate a lot of what happened but I do appreciate not flying on a broken plane.

They announced that we should make alternate plans.  They offer to help people re-book their flights, and most of the people quietly line up at the three computers and patiently wait their turns as they are shuffled around and put on new flights.  (I mentioned that this is Portland, not Newark, right?) No one cursed. No one yelled, except those, like me, who chose to call United Airlines directly and were heard yelling into their phones this phrase:

"SPEAK TO AN AGENT."

When the automated system did let me speak to an agent, I finally got myself on to US Air, getting two flights to Newark, which would have me landing at about 7:30 pm, after changing planes in Phoenix.  As the agent on the phone was giving me a confirmation number, the ground crew at United announced that the broken part was fixable, the new part was being flown up from San Francisco.  This plan should be good to go at about 11:00, getting us to Newark by about 7:00 pm.

Hmmm.  Stay on the broken plane, spend 3 more hours at the airport, but then have a non-stop flight home which is BOUND to be less crowded?

or

Accept the new flights, risk losing my luggage, run over to US Air, fret about the change in Phoenix, and get home at the same time.

I told the agent on the phone to put me back on the United flight.  She said she couldn't .

I said she could.

She said she needed a manager.

I told her to hurry up and get one.

She felt inconvenienced.

I felt my New Jersey coming on.

Eventually I was back on my flight.
After the line went down, I confirmed with guys at the desk at the  United counter that I was indeed on the flight and that my luggage was staying on it too.  They gave me a $10 voucher to buy breakfast.

Hah.  Even in Portland $10 does not buy breakfast at the airport.  But it did buy a humongous Bloody Mary, which helped reduce my stress level by about 30%.

I walked the entire length of the airport a few times so I wouldn't fall asleep before my flight... (It almost worked.) I tipped the guy playing Christmas carols on the xylophone, and the guy playing Bach on the mini-cello.  (That's probably not what it's really called.)  Back at the gate I went onto United.com and changed my seat on the flight so I could have three seats all to myself.  I was fairly smug about that clever move.  I then got a new boarding pass, and asked the attendant to try to keep row 31 clear for me. Wink Wink.

Eventually the flight took off.  They did not give us free food, but it seemed that people who ordered beer or wine were not being asked for their credit cards.  After that I conked out for 2 1/2  hours, stretched out like 9 year old, using my laptop case as a pillow.  It was the first time I had been on a flight that wasn't packed.

For our trouble, United gave us a token of appreciation, $75 off any flight, good for a year.  I was hoping for a bit more...(First class forever?  Free drinks forever? Free companion flights forever? )

But I made it home safe and sound... and I was greeted by two bounding dogs and a happy husband who had dinner ready and a cocktails on the counter for the weary traveler.

Flying used to be special, and customer oriented.  Now it's something to get through.  Sitting on a cramped "air-bus" on a seat that reclines about an inch if you're lucky, next to someone who is sloppily eating a smelly Subway sub or buffalo chicken wrap because the planes are so stingy about their food.

But  still.  Every trip is a mini adventure.  It's exhausting, sometimes exhilarating.  The photos I took of Mt. Saint Helens and Mount Hood were amazing. The time I am in the sky is my only time "offline," except for Shabbat.   I've also gotten better at falling asleep sitting up straight.  And you'd be amazed at the great finds available in the sky mall catalog!  Dog crates that look like coffee tables!  A Snuggie that has your favorite football team printed on it that plugs into the car lighter!

Anyway, time to end this somewhat lengthy post and go book my next trip.  I'm sure it'll be uneventful. (Please read that with lots of Jersey sarcasm.)

Happy New Year.  Hope you don't have to travel to be with the ones you love.

Mt. St. Helens covered with snow, from my airplane window. Cool, right?

Air Alaska gives you a free beer on the puddle jumper from Portland to Seattle.
But you have to drink it really  fast. One flight attendant actually said, "Come on, down it like you're still in college!"

For the record, my miserable experience was with United Airlines... the photos are from Air Alaska.  Why not promote the Airline with whom I have had nothing but positive experiences and free beer?  :-)

Get Rid of the Guns NOW

There are no words, or let's just say, no adequate words, to describe the feeling that our entire country has right now as we sit, glued to TV,  Internet and radio.  Heartsick? Bereft? Miserable? Furious?  Helpless...

My children are 18, 22 and 25 yet I rushed to hear their voices on my cell phone and cried again knowing that mothers in Newtown, Connecticut would never see  a simple milestone like a seventh birthday.

It became unbearable when television news finally put faces to the families and names to the deceased.  Those innocent children. The teachers and principals who were immediate heroes. 

And then. I was hearing them talk about school safety... metal detectors at the doors, locks on the windows, safe rooms in each wing... Making schools like mini-prisons?

I wanted to scream and say:  GET RID OF THE GUNS NOW.

How many more?

And yes, the appropriate discussions about helping those with mental illnesses.  Of course.  And still whether you are getting everyone the help they need or not... GET RID OF THE GUNS NOW.  

Yes.  Get them out of the house.  Isn't it obvious?

What will those Newtown and Sandy Hook families do with the unopened Christmas and Hanukkah presents?

How will they feel when they do the laundry of children who will never wear their clothing again.  Will they ever EVER be able to look at their children's  favorite cereal, hear their favorite songs, walk past that playground without crying.

Will the kids who survived become broken?

What good are our prayers and broken hearts and Facebook messages of concern right now?  Maybe they help us get through this a little bit more easily.  But they don't help those families and they don't stop the next guy.

GET RID OF THE GUNS NOW.

I feel like I can't move, I feel like I can't breathe.  I hope that the rest of the country feels the same way.  Will this FINALLY be our nation's wake-up call?

GET RID OF THE GUNS NOW. 

December 22  Additional Note: It's been one week since I wrote this, and it's still getting readers.  Good.  I don't feel much better since posting this, and I hope you don't either. The NRA has spoken up now, after a few polite days of silence, and said, basically, let's arm the good guys to combat the bad guys.  More guns are NOT the answer.  If you agree, please let your elected politicians know how you feel and don't let this go.  Don't let those children and teachers have lost their lives without us making a change to honor their memories.
jb