Sunday, I took my youngest daughter for a manicure at a nail salon not far from our house in Studio City. While I was still in the chair, a woman who was somewhere around 40 years old came in. She was tall, slender, big breasts. Her nose job was obvious. She had high, apple cheeks, long dark hair. She was very talkative.
She sauntered in and admired the sandals worn by another customer. "I love your shoes," she said. "They look so comfortable. I could see myself wearing them. I am very particular about my shoes, being a dancer, and all." At that point, she stood on her toes, her exposed calves firmly flexing as she reached up.
She sat in the chair next to mine. She brought three fashion magazines with her. "I certainly hope I do not end up like her," she said pointing to a picture of Paris Hilton. "Can you believe it. You would think she would know better. . ." She starting going on about Paris Hilton, Paris Hilton's legal problems, and Paris Hilton + Nicole Richie but I had a difficult time following her. "I don't really know much about the details of what happened," I admitted.
After a few moments, I received a call from G. When I hung up the phone the lady next who clearly was eavesdropping on my conversation, asked, "Who is G.?" I explained to her that G. is the lady taking care of my father-in-law while the rest of the family is back east for my neices graduation from college.
"It's nice to have family," she said. She continued to chat at me. I learned that she is a single mother. Her husband is an actor who has remarried and started another family, much to the dismay of her sons, ages 13 and 17. The 13 year old is going to a home school at a neighbor's house which is working out for him because he was not functioning well in a regular class room setting. Her older son goes to a school in West LA because he has problems with audio-visual processing, but who knows what will happen when he is 18. She is an actress who just did two small films -- not SAG. She had to do her own makeup for one of them, but that is not such a bad thing. That evening she had a dinner meeting. Who sets a dinner meeting for Sunday night? She did not now know, but it was her obligation to go. Leafing through the fashion magazine, she could not believe that someone would pay $6,000 for a dress, but she believed if she could, she might. Her sons love each other a lot and she does the best she can as a single mom, although she may have to go back to al-anon.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
The Bar Mitzvah
Last Saturday my dear friend K. went to a bar mitzvah. The bar mitzvah service was held in a small, orthodox synagogue. Most of the congregants are old Ashkenazy men from Eastern Europe who survived the Holocaust. They are generally a somber lot who take the business of prayer quite seriously. The synagogue has a reputation for being particularly traditional and humorless.
The shul was fairly crowded. There were the regulars who prayed at the synagogue on a daily basis. There was the Shabbat crowd that showed up every week for Saturday services. The bar mitzvah boy’s family was there. All of the bar mitvah boy’s school friends were there. There were even parents of friends of the bar mitzvah boy there. (That was how K. was in attendance being the mother of one of the bar mitzvah boy’s close friends.) The synagogue was full of the devout and full of well wishes for the bar mitzvah.
After the bar mitzvah boy read his torah portion and the rabbi completed the service, the mother of the bar mitzvah boy, in an uncomfortably progressive move, went to the front of the shul to make a speech. She directed her words to her son.
"If you are going to smoke marijuana, I want you to make sure you smoke only the good stuff. Make sure you know who you get it from. And make sure that you are in a safe place when you do so. . ."
The shul was fairly crowded. There were the regulars who prayed at the synagogue on a daily basis. There was the Shabbat crowd that showed up every week for Saturday services. The bar mitzvah boy’s family was there. All of the bar mitvah boy’s school friends were there. There were even parents of friends of the bar mitzvah boy there. (That was how K. was in attendance being the mother of one of the bar mitzvah boy’s close friends.) The synagogue was full of the devout and full of well wishes for the bar mitzvah.
After the bar mitzvah boy read his torah portion and the rabbi completed the service, the mother of the bar mitzvah boy, in an uncomfortably progressive move, went to the front of the shul to make a speech. She directed her words to her son.
"If you are going to smoke marijuana, I want you to make sure you smoke only the good stuff. Make sure you know who you get it from. And make sure that you are in a safe place when you do so. . ."
Monday, January 01, 2007
The Divorce
My friend's brother-in-law suddenly left his wife and five children. The children range in age from 19 years old to 10 years old. They are an orthodox Jewish family who are very religious. Both the wife and the husband cover their heads (she with a hat or wig, he with a yarmulke). They observe the strictest laws of Judaism. Their life together had always been centered around religion. Major decisions were informed by their religious beliefs including where to live and how to educate their children. They regularly attend synagogue. They are fully ensconced in their religious community.
The wife works as a public school administrator, having been in education for years. He works for an organization that provides support services to victims of torture.
The couple seem to live their lives in accordance with shared values. Their children are lovely. They are both involved in careers that focused on helping others. They never appear to fight or bicker or even to disagree with each other in any meaningful way.
They are also a very attractive couple. She has fine bone structure, soft brown eyes, straight teeth. He is handsome. They are both intelligent, engaging. While we did not seem them often, it was always a pleasure to see them socially. He was a particularly interesting conversationalist who spoke with wit, charm and knoweldge.
After more than 20 years of marriage, the husband suddenly left his wife. He announced to his wife that he did not love her. He said he never wanted to have five children. He said that he hated Judaism.
The husband's complete rejection of his family and lifestyle was shocking to everyone. The wife was in disbelief as he explained to her his lack of feeling for her and the children. People in the community tried unsuccessfully to analyze what could possibly make him act this way? Was he ill? Did he have a brain tumor? Was he traumatized from a recent visit to European sites of concentration camps and other places of torture as part of a work trip? Was there another woman? Was there another man?
It turns out he had lived a lie for over 20 years and simply does not believe in God.
The wife works as a public school administrator, having been in education for years. He works for an organization that provides support services to victims of torture.
The couple seem to live their lives in accordance with shared values. Their children are lovely. They are both involved in careers that focused on helping others. They never appear to fight or bicker or even to disagree with each other in any meaningful way.
They are also a very attractive couple. She has fine bone structure, soft brown eyes, straight teeth. He is handsome. They are both intelligent, engaging. While we did not seem them often, it was always a pleasure to see them socially. He was a particularly interesting conversationalist who spoke with wit, charm and knoweldge.
After more than 20 years of marriage, the husband suddenly left his wife. He announced to his wife that he did not love her. He said he never wanted to have five children. He said that he hated Judaism.
The husband's complete rejection of his family and lifestyle was shocking to everyone. The wife was in disbelief as he explained to her his lack of feeling for her and the children. People in the community tried unsuccessfully to analyze what could possibly make him act this way? Was he ill? Did he have a brain tumor? Was he traumatized from a recent visit to European sites of concentration camps and other places of torture as part of a work trip? Was there another woman? Was there another man?
It turns out he had lived a lie for over 20 years and simply does not believe in God.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
The Survivalist
My boss is a wealthy attorney who lives in an affluent suburb of Los Angeles. He appreciates luxury. In addition to his 9,000 square foot home, he has a 4,000 square foot beach house. He drives a luxury car. He wears a luxury watch. He collects and uses luxury pens.
One evening, he and his wife were going out to dinner with their friend B. and B.'s wife. B. was the IT manager for a big-five accounting firm. He was successful, intellectual and apparently quite urban working downtown in a large high rise building managing the computer systems and IT personnel.
The couples were going to a luxury restaurant, and even though it was not located far from their homes, they hired a limousine to drive them to the restaurant. They did not need to hire a limousine for any other purpose than to provide a greater sense of luxury as at least one person in the group did not drink alcohol so there was no need for a designated driver.
As the two couples were loading into the limousine, my boss noticed that his friend, B., who was wearing dress slacks and a jacket was also sporting a large backpack with all types of accoutrement hooked on. When asked, B. revealed that his backpack was full of various items that would help him survive in case of an emergency: a powerful flashlight, emergency Mylar blanket, packets of freeze dried food, a first aid kit, batteries, radio, etc. My boss asked B. why he had the backpack. B. explained he took it with him everywhere, all the time. "I am a survivalist," B. explained.
After much reassurance that they would probably survive dinner without the backpack, B. finally relented to leaving the backpack in the limousine while they dined.
One evening, he and his wife were going out to dinner with their friend B. and B.'s wife. B. was the IT manager for a big-five accounting firm. He was successful, intellectual and apparently quite urban working downtown in a large high rise building managing the computer systems and IT personnel.
The couples were going to a luxury restaurant, and even though it was not located far from their homes, they hired a limousine to drive them to the restaurant. They did not need to hire a limousine for any other purpose than to provide a greater sense of luxury as at least one person in the group did not drink alcohol so there was no need for a designated driver.
As the two couples were loading into the limousine, my boss noticed that his friend, B., who was wearing dress slacks and a jacket was also sporting a large backpack with all types of accoutrement hooked on. When asked, B. revealed that his backpack was full of various items that would help him survive in case of an emergency: a powerful flashlight, emergency Mylar blanket, packets of freeze dried food, a first aid kit, batteries, radio, etc. My boss asked B. why he had the backpack. B. explained he took it with him everywhere, all the time. "I am a survivalist," B. explained.
After much reassurance that they would probably survive dinner without the backpack, B. finally relented to leaving the backpack in the limousine while they dined.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Flexible Spending Account
My husband is part of the upper-management of a mid-sized, family owned business that employees approximately 100 workers in its warehouse/packing/distribution facility. Among other things, he handles human resources and insurance matters for the company. Almost all of the the employees are uneducated immigrants whose first language is Spanish. Many of the employees are clueless about how health insurance works.
The company recently started offering the employees Flexible Spending Accounts ("FSA") -- the tax deferred medical savings account that allows them to put aside pre-tax dollars to pay for medical and childcare services. For weeks, my husband tried to explain how the plan works to the employees, but no one seemed to understand. Eventually, he received some literature written in Spanish. My husband, with no self consciousness whatsoever, read the literature, in Spanish, to the employees. (My husband does not speak or read Spanish.)
The employees appreciated his efforts to read in Spanish. "Oh, you read better than my son who is in high school!," one employee exclaimed.
My husband was satisfied the employees began to understand the concept of FSA when one woman asked if the plan would cover boob jobs.
The company recently started offering the employees Flexible Spending Accounts ("FSA") -- the tax deferred medical savings account that allows them to put aside pre-tax dollars to pay for medical and childcare services. For weeks, my husband tried to explain how the plan works to the employees, but no one seemed to understand. Eventually, he received some literature written in Spanish. My husband, with no self consciousness whatsoever, read the literature, in Spanish, to the employees. (My husband does not speak or read Spanish.)
The employees appreciated his efforts to read in Spanish. "Oh, you read better than my son who is in high school!," one employee exclaimed.
My husband was satisfied the employees began to understand the concept of FSA when one woman asked if the plan would cover boob jobs.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
The Aneurysms
I went with my husband to a house party in honor of his 30th high school reunion. I was happy to go with him because there were a few people there who I am also friendly with, even though I am a few years younger than my husband and his cohorts. I was particularly pleased to see L.
L. is a bright, charismatic woman. She smiles easily, finding humor in almost any story. She is a renowned graphic artist who is about to launch her own stock photography business specializing in Hispanic images. She is intelligent, worldly, and a lot of fun.
L. met her husband (who is 20 years her senior) about five years ago while on a scuba diving trip. Not too long ago, they went to Jamaica for a vacation. While they were making love (he takes Viagra) she developed a mind splitting headache just as she was about to climax. She described the headache as the most unbearable pain she ever experienced -- like her brain was about to explode. They stopped and then started again later. Again, just as she was about to climax, she developed a mind splitting headache. They tried a third time, and it happened again. (He didn't climax either.)
When they returned to the United States, she saw a doctor. She had some tests done and was rushed to the hospital for surgery. It turns out she had twin aneurysms that were on the brink of bursting. Had she actually climaxed she probably would have died.
Since her surgery, L. can make love without fear of her brain exploding and she has a renewed appreciation for life.
L. is a bright, charismatic woman. She smiles easily, finding humor in almost any story. She is a renowned graphic artist who is about to launch her own stock photography business specializing in Hispanic images. She is intelligent, worldly, and a lot of fun.
L. met her husband (who is 20 years her senior) about five years ago while on a scuba diving trip. Not too long ago, they went to Jamaica for a vacation. While they were making love (he takes Viagra) she developed a mind splitting headache just as she was about to climax. She described the headache as the most unbearable pain she ever experienced -- like her brain was about to explode. They stopped and then started again later. Again, just as she was about to climax, she developed a mind splitting headache. They tried a third time, and it happened again. (He didn't climax either.)
When they returned to the United States, she saw a doctor. She had some tests done and was rushed to the hospital for surgery. It turns out she had twin aneurysms that were on the brink of bursting. Had she actually climaxed she probably would have died.
Since her surgery, L. can make love without fear of her brain exploding and she has a renewed appreciation for life.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Fish
My friends' daughter, S. is three years old. She is precocious, pretty, and loving. S. is curious about everything and her questions are very mature for such a little girl. Her mind works incredibly logically for someone so young.
S. has her hands in everything. She likes to touch. She likes to do. She is not at all shy. She takes the initiative to explore her environment, but is also polite and asks her mommy or daddy for permission.
One day, S.'s daddy took her to the pier. The pier was fully of early morning fisherman casting their lines into the water below. The buckets were filled with small, silver, pencil length fish.
One fisherman caught a fish and pulled his line back so quickly, the fish fell off the hook. It was flapping around on the wood planks of the pier. S. asked, "Daddy, can I get the fish?" Daddy told her to ask the fisherman. In her sweet little girl voice (with a slight lisp), she asked the fisherman, "Can I get the fish." The fisherman said she could.
S. started chasing the fish. She would reach for the fish, almost get it, and the fish would flap away. After a few attempts, S. caught the fish and held it tight in her little hand. "Now put the fish in the man's bucket," Daddy told S. S. proudly dropped the fish in the bucket, her hand splaying open as she released the fish. Then, with a big, proud smile on her face, S. licked the entire surface of her palm where she had just grasped the fish.
When asked how her palm tasted, S. nonchalantly replied, "It was ok."
S. has her hands in everything. She likes to touch. She likes to do. She is not at all shy. She takes the initiative to explore her environment, but is also polite and asks her mommy or daddy for permission.
One day, S.'s daddy took her to the pier. The pier was fully of early morning fisherman casting their lines into the water below. The buckets were filled with small, silver, pencil length fish.
One fisherman caught a fish and pulled his line back so quickly, the fish fell off the hook. It was flapping around on the wood planks of the pier. S. asked, "Daddy, can I get the fish?" Daddy told her to ask the fisherman. In her sweet little girl voice (with a slight lisp), she asked the fisherman, "Can I get the fish." The fisherman said she could.
S. started chasing the fish. She would reach for the fish, almost get it, and the fish would flap away. After a few attempts, S. caught the fish and held it tight in her little hand. "Now put the fish in the man's bucket," Daddy told S. S. proudly dropped the fish in the bucket, her hand splaying open as she released the fish. Then, with a big, proud smile on her face, S. licked the entire surface of her palm where she had just grasped the fish.
When asked how her palm tasted, S. nonchalantly replied, "It was ok."
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