Story Saturday

This story was inspired by a photo taken by the talented Daryl. Go here to see which one....


Esther was walking in the rain, on the Upper West Side of Broadway, lost in thought, her left hand absently clutching the handle of her open black umbrella. Her son, David, was coming home for Shabbat dinner for the first time in three years, and he was bringing his shiksa wife, Amy, with him. He'd tried to convince his mother that Amy had converted to their faith, but Esther wasn't so sure.
"Give the girl a chance" Myron had begged her last night, as she slammed around the kitchen, checking on what groceries she needed to go out and get.
"Why should I?" Esther cried. David was their only child, and she'd had such high hopes. She was sure, when he was just mere hours old that he was going to be a Rabbi, marry a traditional girl, and provide her with many grandsons. Instead, he was a psychologist (not even a doctor!) married to his receptionist, a baptist of all things. And after four years of marriage there was no sign of children yet! And he'd had the unmitigated gall to leave New York City to live in Teaneck, New Jersey!. It just boggled Esther's mind. Her thoughts on this continued as she walked, briskly down towards her favorite bakery. She'd had the time this morning to make the Challah, her special recipe, and she had a brisket in her slow cooker all day. But she had wanted to serve some marbled rye as well, it was a particular favorite of Myron's, and David's. Looking at her watch she groaned, it was nearly 3:30.
"Nice watch, lady" said a greasy redhead, suddenly appearing at her left elbow.
"Yeah nice watch!" said an equally unattractive brown haired boy coming up to her left side.
"I think you need to give it over"
"Yeah, give it over!"
Esther felt a moment of panic, she had been given that watch by her mother on the eve of her wedding to Myron. She always had that watch. Her mother was gone, now, and the watch was one of the few reminders she had left of her.
"Hand it over old woman!" the redhead demanded
"Give it!" echoed the ugly brown haired kid.
Suddenly, Esther saw red. Without even realizing what exactly she was doing, she turned, and, decompressing the umbrella a little, she began to forcefully beat the red headed kid with it, crying, and shouting at him in Yiddish about respecting his elders the entire time. The crowd, milling on the street stood to watch in awe as this little, grey haired lady no taller than 5 feet proceeded to beat him, until he ran off, his friend in tow, and her umbrella lay, spent, and broken, in the street.
"He tried to take my watch" she announced, loudly, still angry, at everything.
"Then you did good, ma'am" offered one of the onlookers, secretly impressed with how she'd handled it.
"Thank you" said Esther, and, feeling the last vestiges of red hot anger leave her, she traveled the last few blocks, to the bakery, and got TWO loaves of marbled rye.
That night, during Shabbat dinner, Esther was very kind, and talked more with Amy than she ever had. When Amy and David announced their coming child, no one was happier than Esther. She decided that having a shiksa daughter in law might not be so bad, after all....

Friday Mieography

my Christmas miracle came early....
last night, I was trying to leave for work. And it was cold outside. As I have been doing for the last few nights, every time I stepped out the door, I scanned for Jack. And called his name. To my shock, I got an answer. Now Jack has the most pitiful sissified meow there is. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was him. So I called work, and told them I'd be a few minutes late. (I was not going to lose him again, damn it). I kept calling. He kept answering. MM and MG had left already for her guitar lesson. So it was just me and him. The dogs were inside in their crate. I call he answers. Marco... Polo.....
Then, after about 20 minutes, I spot him. He's in our neighbors yard, slowly coming towards me. Stopping every now and then to love on a tree. We are on opposite sides of a fence. Not a tall one, and one I can get my hands through. I sit down, and stick my hand through the fence. For about 10 minutes he teases me, rubbing against my fingers, then running off to love a tree. Meowing the whole time. Knowing this may well be my last chance, I wait him out. Work be damned. I love my job, but I want my cat back. So I wait. Finally, he truly comes. I scratch his head, where he likes it. Then I grab him, and lift him up. I have to stick my other hand through the fence so I can reach over it with my right hand, and before he knows what hit him, I've got him, and he isn't getting away. Not that he tried to. He stayed, still in my arms as I walked back to the house, scolding him and praising him the whole way. He got a little unsettled as I unlocked the door, but relaxed when he saw where we were. I put him in the bathroom, with a can of wet food, and examined him. He is fine. Not a scratch on him. I had to leave him there, to go to work, but MM and MG were able to liberate him into the house when they got home, about 2 hours later. I think the time alone inside was good for him to decompress, and eat and drink. So the rascal is back, and will be monitored very closely, and not allowed anywhere near an open door for a GOOD LONG TIME. Thanks everyone for your good, positive thoughts.
ok, cat drama over, here is the Mieography :)






the suggestion of Mustang Girl.....

Shirley Hardie Jackson was born in San Francisco, Calif, in 1916. She grew up in the small community of Burlingame, California. Before she went to high school, however, the family moved to Rochester, New York, where she attended high school, and eventually college. She started college at the University of Rochester (she was *asked* to leave, hmm) so she finished at Syracuse University with a BA, in 1940. While at college, she became involved with the literary magazine there, where she met her husband, Stanley Hyman (unfortunate name) who was a noted literary critic.
She developed some interesting hobies, as well, such as collecting small ceramic snails, and learning to play the mandolin. She collected the snails her whole life, and her collection is now on display at a Junior High cafeteria, on the days when snails are the entree. (What jr. high in their RIGHT mind serves snails? This isn't France for pity's sake!).
Shirley also did not like people thinking she was older than her husband, and would change her birth year to reflect herself being younger.
She is best known for her short story, "The Lottery", though she was quite a prolific writer. She wrote 6 nvels, 2 memoirs, 4 short story collections well over 150 short stories that were published, and four children's books. Some of her novels were also adaped to the stage and made it all the way to Broadway. They also made it to film.
She died young, at only 48 years old, in her sleep, of heart failure. She had been ill with various things throughout her life, various neuroses, and psychosomatic illnesses. These problems, and also her penchant for the medications she prescribed, contributed towards her death. She was also a heavy smoker.
Her husband released a posthumous volume of her work after she died, with several chapters of an unfinished novel, and several short stories.
She won some awards for her writing as well, including a National Book Award nomination, she was listed in Time as one of 1962's "Ten Best Novels", and an award from the Mystery Writers of America's "Edgar" award for Best Short Story. It was for one called "The Possibility of Evil:, which was published in the Saturday Evening Post, in 1965.

Thursday 13

We are getting our Christmas Tree this week, and I SO love the whole Christmas Tree thing. Getting it will take my mind off of what a crappy week it's been so far. (Still trying to get the silly black cat inside. Losing hope).
Anyhow. I have quite a few ornaments for my tree. Some are old ones from my childhood. Some are ones I've collected on the way. So here are my 13 favorite ornaments that hang on my tree....

1. You can't really appreciate this one, unless you get to see it in person. It is so ridiculous that it utterly charmed me. The fluffy feathers, the striped legs. I laughed and laughed. Then I bought it. And I have a camel, too. But it isn't quite as ridiculously fun as this one....


2. This is part of a set I have that depicts the 12 days of Christmas. Obviously, he is a piper piping. I like hanging men from my tree :)


3. This is one of the few I don't really recall where I got it from. But it's one of my favorites, just the same.


4. This is one of my newer ornaments, and for some reason this little airplane just shouts Christmas! at me. Maybe because I buy toys for little boys year after year after year...


5. I bought this one in Paris, at the Louvre. I always have good memories when I look at it.


6. I bought this one in Charleston a few years ago. How many others can say they have a sailor hanging from their tree?


7. This is one was painted by my Mom before I was even born. It hung on our family tree for many years. My mom, for whatever reason, decided almost 10 years ago to give me and my sisters all the old ornaments. We split them up three ways and I cherish each and every one of them that I got.


8. Yes this is really a cat in a crinoline. I had a Christmas Party one year, and someone brought me this as a 'hostess gift'. I was kind of appalled at first but she has grown on me over the years, and now I laugh hysterically, and hang her in the front of the tree for all the people to shudder at.


9. This is another one from my childhood. My Mom painted it. I remember being entranced with it when it hung from our family tree. It's sparkly eyes have fallen off over the years, but I still love it.


10. A young lady made these for me with her own two little hands. Crafty little thing. I love them. I wish that I had a big pair for my own hands...



11. I have the whole Peanuts gang in ornaments. Except Woodstock. Why oh Why didn't they make a Woodstock?


12. My Scruffy lil tugboat. I've had this one for a long time. It even came with a mini little golden book that tells his story. I always think of my tugboat years when I hang it up.



13. My Mom brought me this little elf right from Finland, home of Santa, himself. He looks especially charming swinging from a top branch. I used him as my blog header last year.



For other participants of Thursday 13, go here

No Joy in Mudville

Jack is still somewhere outside, whereabouts unknown.
I am reconciling myself to the fact that
-if we are lucky, we will see him time to time, and he will just be an outside cat
- if we are unlucky, he is going to disappear completely, and I will always wonder where my silly boy went.

BUT
he knows, obviously, where the house is, so he must be finding something satisfactory out of doors. Its freaking COLD tonight, I hope his hidey hole is warm. And I hope it doesn't snow too soon, because he has only seen it first hand on one occasion, and he didn't like it one bit.

Wordless Wednesday

we had a Jack sighting on the front porch last night. Mustang Girl reached out to bring him in, and Audrey hissed and a dog ran out the door, and he scrambled away. But, he's nearby, and he knows where the door is, so I have hopes of luring him back in to safety. He's probably cold and frightened, and has found a hidey hole somewhere. MM and I spent a considerable amount of time outside with flashlights looking, but trying to find a black cat on a dark winters night is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The plan? When the sun is up I will go out again, looking, and I will keep the house doors open and the dogs in check today. I hope he will decide to wander back in. He's got to be hungry...

Go Navy, Beat Army!

That weekend is coming again.
Yes, this Saturday, the Navy football team will, once again, beat the Army into total submission.
There is not a single doubt in my mind about it.
But, for the first time in many many years, I will more than likely miss the game.
I am working all weekend.
Because I did not check to see when the game was when I filled out the schedule.
Damn it.
Kick off is high noon, Philadelphia time. That is 9 am, my time. And I will HAVE to be sleeping, because I will have worked Friday night, and am scheduled Saturday night.
I will be begging to be on Call Friday night, more than likely.
I can't believe I scheduled myself for Army Navy weekend!
As I believe I mentioned last year, this game is huge. All four years I was in the Navy, I was involved in the filming of a commercial for the game. They have this competition for the Command area that can make the best commercial. We never won, so "my" commercial never aired. But we didn't care, it was a blast doing them. Then, on game day, everything stopped on every base and every ship. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Oh wait. Thats something else.
Anyways. We would all be glued to the TV. We laughed, we cried, we yelled. I still do all that on Navy Army game day.
This year, I am betting I will be yelling Go Navy! In my sleep. You can count on it.

And on another completely unrelated downer, we discovered Monday night that my fearsome (fearful?) black cat, Jack the Ripper, apparently got outside, and he is now gone. As in we cannot find him. So now we are down a cat, and a dog. Granted, I know where Cheese went, but the loss of Jack breaks my heart. He is an odd little cat but I loved him.

weekend catch up, and a question answered

Ok so being the geek that I am, I totally had to google why Black Friday is known as black Friday. Here is what I came up with.
There is more than one explanation. One of them is that since everyone is shopping gleefully, many of the stores go from in the red (debt) to in the black (profit.). Therefore,'black Friday'.
And the other? It stems from Philadelphia, where it was first coined, in 1965. It originally was used by the Philly police department, because the opening of the Christmas shopping season created huge amounts of traffic jams, overcrowded sidewalks and mobbing in the downtown stores. The term started to get real use in the mid seventies, until it has now evolved into the familiar term we are all used to, now. Unfortunately, this past black Friday kind of made it worse. I think it is ridiculous, utterly maddening, and so very very sad that people are dying. I think all stores should CLOSE for black Friday. It is just waaaay too far out of hand. (Sorry Fairytales and Margarita's...).
Anyhow.
So there you have black Friday.
I am now refreshed and recharged from my relaxing weekend. We had a great Thanksgiving, a nice, home cooked meal, with plenty of leftovers, then, Friday we spent the afternoon with some good friends partaking of THEIR leftovers. Saturday, we hung out, and went to see Twilight. I didn't hate the movie, but in my opinion it was very slow. And, the 'smouldering looks' that Edward was supposed to be giving Bella were pathetic. Sorry, had to be said. Mustang Girl agrees with me. We've both read the books, however, so we were bound to be disappointed.
Sunday, we cleaned house, and put up most of our Christmas decorations. We also had one of our friends drop by, so we foisted off some of OUR leftovers on him. (I am liking this exchange of leftovers thing.) I still have enough turkey here to make Turkey Noodle Soup for tomorrow, though.
I should also mention that Cheese went to his new home, and the change is very noticeable here. The energy level is more positive, calmer. Handling two dogs is much easier. The girls are very laid back. They looked for him just a few minutes, after I let them out that first morning. Now if everyone would send their good thoughts towards the Cheese. I think he is in for the more difficult adjustment. I do actually miss the boy, but he was too much....
So there you go. All caught up in my daily saga, AND now you know why Black Friday is Black Friday.