Fiddler on My Roof

Fiddler on My Roof

In honor that this week is Passover, I’m going to let you in on something.

You know the scene in “Fiddler on the Roof” where Tevye has a dream that his daughter should marry Motel, the impoverished tailor and not Lazar Wolf, the creepy and old, but wealthy butcher? It was a premonition of sorts, even though, technically, Tevye concocted the whole dream in order to help his daughter get out of a marriage arranged by Yente, the matchmaker. And, it worked.

Well, that’s what happened to me. Only, not exactly the same way. Continue reading

The Parallel Parking Lament

The Parallel Parking Lament

I’ve got very few nemeses in the world.

Oh who am I kidding? I’ve got tons. And among them is parallel parking.

Yes, I’m not a fan of parallel parking. Wait, that’s not a strong enough statement.

I’ve got a thorn in my side and it’s parallel parking! Continue reading

Goodbye Sunshine, Hello Plan B!

Goodbye Sunshine, Hello Plan B!

They say the sun ages you. Which is why I’ve decided from here on out to avoid natural sunlight at all costs.

Blinds closed? Check. Curtains drawn? Check. Gobs of sun block slathered on every pore of my body? Check! Hats, scarves and long gloves that extend to my shoulders all in place to cover my face, arms and every last bit of exposed skin? Double check!

Which means from now on I can only go out at night. But if I must go out during the day, say to work or to walk Henry and Oliver Continue reading

It’s a Bird, it’s a Plane…It’s a Conspiracy!

It’s a Bird, it’s a Plane…It’s a Conspiracy!

The disappearance of the Malaysian airplane keeps the world in suspense, and with it has come a gaggle of conspiracy theories. The fact that the plane has yet to be located simply adds to the whirligig of paranoiac thought that surrounds it.

Personally, I think Flight 370 pulled a “Lost,” as in the series by that name, the one about the fictitious Oceanic Air jet that crashed on a remote, mysterious island and kept viewers enthralled for six years. The good thing about that airplane was that nearly all the passengers survived. At least that’s what we initially thought. Continue reading

Don’t Quote Me!

Don’t Quote Me!

Don’t quote me, but I’m not Irish.

I did bake Irish Soda Bread once but it was very dry, and as a kid I’d never pass up the opportunity for a bowl of Lucky Charms. I do know how to say, “Top ‘o the morning to you,” though I say it in my standard New York accent and can’t fake the pretty Irish lilt. I love the music of the Chieftains and, of course, that fancy footwork those Irish dancers are so good at.

And that’s about the extent of my Irish-ness. Continue reading