Thanksgiving 2010

I’m torn about blogging the holidays. Who cares what my family did this Thanksgiving? Like many of us, we ate and talked and ate and laughed and ate and drank here and there. I know that many of you experienced similar Thanksgivings as I am just as bloated from your Facebook turkey updates as I still am from our own Thanksgiving feast. And yes, I am grateful for countless things and people, but why should my list be anymore interesting or inspirational than any of yours? Isn’t everyone grateful for slow-close toilet seats and sock holders? No, seriously. Sock-holders have changed my life. So screw it. I’ll just give you some highlights from the weekend at my sister’s house which have nothing to do with Thanksgiving.

i-Travel. Fact: there is a mathematical correlation between the number of electronic devices and infrequent periods of whining. This trip to Boston was the smoothest ever thanks to apps. The i-Phone and i-Pad entertained both boys for hours. Irreparable damage to our kids’ brains? Possibly. Then again, who’s to say that all the Mitch Miller we endured on 8-track during road-trips from Chicago to Florida didn’t completely mess with our heads on a more subtle and sinister level?

All I know is that we did not stop once on our 4 hour drive to Boston, and there was no whining or arguing or kicking the back of my seat during the entire journey.

Rock Band, in fact, rocks. It brings out the inner rocker in us all.

And some of us (ahem) should keep our rockers tucked away or at least make sure that the use of cameras is prohibited during rock-outs. White Wedding if you're wondering.


My lady-friend, Gabriella. Bless her cotton socks. On the way home, the boys were so involved with their i-Things that Gabriella and I were able to listen to some tunes on the radio. It only took about two measures of Cat's in the Cradle for Gabriella to start weeping. Granted, she was running on less sleep than usual. When we hang out with family, the kids tend to wake up earlier, and we tend to go to bed later. Lack of sleep definitely makes us more fragile. Exhaustion, motherhood, hormones and Gabriella's advanced age combine to make the perfect emotional bomb, and evidently Cat's in the Cradle is the fuse. KAPOW!


Needless to say, I have broken out into song randomly and spontaneously ever since we arrived home. “When you coming home, Mommy? I don’t know when. But we’ll get together then, son. You’ll know we’ll have a good time then”. It’s therapy, I tell you. I’m desensitizing her to the lyrics and helping her come to terms with the void our children feel when she leaves for work each and every day. I know, I know. You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that I should have been a psychologist.

Thanksgiving. Ok, I lied. I can not suppress the gratitude I feel any longer, and I will, therefore, share some of it here in the spirit of the holiday. If you’ve had it up to wherever you’ve had it with thanks, then we’re done here. You may be dismissed. Otherwise, I present to you some nuggets of appreciation.

I am thankful that Isadora and Gaetano are no longer able to abuse their mommy in utero as they did throughout their entire gestation. They can now torture their moms and their older sister in person, and we wish them all much love and happiness.

After a motorcycle accident of grand proportions, we are grateful that our friend Tracey is alive and surrounded by friends and family. After a few successful surgeries, she now faces months of arduous rehabilitation. I am grateful for our dear friend and skilled surgeons and the many flavors of pain medication.

And, I am grateful to all of you who take a few minutes of your time to check in and see what is swimming around in my wee brain. Thank you for being the beautiful little blog-enablers that you are.

Real L Word Comedy Night

From the class act on Thursday at The Pee Wee Herman Show to the trash act on Saturday, The Real L Word Comedy evening, I’m getting a hearty helping of New York City. In taking advantage of every event that comes our way, I’m also reminded that some helpings are rather unsavory. Saturday’s showcase of talent at The Stonewall Inn reminded me that we lesbians are, in fact, everywhere including the dark caverns of gay bars siphoning alcohol and behaving in a manner only appropriate for reality television...and dark caverns of gay bars apparently. Sure, New York is filled with culture, but some of that culture resembles the culture found on the end of a Q-tip before it’s placed in a petri dish and inspected for syphilis rather than culture resembling art. The Real L Word Comedy Night definitely resembled the former.

Gabriella and I rarely refuse a night out on the town. We live in close proximity to New York City, and we have every intention of taking full advantage. That said, we do prefer Broadway to bars, and now I recall why.

We would not have paid for a babysitter and tickets to see Showtime’s The Real L Word’s Stamie Karakasidis and gal pal Rose Garcia had it not been for organizers Jess, Senior Editor, at Autostraddle and Grace Chu of Grace The Spot. I’m a big fan of these websites and all the talented ladies delivering its content. Jess and Grace put on a show, and we wanted to be there to support. I also like a bit of comedy, and I figured I’d get me some. Apparently, Gabriella and I were the only ones who were interested in the comedy. Everyone else, it seemed, was only interested in sharing the same space as these ce-LEZ-brities and stepping on and over each other to get a picture with them.

The Real L Word fans drank more than their lady-like share and cat-called and cackled and got in each other’s faces and carried on so loudly throughout the entire evening, that no one could hear any of the comedians performing before Stamie. Behold one of many tell-tale moments captured by chance as one fan let a sister-lesbian know how she felt about being asked to move over a wee bit. Lovely.

In all fairness to Jess and Grace Chu, the comedians delivered. Prior to Real L Word’s Stamie Karakasidis, Poppi Kramer of Biggest Loser fame, Jessie Richardson and Last Comic Standing contestant Claudia Cogan all had their moment at the mic. Their material was clever and original and worth the cost of admission-as far as I could hear, anyway. Sadly, the atmosphere left me wondering how I had arrived at this dyke-tastic display of delinquency. Had I been sitting at a table sipping a cocktail instead of clutching my drink close to my person and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, it would have been a delightful evening. Alas, I couldn’t wait to unstick my feet from the floor, weave my way gingerly through the crowd of dykes-gone-wild and get outta there.

The highlight of the night? Street parking around the corner from the venue in the West Village on a Saturday night...FREE! To the parking garage attendant who initially told us it would cost $55 to park the minivan for over 2 hours, you can SUCK IT!!

Part of Stamie's set. Need I warn you that there may be some adult content and foul language? No? I didn't think so.

Pee Wee and Parker

The state of the blog is woeful, I know. No need to remind me that I have not been updating often. Many of us bloggers ebb and flow-sometimes for good reason and other times not. Some of us just don’t love you anymore, and we want to withhold and hurt you. Some of us love you too much and choose to spare you the obligation of having to read us constantly. You decide which camp is yours. I will tell you that I have been a busy beaver of late which, whether I love you or not, has prevented a steady stream of blogging.

One of the highlights of last week was attending the opening night of Pee Wee Herman on Broadway thanks to Stage Manager Extraordinaire, Lois. The show was spectacular for a multitude of reasons. There was an electricity in the air that had little to do with the $12 cocktails sold in the lobby. Everyone was visibly thrilled to come out for Pee Wee and relive the catch phrases and the films and the brilliance that is Paul Reubens.

Sadly, when I shared the great news that Gabriella and I would be attending the premiere, more than a few friends could only ask, “Why would you do that?” There was a disparaging reference or two to his past, and I couldn’t help but feel sad. This guy is busting with brilliance, and I was thrilled to experience his talent live. Woe is you, you jaded and jealous sods. And besides, he’s rubber, you're glue — whatever you say bounces off him and sticks to you! HA HA!! I just realized I used the word "woe" twice already. Woe-well.

But Pee Wee and I need not your approval. We are but few of the minions who appreciate creativity, originality and celebrating our inner child. The celebrities in the audience clearly agreed. Susan Sarandon, John Waters, Alan Cumming, Fran Lebowitz, Martha Plimpton, David Byrne, Natasha Lyonne, Todd Oldham and on and on.


The show was phenomenal. It was nostalgic and fun and visually exciting. We have since introduced the boys to the television series via boxed set of DVDs. They, too, are fans. I see a matinee in their future. I'm going to wish it so. Mecca Lecca Hi Mecca Hiney Ho!

We made our way to the after party after Lovely Lois’s back stage tour. I wasn’t allowed to take pictures of the set, so I am not able to post the photos that I did not take. I can post a photo or two from the party. Much as I wanted to stalk all the celebrities and capture their souls with my camera, I refrained so as not to embarrass our host.

Sound Designer Mark "MuTTT" Huang and Stage Manager Lois Griffing

At the buffet, Lois introduced us to 32 year old Alex Timbres who wrote and directed Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson, and is the director of The Pee Wee Herman Show. “What did you parents do right?” I asked him. “They raised me in New York City where there is culture.” Alrighty, then. So much for all of my efforts to big-up the burbs.

I did approach one celebrity because I simply could not leave the party without worshipping her to her face. From first sighting at the show to the party, I let her be -- too star-struck to know what to say. I’ve humiliated myself at introductions past, and I just couldn’t take the risk that I might make a bad impression on Parker Posey; the Party Girl herself. Parker Posey sat with her boyfriend, Scott Lenhardt, and they were surprisingly on their own.

The next 10 minutes would be the highlight of my evening - sorry Paul. Perhaps if I had had a chance to speak with you, I’d feel differently. Luckily, I did not have to compare highlights, and Parker Posey made my night...week...month...and who knows how long our meeting will remain my precipice.

Now I know that the best thing I can do for my kids is not, in fact, raise them in New York City but to teach them how to read palms. The most valuable skill that I ever learned in college was how to read palms. I’m not sure that reading palms was worth the full tuition amount at a private university, but I have made the most of it. I’m good value at a party. Just saying. I read Parker Posey’s palm, and we chatted for a spell. She introduced us to her man-friend, and I introduced her to Gabriella and our other friends who were able to join us that night.

Thank you, Parker, for being gracious and open and kind and for allowing me to fiddle with your palm and peek into your person. You are a classy lady and a mensch.

“So many great performances. We’ve loved them all,” Gabriella and I confessed. "And, we'll always have a special place in our hearts for 'Party Girl'."

“It’s all in the writing,” she answered. “But no one is writing anything good anymore.”

Hmmm.

No dogs allowed...yet

Sitting in the waiting room at our pediatrician’s office without either child, Gabriella and I chatted--something we rarely get to do without interruption in the middle of the day. Our doctor was running late for our doctor-patient conference which, of course, was a complete shock. Who ever heard of a doctor running late? Gabriella thumbed through the one cooking magazine she could find amidst the piles of mommy magazines distilling parenting advice into digestible paragraphs.

Gabriella: There’s a gaggle of gay boys at the train platform I see every morning.

Deborah: Have you made contact?

G: As a matter of fact, I chatted with a couple of them yesterday morning. David and David.

D: Are they together?

G: Yes.

D: Cute.

G: And one of them is a behavioral pediatrician. We talked about the boys for a bit, and he had some interesting thoughts.

D: Mmm hmm.

G: Yes. He asked if we had a dog.

Insert sound of record needle scratched off an LP.

D: We’re not getting a dog.

Dogs. I love them. I do. Dogs have been a part of my childhood since birth. In theory, I would like to have a dog. I want the boys to experience the unconditional love of a furry, friendly, happy friend....as long as the dog comes with its own dog-nanny.

Don’t roll your eyes and tell me that dogs are easy because I know from first-hand experience that there is nothing easy about caring for a dog. Forget about the day to day chores of walks and poop pick-up and imagine the not so day-to-day lives of dogs. Imagine the inevitable illnesses and piles of warm, vomit gagged up on carpets left for me to pick up. Imagine the aftermath when lovable pooch gets into the birthday cake we left sitting on the counter for just a second to answer the door. (Flashback to my sister’s 6th birthday and the half cake left standing.) Imagine the hip displacement, cataracts, arthritis or kidney disease. Imagine the Freshpet food that is so fresh that it must be refrigerated because we will be guilted into serving only the very best and most healthy food. Ew.

Pet people: But your dog will be a member of your family. You wouldn’t think about life without your children because they get sick occasionally and vomit on your rug, would you?

Deborah: Really?

Not everyone wants to have a child, and that is perfectly fine by me. I don’t care what your reasons are. If you don’t want a child, you definitely shouldn’t have one. As a matter of fact, I applaud you for not caving into societal pressures to procreate. Kids are not accessories, and neither are dogs. And if I should not want a dog, I should not have a dog.

Gabriella: David says that dogs are really great for all kids because they reduce anxiety and increase social skills.

Deborah: Dogs increase anxiety in mothers--this mother, anyway.

Gabriella casually flipped through the cooking magazine: Can you believe all these adds for pharmaceuticals? Every single ad in this magazine is for a drug-a drug with 50 side effects, no less. Look, I don’t really want a dog either, but if having a dog benefits our children....

Deborah: Are you telling me that if I refuse to get a dog, I am denying my kids a well-adjusted childhood?

Gabriella: I’m going to ask the doctor what she thinks.

Deborah: You do that. You set me up, didn’t you? I bet you spoke with her earlier and prepped her for a conversation about dogs. You did, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Next you’re going to tell me that your mother came to you in a dream last night and told that you if we didn’t get a dog our children would be cursed for eternity. Listen here, Tevye, tell Fruma Rosa we are not getting a dog*.

Gabriella: Do you think I should serve stew on Saturday for our dinner party?

Deborah: Too casual.

Gabriella: Ok then. Are you upset now?

Deborah: No. I was just thinking that I should hang out with you more often. You give good blog.

*Fiddler on the Roof reference:


Happy Birthday, Nonna. We miss you.