I wish... (lyn)

Carol invites Alexander and me to a small dinner party at her house.  Alexander agrees to go “only if Matthew is going to be there.”  Matthew is Carol’s 19-year old son, and was one of Alexander’s closest elementary-school friends.  They have grown apart over the years, attending different middle schools, high schools, and now college (Matthew is a sophomore at Dartmouth).  But the bond that formed so many years ago is still there, though perhaps a little weaker.

As usual, Carol outdoes herself with the food.  There are only 14 of us, though the food she’s prepared could easily have served twice that number.  Soon I’ll eat more carefully, but not tonight. 

The guests include a retired criminal judge, a professor at Yale, ex owners of one of the most exquisite French restaurants in NY (from 1979 to 2009), and a past president of the Ford Foundation.  It is a liberal and spirited group with much to say.  The conversation never lags, and the political conversations are interesting to listen to. I am at a loss to contribute with such well-informed and passionate debaters in the room.

Alexander and Matthew leave early, preferring to be with their friends.  I’m able to grab one last picture of 2012.

I leave before midnight as Alexander is having some kids over.  Even though he’s promised there will be no drinking, and even though I trust him, he is, after all, only 20, and well, good intentions are easily abandoned at that age.  I come home, and because I come home, the group at my house has already left to go  somewhere else.  

Before the ball drops, I reflect on the past year and welcome the new.  On a personal level, there have been many challenges this year, the major one’s being: my dad’s continued struggle with his health, Alexander’s adjustment to college, and my getting a great consulting gig that ends in disappointment.  But there has been joy too, highlighted by my nephew Jason’s engagement to Amanda,

Aside from the obvious wishes of good health, here are my hopes for 2013:

• Alexander successfully completes two more semesters at Cornell
• I find meaningful work
•  I end the year no higher in weight than I am today, 126.8 (which is 4.6 higher than year-end 2012)
•  I fall in love (which feels as likely as winning the Powerball lottery)
• I continue to be rich with many deep and lasting friendships.

May it be a good year for us all.  And may this troubled world, and divided country, be in a better place a year from now.  Happy 2013. 

perspective (lyn)

I admit it.  I like watching Judge Judy. Not everyday, but every now and then.

Recently I watched a case where a parent is describing his son.  “He’s basically a good kid.  He’s never been in jail.  Never been arrested.”  Wow, I think.  Is this his standard for goodness? 

This morning I am talking to Mike, the building handyman.  He’s in his early 40’s.  Aziz (one of our doormen) is telling him about my lockout yesterday, and I say to Mike (knowing he has kids), “Just wait till your kids are older.”  Aziz jumps in and says, “Mike’s kids are old.  15 and 20.  He’s already a grandfather.”  Yes, Mike has two grandkids, ages two and three.  His 20 year-old son had his first baby at age 17.

A friend tells me of a friend of hers who comes home and finds her 21-year old son having sex with his girlfriend on the kitchen floor.  “And I just re-did the kitchen,” the mother says.  My friend doesn’t ask which is more upsetting.

And so…

A messy living room?  Forgotten keys?  Sleeping till noon?  I’d say I’m pretty lucky.

locked out (lyn)

I once employed a nanny for Alexander who turned out to be awful.  She performed well enough with Alexander (who was 3 at the time) but was horrid with me.  She had been with us only a few weeks.  After one-too-many blow-ups over stupid stuff, I decide to fire her.  I come home from work one day and tell her that I no longer need her services.  This couldn’t have been much of a surprise, as my discontent had to have been obvious. She insists on two-week’s severance; I say no, and she plants herself at my dining table and tells me she is not leaving until she is paid her severance.  I leave my own apartment with her in it.   I call the police who come and tell her she’s trespassing.  She leaves, and I change the locks — just in case.

The locks I got 17 years ago are not the ones provided by the building, and therefore do not fit the building’s master key.  But that’s never been a problem since we keep a spare set in the lobby closet.

Today Alexander and I make a quick Costco run, refilling on giant frozen shrimp, chicken breasts, fruit, bread, and vegetables.  Our quick shopping spree costs $100.  I can never leave that store for less. 

We get home and realize that neither one of us has keys.  Alexander mistakenly has taken the keys to his dorm room.  No problem, I think.  There’s another set downstairs.  But then I hear Alexander moan, “Oh know.”  Turns out he borrowed the spare set last night and didn’t return it.  I pretend Alexander is a good friend.  I wouldn’t get angry at a good friend, so why get angry at my son, right?  It works.  I stay calm.

Fortunately, there’s an empty refrigerator and freezer in our building’s basement, so I temporarily unload our groceries there, hoping none of the doormen get hungry in the meantime. 

Our favorite junior handyman (Jonathan) comes up and tries to open our door with a credit card.  It doesn’t work.  I suppose I should be grateful that the lock we have is a good one; I’m not.  Jonathan tells us that the lock we have is a special Multi-Lock and would cost a lot for a locksmith to open.  And then it’s Sunday.

Jonathan surreptitiously tells us that Roberto, our off-duty super (who does not like to be disturbed on his day off) is in.  I knock on his door and he is not happy.  He coughs and tells me he is sick.  He reprimands me for not having a building-sanctioned lock.  He tells me a locksmith would be very expensive.  Then he agrees to come up in twenty-minutes to see if he can do anything.

With the groceries not in any danger of thawing, Alexander and I sit in front of our door and wait.  Neither of us is in a talking mood.  Finally Roberto arrives with a large wrench.  He works wonders and manages to open the door.  Alexander and I want to cry we’re so happy.

Tomorrow we’re replacing our locks with the ones supplied by the building.  And Robyn is getting a spare set.  I doubt Alexander will make this mistake again.  Sometimes saying little is more effective than saying much.

broken plans (lyn)

It’s a cloudy day.  Snow teasingly falls but doesn’t stick. I get my hair colored and blown out. 

My plans for the evening are simple ones:  dinner with Alexander and Episode Four of HOMELAND, and then at 8, Arlen and Robyn are coming over to watch THIS IS 40. 

After getting my hair-colored, I pick up dinner for Alexander and me. Shortly after coming home, a couple of Alexander’s friends come over and they watch SKYFALL, the new James Bond movie.   I go off to my bedroom so the boys can own the living room.  They must be hungry because I hear them ordering in Chinese food.

Around 6:45, and while I’m on the phone, Alexander comes into my bedroom and announces that he is going out with his friends but he’ll be home “by 7, 7:30.”   I am only half-listening, as I am on the phone —a prop that is invisible to my son.

I walk into the kitchen and a scary site awaits me.  The dishwasher is full and my sink is overflowing with dirty dishes.  Alexander’s clothes are strewn around his room, and empty glasses sit in the living room.  I realize the time and know that Arlen and Robyn will be over soon, so I call Alexander (upset at the way he left things) and tell him he needn’t bother coming home for dinner, as I need to eat now.  I think he’s relieved.  Dinner with his friends is a more appealing prospect.  I clean the kitchen, the living room, and heat up dinner, even though I’m not hungry and would prefer to eat later.

I sit down to eat at 7:15, and the phone rings.  It’s Robyn.  She and Arlen won’t be coming over as Arlen had foot surgery only yesterday and the wet pavement tonight is too risky for someone new to crutches.

I end up watching neither Homeland with Alexander, nor a movie with friends. I eat dinner alone and read a chick-lit book, .  What a waste— and my hair looked so good.  

dinner at home (lyn)

About a year ago I received a gorgeous flame-colored Le Creuset wok as a gift from Gail.  It looks like a piece of art.  The wok was totally unexpected and extraordinarily generous.  Tonight, I use it to make a healthy dinner for Alexander and me.

I go to Agata this afternoon and buy cut vegetables of carrots, red and yellow peppers, sugar snaps, onions, mushrooms, broccoli and asparagus.  I use up my remaining frozen jumbo shrimp from Costco, about 20 pieces. 

I’m not sure exactly what to do, so I refer to an email Gail sent me soon after I received the wok.  And then I ad-lib as follows:

• Heat some grape oil at a high temperature
• Add a bit of Classic Stir Fry Sauce from House of Tsang
• Throw in all the vegetables
• Add salt and pepper
• Sauté and cover for two minutes or so
• Add the shrimp
• Throw in a bit of KAME’s Duck Sauce
• Sauté and cover for another two minutes
• Serve

The meal takes under ten minutes to make.  The blend of sauces is superb; the vegetables are all crisp; and the shrimp is not overcooked.  We eat every last bit while watching Homeland, Season Two, Episode Three. Alexander does his best translation of the show’s Arabic.  It’s the perfect dinner in every way.