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Pancake Meditates

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I have been listening to Guided Imagery CD’s from Belleruth Naparstek, a psychotherapist, to help me sleep better. Here’s what Belleruth looks like:

Image

Perfect, right?

So I was in bed a few nights ago listening to her CD, with one Pancake right next to me. The room was dark, Belleruth’s voice was soothing, and I was concentrating on relaxing and the lovely guitar music that was playing underneath her words. As I breathed deeper, I thought to myself, “God, I hope this works.”

A few seconds passed. Then I heard some surprisingly hardy snoring right next to me. It was from this little girl:

Little Miss Dainty can really chop wood while she sleeps!

Well at least meditation is working for someone!

 

The Freewheelin’ Jeanne Adele

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As readers of this blog know, our mother Jeanne has had some memory issues of late, which have resulted in my not posting as much, since I am spending more of my free time helping my darling Ma-ma. This help has mostly taken the form of driving her to her hair appointments at a salon called “Aesthetics,” where, I would bet, many of the customers and employees would not know how to spell the name of the shop, should their lives depend on it.

But anyway, our devoted and dazzling brother Andy has created a calendar which lives on Bob and Jeanne’s dining room table, front and center in the gloom that is their Hackensack apartment, on which Andy writes Jeanne and Bob’s many upcoming medical appointments. The other day, Jeanne confided in me that she doesn’t much care for the calendar. ”Why?” I asked her. “I like to be more freewheeling,” she explained.

Here she is, the freewheeling Jeanne (in this photo, with her saucy sister, Sandra). Bob Dylan would be proud.

 

I Still Know How to Shake it!

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I did something last night that I haven’t done in ages: I went to a dance party. My friend Nancy talked me into it; though honestly, she didn’t have to do too much arm-twisting when she told me it would be  50s and 60s music. I was so worried my feet would hurt that I wore sneakers that Sassafrass had grown tired of, with jeans and a $7 t-shirt from Target. I looked like a 15 year old – a 15 year old wearing some very nice jewelry, that is.

I wasn’t too nervous until Nancy said to me, “Are you nervous?” Then I thought, who am I kidding? I’m 50. I don’t know how to do any of these dances. Eek! Meanwhile, Nancy was off in the bathroom changing into a flippy skirt and her dancing shoes.

Then we got to the dance and here’s what it looked like:

Whew! Twirl me, baby!

 

All I could think was, I said yes to Nancy and she will kill me if I bail. I have to stay here at least an hour. So I stood up straight and smiled. Then someone asked me to dance. And someone else, and someone else. This is New York, so there were all manners of kooks and weirdos of both genders, but there were lovely people, too. And what I really liked about it was that there was no hidden agenda – it was all about the dancing. It felt so great to get out of my own head and move my body to something other than an elliptical trainer. Every time I looked at Nancy she was swinging away, with her eyes closed in total bliss.

Now I’m on the mailing list. And guess what? There’s a Motown dance in a few weeks. Hopefully my sore tootsies will recover by then.

Uh-oh: Someone ATE Pancake’s Ball

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I took my Pancake to the dog run with a new acquistion: this wonderful mini squeaky tennis ball, perfect for her to hold in her mouth comfortably while she gets her belly rubbed, is humped, and otherwise frolics with the other hounds.

But today, that ball caused trouble.

It all began when a big old lovable lab/retriever sort whom I will call Henry went wild when he smelled Pancake’s ball. He was sweet but strong, and was nosing around us as soon as we got there. His owner was a very nice young woman who kep dragging Henry away from Pancake, who was both taunting Henry with her small prize (ie, sticking her face right in his and wagging her tail, saying, “Look what I have! And you want it but ya can’t get it!!”) and valiantly guarding it with petite woofs and growls.

But eventually Pancake got distracted by a big humper named Juicy Fruit who literally would not get off her tail -  and that’s when Henry dove in, grabbed the ball – and swallowed it.

The collected dogs and owners went crazy. The owner was pissed and told me that Henry had swallowed balls before and would probably poop it out – but that I shouldn’t have brought out a little ball at the dog run where there are lots of big boys. I suppose she has a point and I did feel terrible. But shouldn’t she have better control over her dog? He was the only one chasing after the `Cake.

Is it just me?

 

 

 

Hef came to Bob & Jeanne’s!

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Bob, aka Hef

Bob, aka Hef

 

I went to Bob and Jeanne’s this weekend to celebrate Jeanne’s triumphal return from her second visit in as many weeks from Hackensack Hospital. Brother Peter, who’d flown into NJ to slap some sense into his aged parents, made a Chicken Parm Surprise for lunch. Bob wanted to eat in front of the TV, which he likes to blare at a dulcet volume level of 85 so he can watch CNN around the clock and hear 10% of what the reporters are saying. But his beloved children prevailed on him to come to the table, so he reluctantly wheeled himself out wearing a devastating ensemble of Depends and a blue velour bathrobe, circa 1975. You can see how he looked, in the first image above. Andy took one look at him and said, “Hef? Is that you?”

Bob nodded amiably as he speared some ziti. Then he debonairly took a sip of Diet Pepsi through an ancient straw. Come to think of it, Hef and Bob probably do look a lot alike these days.

I ate a Hash Brownie by Mistake!

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I went to a 50th Birthday party for an old friend with my pal Leighann. There were brownies in the darkened back room. I ate one. Then someone turned up the lights. That’s when I saw the sign:

Magic Brownies! Peace & Love

I panicked. Not something you want to do in an East village apartment crammed with people having a 70′s -inspired good time. So I remembered something an school cohort, Marina, used to say: Pretend you’re at your desk, and then clean it up.

So help me God, it worked. I didn’t even feel like I had eaten anything, in the end. As for my friend Leighann, she said something about finding herself, baked goods as a metaphor for life, and a need to eat some Mac & Cheese.

Hope she turns up soon.

Pancake Comes to The Office

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The `Cake Comes to Work

On a quiet Friday afternoon, Miss Pancake came to the office with me. As you might imagine, no work was conducted once her little paws hit the industrial carpet of our office on 3rd Avenue. She was the object of so much attention and so many impromptu photo sessions, it was practically a coup!

She had a great time and I was very proud. But when we came home, we both passed out from the excitement.

Here she is at her 15 minute internship in the Photo Department. She is editing film.

 

My Hairy 4-Footed One Got me into Trouble with Kathie Lee!

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I was on the TODAY show yesterday with Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotbe. We were talking about sex. Yeah, just the three of us girls getting down to it on national tv.

I don’t want to say that Pancake was there with us in spirit, but we had to hold up taping my segment because they needed to de-lint my pants. The Wardrobe Mistress de-linted me everywhere – and I mean everywhere! We were practically on a date with what she was doing!

While KLG and HK were looking on, she said to me, “Do you have a dog?”

Yes! I answered proudly.

It was only later I realized it was because my shed-free Pancake had, in fact, shedded on me.

But was I mad at my Cakey? No. Never!

Here’s how it went, if you want to see.

http://klgh.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/02/10561851-who-knows-more-about-you-know-what-klg-or-hoda

 

Jeanne: On Vacation at Hackensack Hospital

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Only our dear mother could get hospital-grade diarheaa from drinking Coke.

I am not sure exactly what it all means quite yet, but it seems that Jeanne decided to quell a nervous stomach by sucking down a liter of generic Coke that wreaked such havoc on her system that she had blood in her stool and had to go to the ER.

I hysterically ran out to see her….only to discover that she is having a grand old time in the hospital. She’s downright chatty with the nurses (like the wonderful Brenna, seen here).

Jeanne's New Bestie

A volunteer handed Jeanne a little beauty package comprised of a comb that I am quite sure used to belong to Willy Loman, toothpaste, toothbrush, and some body lotion. She kvelled over this stuff like it was La Mer and took off with her “pole” in tow to the ladies’ so she could freshen up before her endoscopy.

Here’s how she looked, giddy with excitement before they dropped a camera down her throat:

She's gonna kill me for posting this, but do you notice that she posed for this photo?

Meanwhile, Bob is at home pretty much refusing to eat until his Princess Bride returns. But honestly, I don’t think Jeanne is in that much of a rush. She heard there’s a Tequila Night this Thursday that she’s fixin’ to attend. Stay tuned.