We Interrupt These Pittsburgh Lessons for an Important Announcement

OH.
Mi.
Gawd.

My flight was five (5) hours late last night.

But that's not the worst part.

Wait for it.

Seriously.

Still there?

I ran out of knitting!!!

[Cue scary music]

I brought two knitting projects with me. I also brought about eight hours worth of work, and two magazines. I even bought a book in Pittsburgh. But, I didn't plan on being finished with fixing the computer on Day 2.

I powered through the first knitting project and the first five hours of worth of work without blinking. Then on Day 3 I couldn't sleep so I started and finished the book. And our flight to PIT was late so I finished the magazines before I got on board. But, but, I still had the booties and the 100 page contract. I was good. That's seven hours right there...easy. I didn't panic when they announced would be late. I continued to keep mom calm as they would tell us we would be delayed, two, three, and then four hours. Remember, we're going home. They need this plane in L.A. They won't cancel. Its fine.

I was smug. I took a walk around the mall at the airport...tried on a few pairs of Gap jeans and wandered through the sale at Victoria's Secret. I ate the dinner I bought before we left my grandfather's. I was fine. I knew I had enough to keep me busy and I was content in that knowledge.

After my walk I started with the contract. I fell asleep twice trying to read this thing earlier in the day so I thought I was good. Read. Sleep. Read. Sleep. Perfect! Not so much. Compared to the five hour delay, that contract was gold...interesting....I was taking notes, getting ready to discuss on Monday. And after finishing it, I even found an amended complaint I forgot that I had with me. 145 pages of fun! That'll take hours! As I came to the last pages, they announced boarding. Awesome, home free.

We boarded the plane and sat down. There was a mom with two five year old girls and a small puppy, unable to get seats together. My mom loves the window seat so she happily agreed to trade with the mom. (Mom makes me sit in the middle seat...I know, a good excuse for elder abuse later on.) The only thing worse to me than being in a middle seat is being in a middle seat without being able to get out of that seat easily. Sigh. Fine. Everything is fine. I walked around before the plane was fully boarded, stretched my legs and sat down as the last people wrestled with their lugged. As a reward for that middle seat, the booties.

Woo! Finishing gifts months before they're due. I rock. I'm awesome. The captain gets on the P.A. and announces that we can't finish loading or fueling the plane because of thunder and lightening. That's ok. We're on the plane...another 30 minutes and we're on our way.

30 minutes.

60 minutes.

Everything is fine.

Until the primary color of the booties started to run out.

It was horrible...like something out of a bad dream...the end of the hopalong cassidy yarn...the yarn needed for the majority of the Ugg booties...the best travel project ever...or so I thought.

As I sat there, mid-panic, watching my skein wind down, I looked over at the very cute, very chic girl in the aisle seat to my right. She had on her Seven jeans (actually hemmed to an appropriate length), silver gladiator sandals, white long-sleeve tshirt, scarf and her Marc by Marc Jacobs white leather handbag and Longtemps carry-on. She quietly read her two magazines.

I was sitting there in pink wrinkled J.Crew capris, now-dirty white sweater, old Vans with my roller bag stuffed into the overhead and my carryon crying for mercy under my seat....filled with knitting, work reading, bagels, my purse and other various items I can't remember after four hours of sleep wondering why I can't be the chic traveler. The one who looks cute and put together even after a five hour delay, not the one who looks like she hasn't washed her hair 'cause the water pressure at her grandfather's wouldn't wash a small spider down the drain let alone a full head of hair.

I always want to be that cute traveller. I want to be amused by two magazines and an ipod. But I can't. I guess its the price I have to pay for having this HUGE brain. Huge brains demand large quantities of yarn. Next time, I'm bringing a bigger carryone.

Things I learned while in Pittsburgh - Lesson One

Lesson One: Always carry food with you.

I learned this lesson several years ago when Elizabeth was in town. I went to her father's house to pick her up for dinner only to be met with the news that we had to wait at least an hour since she was finishing up something for work. I was so hungry I was about to eat my head.

Elizabeth: "Have some chocolate."

Jenna: "How much can I have?"

E:"Whatever's there. I'm done with it."

Unexpectedly, Elizabeth's sister walks in about 15 minutes later. Elizabeth's sister lives in Silverlake so I really didn't expect her in Brentwood. Neither did Elizabeth.

Barbara:"Where's the chocolate?"

Elizabeth: "On the table."

Barbara: "There's nothing there but an empty box."

Jenna: "I ate it."

Barbara: "All of it?!?"

Jenna: "I was hungry. Elizabeth said I could."

Elizabeth: "I did say that."

Ever since then, I've carried Nutra Grain bars on me in their little Nutra Grain case. Yes, my granola bars have their own case. Duh. How else would they keep from getting smushed in my purse. I often get made fun of that but hey, when I'm stranded with unexpected hours to wait before a meal and you're hungry and I'm not, who's laughing then pal? That and it saves me the embarrassment of eating all the chocolate. 'cause in that situation, without the Nutra Grain bar, I'd eat all the chocolate again.

But I didn't bring the bars in their handy carrying case to Pittsburgh.

Last night we went over to the "girls' house". I've talked about the girls before. My grandmother was one of six sisters. Three married (Margaret, Sue and Lil) and three didn't (Ollie, Rose and Annette). The three who didn't marry have always lived together in their house about two miles from here. So, we went to see the girls, something we do on every trip to Pittsburgh.

Usually they make and elaborate dinner but, thankfully, they were waiting for my mom's cousin Curly (who goes by E.J. in his non-family life, but whose real name is Earl) to get to town. But, since he was driving from North Carolina, he was running late and wouldn't be here until tomorrow.

In our ongoing plot to keep my grandfather from cooking, we picked up a ready-to-cook pizza from Labriola's yesterday. He likes pizza and we figured it would be better than the usual $1.29 special he sometimes finds at Giant Eagle. Mom's morally opposed to pre-packed food with all the preservatives so we try our best to side-step the issue while we're here. (I won't even get into the Lipton Noodle Debate of 2006. It wasn't pretty; there were injuries and we don't speak of it anymore.) We were just so proud of our idea and even more so when we had dinner to bring to the girls. (It was a really big pizza.) Heroes we were!

We walk in and give the pizza to Rose, the chef of the family with the instructions: 12 minutes at 400. Now, this has been Rose's kitchen for 60 years. You don't mess with her kitchen. You don't cook in her kitchen. You don't clean in her kitchen. You don't fetch drinks in her kitchen. Its hers. That's the way its always been and the way it always will be.

Ten minutes later I hear the following:

Rose: "Dinner's ready."

Mom: "Uhm, Aunt Rose. The pizza is still cold and the oven is only on 300 I think it needs to cook more."

Rose: "Dinner's ready."

Mom: "Uhm, really, Aunt Rose, I don't think its done. The pizza is cold and the cheese isn't even melted."

I'll let you guess who won that fight.

I was so hungry I ate a piece of the uncooked pizza. (For the record, two of the six people at dinner felt the pizza was cooked while the remaining four wanted it to cook more. The fact that two of the four felt it was fine just goes to strengthen mom's & my resolve to cook our own food while we're in town since the others can't be trusted.)

I was so sad. That pizza had all homemade ingredients from the crust to the sauce and the cheese. Labriola's makes their own sauces and crusts and they're Italian so they understand pizza. Most of you know I won't eat pizza. Its offensive to me. What you pizza makers out there try to pass off as pizza just upsets me and its just not worth my waistline. But, here we were, in a market owned and run by Italians and they get it and its worth the calories and hey this is vacation and won't this be awesome....

I should have had a Nutra Grain bar on me. I could have snuck into the bathroom to eat it when I heard the argument start.

Lesson learned. Again.

Stay Tuned for Lesson Two: No matter the strength of the point or the evidence, you will always lose an argument with a 92 year old.

So you think you can recycle?

Heh, you've never met my grandfather. Ed Begley, Jr. leaves a bigger carbon footprint than my grandfather does.

One of my earliest memories of visiting my grandparents included dinner. Not just the eating, mind you, but the after dinner ritual. Grandma did all the cooking and Mom and I would clear, wash and dry the dishes.

After I handed mom the dishes, I grabbed whatever trash was on the table and opened the garbage can. It was one of those circular cans with the foot petal. I'd step on the petal and the lid would raise. Magic! But, there wasn't a liner inside like at home. There were three milk cartons, the cardboard ones, completely open at the top.

"Uhm, mom, what do I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are three milk cartons. Which one do I put the trash into?"

"Just leave the trash on the table for grandpap."

"Really?"

At 4 I learned that my grandfather had his system, which he still employs today. I didn't know it at the time, but he was composting. He'd divide the waste into different categories and use it for various purposes. While everyone else in the neighborhood would put out two and three cans of trash, my grandfather would put out about a third of one can for his house. Nothing went to waste, everything was reused. The compost went into the garden for his tomato plants 'cause when you're Italian and retired, you grow tomatoes. Its mandatory or else they take the Italian away from you.

Well, fast-forward 30 years and this 92 year old won't grow tomatoes anymore, but he still puts out less trash in a year than most people do in a week. He reuses not just the plastic tray from a tv dinner, but stores them in their original box.

He uses two liter pop bottles as planters. The plants? He cut a piece off of tree from our house when we lived on Sunset Blvd. about 30 years ago. He lost his first cutting (it died when he left it outside and it was too cold) but he's worked that first plant he cultivated into about 8 smaller siblings around the house.

When he prints, he won't use the ream of paper mom bought him a few years ago. He uses the backs of pages that are either blank or almost blank. He'll use the back of bank statements, fliers that come in the mail, anything that he has a just a bit of usable space. For awhile there, he was cutting paper in half so he would only use half of the side without printing so the paper would go further. That tray on the printer doesn't work anymore. He has to feed all the paper through the manual feed at the top. And the thought of allowing us to buy him a new printer? Wouldn't even hear of it.

We got into a bit of a row because he asked us to pick up ink for him at Giant Eagle. There, they charge $6 for the off-brand ink. We went, as instructed, but they're out of the specific ink he needed. Lucky for us, or so we thought, it was on sale at Target for $9 and we picked it up. He was not happy with us. Now, keep in mind, he has no magenta for his printer. He'd rather print pictures that come out green (I've seen them, they're not pretty) than have us spend the extra $3 on ink. I told him mom & I both have jobs, we can afford it. He shrugged and walked away.

And lest you think this is a mandatory sort of thing, it isn't. The house is paid, his heating and cooling bills are low, he hasn't bought a car in probably 30 years and the only time he goes to the doctor is when its mandated by the state for his driver's license. He just won't waste anything.

This is a man who watched the depression from the front steps of his house, laid off from his work as a mechanic. He's so against any sort of waste the my mom and I have to sneak a bag of trash out of the house everyday. Seriously.

Mom bought the smallest package of butter you've ever seen to bake. (My grandfather only uses "spread"...no butter to be found in this house.) She made a cake for him today and when he asked about the glaze (he really liked it!), she confessed the butter purchase to him.

"But I have margarine."

"Dad, margarine doesn't work for baking. It separates and doesn't cook correctly."

"But I have it here. I bet it would work. You should use that."

"Dad, I swear, it won't work. They tell you not to use margarine for baking."

"Well, I have it and you should have used it."

Telling him that we froze the butter to use next year was of little solace to him. He was still opposed to the purchase. Yeah, I didn't tell him about my new pants, like mom told him about hers. I know better. That's why he likes me more.

Greetings from Pittsburgh

As I'm sure Steve will be pleased to hear, I've been able to get my grandfather's PC up and running without re-installing messenger and tapping the aforementioned Steve online and asking him for various solutions to problems only a 92 year old with a PC can cause.

Yeah me!
Yeah Geek Squad!

Yes, despite my feelings about the big blue empire, I have to say the Monroeville Geek Squad are by far the nicest BBY employees I've ever met. Not only did they answer my questions but they offered to install whatever RAM I bought into this 6 year old machine and trouble shoot any addition problems. I heart them. If you're ever in Monroeville, I highly suggest this Best Buy.

Are you enthralled yet? Can you just not stop reading in case you miss something else equally interesting? Yup, such is my time in Pittsburgh. I sit in front of a PC for hours and hours troubleshooting viruses and misplaced settings in an effort to get the computer up and running again.

But, we're up which means we can leave the house for shopping! I know you're wondering what a label snob like me could possibly find in suburban Pittsburgh. Well, let me tell you there is quite a bit to find, and always far below retail!

For the Frugal:
Dollar Tree kicks the 99 Cent Store's booty. I would tell you the swag I scored but that would ruin Christmas.

Target:
Oh, the deals to be had! No one does markdowns like the kids in Monroeville. I got a pair of metallic Converse One-Star pants for $8.36. And, since there's no sales tax here on clothing, the pants really were $8.36. But, I did have to talk gramma out of buying me the ugliest thought of a bridesmaid dress for Elizabeth's wedding. It was sorta cute on the hanger but on me...yeah, not so much. I didn't care if it was $10 it didn't make it any cuter. I was able to distract her with the thought of stealing a dress I picked out for her years ago that she wore for a wedding. She was overwhelmed by the thought of getting that out of her closet; when I saw she was weak I put the ugly $10 dress away.

For the Fashionable:
We have Kohl's (and no for the non-west L.A. readers, we don't have that at home). I was able to see and cry at the Vera Wang for Kohl's collection. Woof. But mom did score $5 Talbot's pants at the Talbot's outlet. My grandfather didn't think it was possible to buy pants for $5 that originally retailed for $68. (Yes, dear readers, its true, he doesn't spend much time with us.) He declared shenanigans on the whole thing, shock his head and walked away. He doesn't appreciate our shopping brilliance. That's why we usually hide all of our treasures. Mom showed him in a moment of weakness. It won't happen again.

For the hungry:

Labriola's is a second generation "Italian store" as my family calls it. Its a small grocery that specializes in Italian foods. If you're a foodie, doesn't matter if your a cook, but if you're a foodie, your head will explode. If you're a cook, your head and your heart will explode simultaneously. Its not pretty. Anything Italian you've seen on a cooking show from these special canned tomatoes mom kept muttering about to beautiful imported pasta...and everything was really well priced. And, and, they had all this super cheap ready-made food...like a HUGE pizza with all homemade ingredients for $6.50. They had biscotti and cream puffs and stuffed shells and ravioli...all homemade and ready for you to take credit for. They had a huge deli counter and fresh cheese and eggs and really I just ate two pizelles as I typed this 'cause I was making myself hungry. (The things I do for the blogsphere!)

So yeah, I'll leave you with that. But, I will ask you to stay tuned. Why, you ask? Well, I reply...all of you people who think you're all frugal and earth-friendly and all of that? Dude, meet my grandfather. He can recycle anything, including 25 year old Stoffers containers AND boxes.

I know, you're hoping tomorrow comes sooner so you can read about him.

I think the universe is trying to tell me something

Yippee! I have another respiratory infection! Woohoo!

Oddly, not being able to breathe and hacking up a rainbow of colors isn't upsetting me like it usually does. I carry my meds in a fabulous lime green cosmetics case, drink tea like a grown up and whine like a child so mom makes me soup. (She did, BTW, orzo, spinach, chicken and carrott...mmmm.) Maybe its not upsetting me 'cause right now I'm surrounded by people with real problems and they have, like, the world's greatest attitudes about it.

• Frank is evicting non-Hodgkin's lymphoma from his body and is perkier in his posts that I am after four Diet Cokes.
• I have another friend who just had surgery for breast cancer on Friday, and is facing another surgery 'cause they found more cancer and she's all excited about starting a blog. (No blog yet, or else I'd link to her.)
• Then, one of my best friends lost her dog, seriously, one of the coolest dogs ever, and wrote the sweetest tribute to him.
• Regina spent her weekend at the hospital 'cause her kid had an appendectomy, which the symptoms of course started at 3am 'cause nothing can go wrong during, I don't know, business hours.

And yet all of these people are either learning from their experiences, have some sort of f-you- world,-I'm-going-to-kick-whatever-is- going-on-right-now's-a$$ attitude or they're just being all positive about it.

So yeah, respiratory infection...second one this year? Whatever...that's kids stuff.

Then & Now

You know the saying, you can never go home? For any of you that know me, you know I can't exactly say that. I mean, I live at home. But, to me, that saying more applies to when you leave somewhere, like a job or a relationship, there really isn't any going back. I just had a very stark reminder of that today.

As some of you may know, I've been a part of the Brentwood School community since I was born. My first yearbook picture was taken at age 2. (By the way, how cute is my mom in these pictures.)

I remember when the school was just a converted military academy, before "baby Brentwood", when classes were held in trailers because the lower school was being built. Back in the day they'd rent the campus for productions. Once a production was going and the actresses went topless and played volleyball for the cameras. That production was stopped real quick. On the weekends they rent out the campus and the teachers would come to their classrooms and find mattresses. There are a thousand stories.

I derived much of my identity as a teacher's kid...in both the good and the bad that came with that designation. I was always in the thick of what was going on at the school but at the same time laughed at for being one of the poor kids, unable to afford the clothes and random stuff that goes with attending a private school.

Yeah, my senior year ID. I'm not wearing my glasses but I am wearing make-up, something you'd only see on book day. But, as you can't exactly see, I'm wearing my prize possession at the time...the only item I bought that last summer working at Fred Segal, my Koobai gray eyelet bodysuit. Yes, all the ladies who lived through 1992 remember the bodysuits. And, at that time, it was the only designer item I owned. I was so fabulous in it I could hardly stand myself and helped to start an addiction I still proudly support today.

Its been 16 years since I graduated that campus, and I still get mixed emotions going there. Today, there was nothing mixed. It was an all-alumni BBQ but mom & I were there to support a friend of hers, the Dean of Students, the heart of Brentwood.

I've moved on from Brentwood. Sure, today I wore the Dolce & Gabana capris, the Miu Miu shoes, the Betsy Johnson purse... I'm still the fashion-obsessed kid I was 16 years ago. But, now I'm making a bit more than the $2,000 I'd clear every summer from Fred Segal so I can feed the beast easier.

But, at the same time, I'm more comfortable having a friend shoot me paparazi style at a birthday picnic.

I like home where it is now. I like who I am now. I couldn't say that in high school. Its nice to say that now.

SATC

'cause there aren't enough reviews of this movie yet.

You know, I don't think the right reviews of the movie are out there, so I'll present you with two.

One: Sex & the City = Fashion Porn

Two: Sex & the City is a good chick flick.

The whole if-its-going-to-be-the-length-of-five-episodes-it-should-have-done-more doesn't really fly with me. They basically covered in one movie what an entire season of SATC would have covered. And I thought that was pretty cool. Each of the characters had their own issues and demons to deal with and in the end there was a resolution. And some amazing clothes.

Granted, this is not a guy movie. I would no more take Todd to see this than I would take my father. This just isn't a movie for them and they'd be asleep in the first 15 minutes. Though, there is quite a bit of sex in the move...I mean, it is in the title. So, for any of you guys out there whose girlfriends/wives missed the boat on the girlfriend's day at the movies and they drag you. There's quite of bit of nudity and sex...even a threesome...though each only lasts a few seconds, its very much there. So, there's that.

But, other than that, it was SATC for all the reasons we love and hate the show. The women are thinner and more fashionable than you are. Unless of course you have the time to work out three hours a day and have Patricia Field to dress you. And, they all have fabulous husbands/boyfriends that are richer or funnier or more supportive than anyone on this earth. Then again, none of us date Michael Patrick King. He could write our love lives and that might solve that problem.

Hell, between Patricia Field and Michael Patrick King, I think all of our problems could be solved.

Why Brick & Mortar isn't doing too well

Ok, yes, I understand the economy is in the tank. I understand we're in a recession but not in a recession. Gas prices are sky high and food prices are increasing daily. I get that. But, with four (4) days of unintentional research, I can tell you why brick & mortar stores aren't doing well:

One word: Attitude

Example 1: Sunday, I found the cutest shirt EVER. EVER. Seriously. This might help solve at least one crisis in the middle east. Turns out, I know the store owner who was selling the aformentioned shirt. (And by know I mean I know who she is and she knows me as someone who is always happy to spend money in her store.)

Me: Do you have this in my size?

Her: I only have what's out there.

She didn't get up from her chair or look herself 'cause usually clients are stupid and can't see what's in front of them. She didn't care that I couldn't find the overpriced shirt and she didn't even try to show me something equally as cute and overpriced. She even knows me & Todd 'cause we always buy the same line (*cough* Hello Kitty *cough*) and didn't even attempt to mention or show us oh, I don't know, the 3 racks of new stuff she had. She just sort of hung out in her chair.

So yeah, I went home did a few searches on the google and ordered the shirt online. Five magical days later I had the shirt.

Example 2: Monday I wandered into J.Crew on my lunch hour and started trying things on.

Me: Hey, I was in here 2 weeks ago and you had these awesome denim capris but I was helping a friend shop for a business trip so I didn't feel I could try them on. Could you help me find them?

Saleslady: Yeah, we don't have them any more. Why don't you try these on and then I'll order you the size from the catalog.

Me: Uhm, those are a completely different fabric, size, style and fit.

At this point I'm still talking but she's looking at me like I'm speaking Japanese...not that Japanese isn't a lovely language, just a language the saleslady doesn't speak. So yeah, I walked out.

Example 3: Tuesday I ran out to the pet store to get Advantage for the kids. Not only was it almost twice the price as buying it online, which I was willing to pay to get it immediately, but the line at the register was four deep with no other sales staff in sight (and this isn't a small store) to help and the chick ringing wasn't exactly speedy or even trying to be speedy.

Yeah, walked out, went to the dry cleaner and then ordered it online. Two days later, with free shipping (!), I had the Advantage and tortured the dogs with it.


Example 4: Wednesday I went to Bath & Body Works as they one of the only stores to carry my nail polish. I stood at the wall o' nail polish and they didn't have ONE SINGLE THING I needed. They didn't have the color my mom has worn for YEARS or any of the new stuff from either spring or summer or even the new top coat. So I walked out, came back to work and, all together now....ordered it online. Two weeks later, poof, like magic, I have three polishes, one for mom, two for me and a new topcoat to try out.

Here I am, breaking all the current spending trends by buying stuff I don't necessarily need, but definately want and no one is helping me. And I've worked retail...for years I worked retail. I've worked at Express, Bloomingdale's, Fred Segal, Frette...I've done $9 shirts and $150 jeans and the jeans were $150 15 years ago. So, I'm not very patient with the excuse that people who work retail don't make much...I know that...I had that paycheck for almost 10 years and yet I still helped people because that was my job.


So, when I'm watching or reading the news and all the retailers are complaining that sales are down and woe is me and blah, blah, blah...here's an idea, how about you help the people who are in your stores. Maybe you could start there 'cause until you're nice to the people spending their money on your merchandise, I'm not going too feel too sorry for you.

Happy Birthday Dick

No, really, it is Dick's birthday. Its tough to imagine that we've only had him for a little over three years. And yet, in those three years he's really changed. I know that might sound silly but for anyone who has rescued or adopted a dog that wasn't a puppy, you know what I mean.

As the years roll on their personality emerges. We didn't have this phenomenon when we adopted Hanna or Jane as they pretty much came out of their shells within a few weeks of moving into Chez Radomile. But, not Dick. Our shy loving little boy has earned his baddog#2 badge with great honor.

Dick version 2.0:

• He loves all people, large and small. He digs kids and babies and they get away with far more with him than I ever could.
• He's very conversational on walks as he feels the need to bark at every dog that we pass. Of course his tail is wagging, but that really isn't the point. He just needs to let them know he's there.
• He has learned how to counter surf. (Thanks, Jane.) So when something goes missing, we can no longer just blame Jane. We have two baddogs to contend with.
• He's really well-behaved at parties at the house. I mean, his head is at table level and yet no food disappears. But, if you're not a dog person, watch out. Jane has taught him the all-important guest lean whereas they both lean on the one guest that doesn't care for canine company.
• He loves to go for walks. When its time for his walk, he will push you towards his leash. If you're not careful, he'll push you down the stairs. However, I've taught him the all-important "go" command where he and Jane run full-speed down the stairs ahead of me. Sadly, I can't teach this to gramma and every morning I hear her outside my room telling him to stop pushing her as they walk down the stairs.
• He's become quite the digger. He can do both one paw and two paw digs, depending on the digging situation...quite the talent, let me tell you. Though, thankfully, he now likes to dig the hole and fill it back in.
• He's afraid of large treats he's never seen before. Seriously. Jane is happy to "help" him with the treats and show him how they are to be dealt with. I'm guessing the bully stick I left him is still in his food dish. Unless of course Jane figured out a way to move hers and his. She's crafty. She just might have.
• He likes A/C but hates fans. Even if its 100 degrees in my bedroom, he'll leave if I turn on the fan.
• He likes to "finish" Jane's breakfast, though, truth be told, Jane can move him out of his own food dish as well and he just lets her. Thankfully, no food agression has emerged.
• He's gone from a skinny ex-racer to a phatty chowhound who sticks by your side whenever you're in the kitchen, hoping for a tasty morsel to fall into his range. (We can thank grandma for this. She "drops" quite a bit.)
• And, lastly, he enjoys playing dress up. Jane would rather poke her own eyes out than have us put clothes on her. But, Dick just loves it. Maybe he's reminded of his racing silks.

Happy Birthday Dick!

Happy Birthday Gramma!

Yes, today is my mom's birthday. It is also my friend Nina's birthday and Regina's wedding anniversary. Its a big day.

For Nina, I left voicemail; for Regina I shouted Happy Anniversary as she walked into her office and for mom, we went to the Peninsula last night for dinner. I have three words for you to sum up our dinner, the new chef and the new menu: Tofu Tasting Menu.

Seriously.

Tofu.
Tasting.
Menu.

Dude, I understand you're trying to capture a younger crowd. I get that. And you should. When my mom and her best friend are younger than everyone else in the room (except me) by 30 years, you've got an old crowd. But, tofu tasting? Yeah, not so much.

I had the scallops, mom had the salmon and Eleanor had...what did she have...some small bird off the side dish section of the menu. And, don't get me wrong, it was all quite tasty and the portions were perfect. But, here was the conversation over our desert to sort of help you with the tone of the food for dinner:

Waiter: How do you like your desert?
Eleanor: Its different. I've never had a carrot cake like this before.
Waiter: Its organic.
Eleanor: Oh.

When we ordered the cake, it said organic carrot cake. When the cake came, it was a very different consistency than other carrot cakes. I liked it, mom didn't and Eleanor was sort of lukewarm. But, here's the thing. I understand the importance of organic but really, "organic" is not impacting my cake. The recipe and the time it cooked impacted the cake...not that the carrots were grown by a loving farmer that read poetry to his crops every day. I know what goes into a carrot cake and if mom used all organic ingredients in her cake, it would not taste like that did. It would be carrot cake and it would rock you. It wouldn't be a carrot cake with an odd consistency.

I'm just sayin.

Happy Birthday Mom!!