So whazzup?? I'll Tell Ya...

Here's the thing about me. When things are going well, I'm all in. I'm a good friend, I keep up...I return calls. When the world turns to what can only be considered my personal shit (perspective people....I don't live in Africa)...I'm quiet.

It's not total shit...it just isn't fun right now. Problems with the ex...problems with my living situation..just stuff I prefer to ignore. Except I can't when I have this forum in which to express myself. So I avoid that too.

I miss my cyber-friends...and the ones who became real friends. Yes that's you I'm talking to. I hope you are all 'ok'....cuz as far as I'm concerned 'ok' is good these days.

I love my job. I HAVE a job. I have a good job. I got splashed with 'holy water' five times by the Archbishop of Florida today. That's a long story..but a true one. He had a Little Bow Peep staff with him...it looked a little strange to me, the former Presbyterian (I think), converted and sort of lapsed Jew. He was sporting a gold medallion that surely is worth more than my IRA. I wonder if my body made steam when it made contact.

We had a hospice patient in our unit today that got to me. She is an 82 year old woman who's daughter lives 15 min away but has MS so can't drive to come see her. So, she sits there all day ALONE. Dying from colon cancer. Alone. The holy water throwing Archbishop came and threw some on her today...only it made her happy. Like she was me and had a celebrity sighting happy. She ate her lunch..for the first time all week. She sat up in bed..straight up...for the first time in weeks. They are moving her to a nursing home and she asked me to visit her. Because nobody visits her. Wow...perspective.

Sorry for the bummer of a post. I love hospice...I love it for a lot of reasons but mostly because it makes me feel good about my life. It makes me want to make a difference while I'm here. It reminds me to let the people I know how much I love them. They might need me one day...as the only person sitting by their side in a hospice unit....and more selfishly..I just might....and probably will, need them.

Oh How I've Missed You...I HAD to Comment on this NUTJOB

Yep, I've been busy with the new job. REALLY busy. I USED to blog in the morning...in my jammies, between the time I dropped off the kids at school and my work day started. My 'work day' meaning I worked from home and usually showered at noon on the days I didn't have to travel. Which was most of the time. Only now, I leave my house at 7 a.m. Every day. Brutal for someone who doesn't like to go to sleep until 1 a.m. That changed REALLY fast - dare I say it caught up with me on about day 3?

I've crawled out of my blogging hole because I got evicted. Ok, not technically evicted, but something like that.


Some of you might remember my imaginary letter to my neighbor above me. Needless to say, things haven't improved at all, but like all good snipers - she caught me off guard the other day. I got a call while I was at work that I had a letter at the front desk. They were kind enough to give it to Dilma at some point during the day so it was waiting for me when I got home. This 'letter' was actually a PILE of complaint letters, NOT written by my crazy upstairs neighbor, these were written by the couple who lives next door to me. "Next door" meaning the residence that is separated from my walls by the elevators - but who's paying atttention to those things?

The best part of this pile of letters was the one on top...the letter, signed by the upstairs neighbor (Chairman of the Board), SAYING I was evicted and have SEVEN DAYS to get out. The funny part is that condo boards CAN'T evict you - only landlords can. And that process takes about 90 days - what with all of these forclosures in Miami clogging up the court system and all. So, they were just trying to scare me..or more accurately, harass me. Ok, that's not WHY I'm moving, actually the 'eviction' happened after I'd already decided to move. As much as I love living on the ocean, the novelty of highrise living wore off after the first few months. How many times can you forget something in your condo and have to go up 18 floors to get it? Not to mention the front door locks behind you when you close it..I'll let your imagination run wild with how inconvenient THAT can be with three kids. And then, there were the condo Nazis.


I've only run into these neighbors a handful of times - and I haven't seen them at all since they returned from their second home in Michigan. They are snowbirds - but unlike most snowbirds they are fairly youngish...my age I think..which is rare in this building. We smile at each other in passing but other than that we haven't had any contact. Which is why I FREAKED when I read what they had to say. There were 15 letters of complaint - FIFTEEN. All written between Dec and Jan....MOST written when I was out of town or I was at Marcs because the kids weren't here. Here is just a sampling of their complaints:

1. "She threw a ball against the wall to annoy us until 4 a.m." (this supposedly took place on the Sunday night before I started my new job....AND I was at Marc's house)

2. "She lives like a street person I can smell her condo from the hallway" (and here I thought I was a good cook - this one was dated one of the days I was camping with the kids)

3. "She left her five year old in the 'Jazzuzzi' (aka Jacuzzi...they are crappy spellers) for 2 hours" (I learned early on that if any of my kids got near that thing security would be there in a minute - they have cameras everywhere just looking for infractions and I don't like to get in trouble)

4. "She leaves her garbage on the floor in front of her condo and in the garbage 'shoot' area" (Actually, I got accused of leaving my garbage in the CHUTE area right after I moved in...knowing I had done no such thing, the next time I saw garbage in there I looked through it. Guess who's address was on the mail in that bag? THEIRS)

5. Letter after letter about all of the noise I make. The 'music' I play (at 6 am on a Saturday that I wasn't home in one case), the noise my kids make (dated when they weren't here - they were with Joey)...you get the idea.

After the first few months I lived here, I started documenting the complaint phone calls (all from upstairs lady I thought). Out of 77 calls, I WAS NOT EVEN HOME FOR 57 of them!!! Clear harassment I think. It got to the point that the security guards didn't bother coming up to knock on my door when they got calls because odds were I wasn't there anyway. I thought it was funny but in hindsight I'm happy I thought to document.

So, while I planned to move at the end of Feb..(check out the new pad - http://www.lotosonline.com/ ) - who can get themselves moved in SEVEN DAYS? And of course, I'm just pissed at the nerve of these people..EVICTING ME without so much as even speaking to me. My neighbor on the other side, who apparently heard about this through the building grapevine put a letter under my door yesterday refuting every claim and telling the board that not only does she not hear or smell me, nobody ever asked her OR the lady who lives DOWNSTAIRS from me about me before sending it. It's some sort of conspiracy she thinks...only the motivation is unclear.

It all brings me back to middle school. Like the time my friends all decided they didnt like me and I was booted out of our group...for no reason. Actually I think the reason was that they didn't like my haircut.

So I'm going to move alright. But I'm not going down without a fight. I have a real problem with injustice...and this is just wrong.

Happy Birthday Birdie (Hayden)

It's official - I'm the mother of a pre-teen. To tell you the truth, I've felt like she has fit into that category since she was, oh, I don't know, TWO? But now that she REALLY is a pre-teen, I'll be frank - I'm scared shitless that she is going to run me over with her mouth and run me over again with the attitude that goes along with that mouth.

The thing about Hayden is that everybody, from the ages of 2 to 92 adores her and consistently comment on what a 'good girl' she is. And she is - a good girl to just about everyone except those of us who know her well. WE get to enjoy a great deal of eye rolling, the use of the word 'whatever' in lieu of a 'thank you' at times, and sometimes out and out rude behavior beyond comprehension. She also happens to be over 5 feet tall, and 105 lbs - meaning my days of having an iota of a physically threatening presence are way over. Not that I use force with my kids but I'd like them to know there is a SLIGHT possibility it will happen if they are really rotten. The last time I tried to do that with her I got a big fat, 'whatever mom'. Uh-oh.

Like my other two kids on their birthdays (click HERE to read about Hudson, and HERE for Evan), I'm going to tell you a little about how my first baby came to be....

Somewhere around the age of 27, after 2 years of marriage, we decided it was baby time. You know, because there is some rule out there that says you have to, or so I thought at the time. So I got pregnant - first try if my memory serves me correctly. Her due date was February 15th.

I was sitting at work one day, 27 weeks pregnant, when I kept feeling what I had read in my many many pregnancy handbooks were contractions. When they started coming regularly, I called my doctor's office who assured me they were just braxton hicks (aka fake) and that I shouldn't worry unless I had more than 4 an hour. 'Well m'am, I'm having about 10 an hour, do you think I should come in?' - 'Uh, yes, and hurry while you are at it'. So I did.

A few hours of being monitored proved my contraction theory right - 9-12 an hour. A few shots of Brethine slowed them down a little and after a few days I found myself home, on bedrest, with a Brethine pump in my leg to deliver the medication, where I was to remain until I was 36 weeks pregnant. Do the math people - that meant NINE weeks of bedrest.

Because I was sitting flat on my ass, and I had already gone overboard in the eating department, this bedrest resulted in me gaining more or less 60 pounds. I'm not quite sure what that meant the total was, because I refused to look after I saw the scale tip at 174 pounds, but since that was 4 weeks prior to giving birth I'm thinking it must have been in the 190 area - meaning I actually gained 70 pounds or so. Not pretty.

At 36 weeks, I went to my BIG appointment - the one where the Dr. was going to take the pump out of my leg and I was free to have my baby. We left the office and within a few hours it was clear I was back in full blown labor...guess that pump thing really worked. Only we were in the middle of a renovation project so we had to stop by the plumbing supply store on our way to the hospital. Nobody got too worked up like they did when I was en route to the hospital with Evan and got a Ruben from Wolfies to tide me over. Maybe if I had eaten a fawcett or something it would have been another story.

So, we arrived at the hospital. First order of the day - ENEMA. This was my very first enema too. So, the nurse gets me all hooked up, fills me with water, and the next thing I know the water she just pumped me full of, is now coming back out of me. Ahh....now I get this whole enema thing. I finished and got back in bed with that kick ass feeling you have after emptying your bowells. Wait, what was going on? All of a sudden I had the strongest urge to use the bathroom, crazy I'm not going to make it to the toilet strong. I made it but what happened next scarred me for life. No, I wasn't DONE after the enema..that was only the beginning. I had no doubt that the clearing of my remaining bowell was actually the baby coming out -it was NOT a comfortable experience.

We had a few freinds with us at the hospital, all of whom were watching some sporting event. As my contractions grew in frequency and intensity, I was wishing there were NO people in the room. By the grace of god, my OB noticed it was getting to be a bit much when I said under my breath to him....'get these fucking people out of my room'. He, translated that into - 'OK PARTY'S OVER'...and everyone was kicked the f out. Thank God.

So, I got my epidural, and little did I know at the time that it would be the one and only epidural I have ever received successfully. A few pushes and she was out - all 6lbs 8 oz of her. Not bad for almost 4 weeks early.

She was healthy all things considered and got to come home with us after spending one night...I didn't know at the time but it was an experience with a newborn I would never have again. We marveled at her while she ate slept and pooped. Kathy made a trip down from Greenville to meet us our first night home - thank GOD she did because we didn't know nothin' about dat der baby. We even made a trip back to the hospital because she looked like a banana but we were assured a little jaundice was somewhat normal. That was followed by a series of visiting grandparents and when it was all said and done? We were ready to take care of this baby on our own. Maybe. Some days I'm still not so sure I'm prepared.

Happy 11th Birthday Hayden Samantha Feinberg - I LOVE YOU!

So Much To Tell You - But I don't Have Enough Time!

Gotta make this a short one. Where have I been a few of you have asked - that would be among the working stiffs of the world. Not working remotely - from home - as I have been for years with the regular business trip thrown in. I accepted a new job and it's all office all the time. You are reading the works of:

Meredith Feinberg
Director of Marketing and Admissions for Catholic Hospice.

I had my second day yesterday....it's a bitch to get myself dressed and ready and my kids dressed and ready and out the door by 7 am. Hoping something magically makes that possible because I've been doing some juggling.

But my first day - that's the one that's blogworthy. I didn't sleep well the night before and the orientation room we were in was HOT. Then I started to feel weird and decided to go to the bathroom - but it was much too late. As soon as I left the room I projectile vomited all over the hallway. Guess I was a little sick because I kept vomiting for the rest of the day.

The problem was that while the puke on the floor was obvious, there were no immediate witnesses. I had a brief moment where I considered my options and as it turned out finding the janitor was the one I thougt best. Only i couldn't find him. So i had to ask a lot of people to help me...and they asked why. It was only a matter of time before the whole building knew.

I really think that take the cake for the best first day on the job fuck up. Anyone else have one to share?

Back to the Questions....and Houseguests From HELL

I'm bbbbaaaaaaacccccckkkkk. Not that I went anywhere really, just home over the holidays with the kids for the most part and not much time to play on the computer. As I was trying to think of something to blog about today I got really excited when I remembered that I still have an unanswered question. So here it is.....today's question is from Ms. Picket. Ms Picket wants to know:

Is South Beach really all models and beautiful people? I mean, is it really like that all the time and if so, does that suck?

Well Ms. Picket, yes. Lots and lots of beautiful people. Beautiful people all the time. And no, it doesn't suck, but that's probably because I'm a modelesque beautiful person myself, and I fit right in. Ah, yes you read that right but I'M TOTALLY JOKING OF COURSE.

When we first moved to Miami from Atlanta, 10 years ago, I was a fish out of water. I had my Atlanta hair, aka a bob with a little wedge in the back, and I wore pantyhose regularly. I can remember going out, and asking Joey, 'does this outfit make me look like a ho'?' - only to discover that when you go out on South Beach, it is all but impossible to be wearing less than just about anyone...think shirts that are worn as dresses. See through ones.

So, yes, lots and lots of stunning lookers around these parts. And it doesn't suck because quite frankly, I feel a little sorry for them. Knowing that at some point they are going to have to find their brains - and eventually physical beauty has to be replaced by inner beauty.

On another note......My brother recently sent me an email challenging me to blog about these horrible house guests I had a few years back. When I say 'horrible', I'm being kind, I promise. Only I can't. Because I think these houseguests might read my blog from time to time - and I'm pretty sure they have NO clue what a nightmare it was. So, I'm going to take the chicken way out and tell you a story I heard from a friend yesterday about HER houseguests from hell.

My friend used to live here and now lives far far away on the other side of the country. Her youngest daughter's bff and family came for a visit over the holidays and man do they take the cake for the world's WORST houseguests. Apparently it's one of those situations where the adults are friendly because of the kids, but otherwise probably wouldn't be hanging out (hate that.) They drove in after spending some time in another state (I'm intentionally being vague about all of this just IN CASE.). Promptly upon their arrival, on a Friday night, they announced they needed to return their rental car. They were staying until Monday. Here is a list of their many houseguest faux pas.

1. They are dirty, dirty people who do not bathe their children. The exact quote was, "I can't tell you the last time that X took a bath" - problem being they actually MEANT IT. My friend had the pleasure of changing X's shoes and reported that said dirty 6 year old had BLACK toenails. Ewwww... They also have a teenage daughter who had not washed her hair for TWO weeks - and was proud of it. The entire family also has a brush your teeth once a day policy....at NIGHT no less. Meaning they all walk around with stinky breath all day.

2. They are either really poor or really cheap...or both. Regardless, if you can't afford to go on vacation, I'm thinking you shouldn't. All meals were eaten at my friend's house - and the one time they ventured out, the family wasn't willing to spend the cash so my friend's husband picked up the big fat check for the table of 10. With barely a thank you.

My friend, her daughter, X, and X's mother all went to the ballet - using free tickets my friend got for them. The performance was downtown in their city - you know, the kind of area where you have to pay to park? X's mother brought FOUR DOLLARS with her for this outing. FOUR DOLLARS. Which, of course, didn't cover even half of the parking let alone the snacks that X wanted at the show.

On their last night in town, the visiting family decided that they wanted to go out for ice cream. After three days of mooching off my friend you would think they would treat HER kids - of course they didn't.

Remember the part about the rental car return on the day they arrived? Well, that meant that they had to take both of my friend's cars to get the group around. They ventured to another area of the state, a good three hour drive, and these people watched my friend's husband pay to fill up both cars, without so much as an offer to pay for the gas for the car they were driving.

It gets better....

My friend and her husband both had to work on the day the family was departing. Since they returned their rental car and had no way to get to the airport, my friend got in touch with SuperShuttle and let the family know that it was going to be $55 - TOTAL. X's mother told my friend she would talk to her husband, but she didn't think he would do it. Uh, ok people, didn't they just tell you they had to WORK? My friend offered the only other option she could think of which was to drop them off on her way to work at 8 am - their flight was at 4. Apparently the visiting family thought this was a GREAT solution - spend an extra 6 hours at the airport to save $55.

So, why don't you tell me about YOUR houseguests from hell. Surely with the holidays SOMEONE has something funny, or annoying to share. I'm thinking there are probably so many stories we could put a book together...but for now, why don't ya comment and tell me all about it?

What's Up You Crazy Cartoon Characters?

Jeez, leave the blog world for a while and all sorts of craziness ensues. Ok, so not that crazy but there was some comment drama on my last post that made me giggle. "Grouchy Smurf" said I make him/her sick, but I'm thinking that was kind of a joke. "Daffy Duck" - how sweet are you to have my back, albeit anonymously. Then, "Elmer Fudd" stepped in to show some love too. I'm thinking it would be one hell of an acid trip sort of episode.

The holidays have been crazy - crazy but fun and I got to hang with the kids a lot before they went off to daddy's for 6 days. First we drove up to Stuart for the night to hang with Kristina and her family - Kristina being yet another of Joey's exs. The two of them dated throughout high school, and continued long distance for the first part of college. When Joey and I got married, much to my dismay he insisted that Kristina be invited to the wedding. She was dating Jamie, her husband, at the time, but still, it was a very strange request met with a somewhat immature response on my part. Nonetheless, they came to the wedding and she proved impossible to hate. When we moved to Miami in '98, she wanted to be my friend. We had moved to the neighborhood where Joey grew up - definitely tough for me since he already HAD friends, so I went with it. To this day she remains one of my closest and most loyal friends....she's a good egg. She also holds the distinct honor of being the ONLY mutual friend of both me and Joey (or is that Joey and me, or Joey and I) post-divorce who has somehow managed to be a GOOD friend to both of us - without falling into the trap so many others did - picking sides.

Next stop - two days in Miami - Christmas Eve and Christmas. Christmas Eve found us at the Feinberg family's annual fest (yep - you read that correctly - more Feinbergs celebrating Christmas). Christmas day we spent with MY family, our crew included my 90 year old grandma Dorothy who flew from LA all by her lonesome. I call her Benjamin Buttons at this point - a year ago she needed a walker to make her way around (after first breaking her hip and then falling again and BENDING the screws that held it together). I guess her injury has healed because the walker isn't around much anymore.

Our final adventure... another CAMPING trip. This time we spent a full three days roughing it...my toes are STILL dirty. We went with Sheila and her two girls again..no extra kids so there were only FIVE this time. She had to leave a day earlier than I did so I kept all five by myself the last night...they were great. Hudson was so adorable he caught a fish and was so proud he could feed us lunch. The poor little fishy only produced about two chicken nuggest sized bites of flesh - but he was just so damn proud of himself. The place was jam packed, which isn't necessarily a good thing when you are using communal showers and toilets. Fortunately, there aren't a lot of women who actually camp (they are generally found in the fancy $500k tour buses - and they have their OWN potties), so it wasn't too bad.

On one side we had two dudes (they would want me to make sure to tell you that just because two guys are camping together - that does NOT mean they are gay), and on the other side we had three college kids. And, on the other side of the college kids, there were two hard core sluts and two very tattooed boys. Ok, so I realize calling them 'hard core sluts' is pretty hard core of ME, but let me explain. The first night we were there, it was probably in the low 70's - warm but ya still needed a sweater. These lovely ladies just hung out by the campfire in their bikinis. As the night progressed, they got louder, and drunker. Then, they proceeded to give the FIVE elementary aged children we had with us an education of the sexual kind I really wasn't prepared to explain. It went a little something like this....blonde HCS leans over and kisses boy on her right - full on make out. Then, blonde HCS leans over and starts making out with boy on her left. Brunette HCS just stood by and watched her friend. Then Brunette HCS took off her top - presumably to upstage her friend. They had two tents, but blonde HCS and her friend Brunette HCS, went into the tent with the two boys. This was followed by some 'if the tent is a rocking don't come a knocking' action - again, ALL of which was witnessed by small children. I thought about saying something the next day but what do you say exactly? "Thank you for introducing my children to the world of swinging?"

So, that's what I've been up to....and now I'm catching up. I still have some questions to answer...I'll get started with those again very soon. Mostly, I just want to wish ALL of you a Happy 2009. It's been a pretty rough year around here, and I know for many of you as well. So, time to yet again wipe the slate clean, and start a new, fresh year. Thanks for participating in my little blogging hobby - sometimes writing is my only sanity preserver and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't bother if I didn't think anyone was reading. So thanks. For reading. And for your unwavering support.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

I Know Who Anonymous is!

Well, this whole 'Who is Anonymous' mystery is classic Meredith Makes a Mountain Out of a Molehill as it turns out. And, as the title suggests, I now know WHO anonymous is.

As you can tell by my reaction to the situation - I have an overwhelming, clinically disturbing need to be liked. It's one thing when I say or do things that I'm well aware might spark some controversy, but the times I piss people off are invariably the times I'm not trying to. Classic Foot in Mouth Syndrome.

Anonymous didn't want to puke and drink wine because of ME, it was actually a reaction to my ex-husband's recent foray into the world of church. I can't really say more without 'outing' this person....and I promised I wouldn't - suffice it to say that anonymous knows him well, and thinks the whole thing is a little crazy. It's a free country, and he obviously can practice whatever religion he chooses, it's just that the Jewish population is one that's on the decline so we like to hold on to as many members of the tribe as we can.

So there ya have it...mystery solved! I'll be back shortly to start answering questions again. I only have ONE left people - have I shared so much of my life here that there are no more mysteries? Come on...seriously you can think of some more...I know you can.

On another note, I got a call from my ex-husband's fiancee (and future mother of my children's half sibling) yesterday asking me if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee this weekend. Yep, that's right, we STILL haven't met. And, I would have. I would have if only she had been interested a few months ago when I asked HER to join me for a cup of coffee. I asked her via Facebook - the only way I knew how to get in touch with her. Only she totally ignored my invitation. I asked the ex what that was all about and apparently until now, she didn't think the 'time was right'. I'm struggling at the moment to be the bigger person and take her up on her invite but I have to tell you, it's leaning towards a 'the time isn't right' from me. The kids have asked me for months when we were going to finally meet, and recently have started blaming ME for the fact that hasn't happened yet. So, I've been getting yelled at by them, over something I've tried to change and have had no control over...very frustrating...and NOW this girl wants to meet? I'd say the time would have been right BEFORE they got engaged and pregnant, but hey, that's just me. If I do go, you'll be the first to know...all of you, because you can be damned sure there will be something to blog about if that happens.

We're Taking a Break From Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

I'm taking a little diversion from my plan to answer your questions all week (though I might get to the next round a little later) to discuss what might be my very first anonymous hater. I say might be because I'm not so sure what to make of this comment. So you tell me.

I live for comments. Ok, so that's a bit dramatic but I really do LOVE them. They make me feel like you are paying attention. Admittedly, during the election frenzy, I put some fairly opinionated stuff out there and I totally braced myself for the haters, only they really never showed up. People were pretty confident in their opinions, and nobody chose to say anything controversial without signing their name to the comment. So, imagine my surprise when my post about my 'conversion' to Judaism generated some secret negativity. I think. Again, I'm not so sure. I'm hoping maybe 'anonymous' might come back to clarify. Or, perhaps someone reading this can help me figure it out. Well, let's start with the actual comment.

Anonymous Said...."OK...u know I love reading this...love hearing about the kids and the trouble u are always finding...however, after throwing up...I am speechless...wine please!!"

So, I've read and re-read that blog entry to try to figure out what exactly made this person want to puke? Was it the part where I talked about chopping off my son's foreskin in my living room? Yeah, I agree - totally barbaric but millions of boys are circumsized every year, and most of the Jewish ones do it this way, so it doesn't seem THAT controversial. Perhaps it was my mother, pissed off that I revealed my penchant for opening my Christmas gifts early every year? Another thought I had was that maybe it was written by an anti-semite who just doesn't want to hear of anybody converting to anything other than Christianity? Maybe I got that whole part about the Unity Church wrong - after all I did get that information from three kids under the age of 10, and the person I was talking about got pissed? Or, my final guess is that it was in response to Andy's comment?

So now that I've gone through trying to figure out WHY the comment was made, my next project is trying to figure out WHO made it. I have this 'statcounter' thing that tells me how many people read this, and where they live according to their IP address. So, I looked at the time the comment was made - 1:22 a.m. Who do I know who stays up that late..hmmmm. Statcounter tells me that this person lives in Reston, VA. Since I went to high school in that area, that doesn't really help. It does rule out quite a few people however. This individual also happens to use Sprint as their internet provider. Not helpful either. Damn I suck as a detective.

So, Anonymous, come back and tell me a little more please. You don't have to reveal your name, obviously you didn't want to or you would have so feel free to keep your identity a secret. Just tell me WHY you threw up for God's sake. And why you needed some wine. Thanks Anonymous, inquiring minds want to know.

Question #2

I'm totally digging this Q&A by the way...come on people throw some more questions at me (comment section)! This could keep me going for days and it's so much easier than having to be creative at the moment.

I now bring you Question #2 from Andy. Andy, for those of you who don't know, used to be my boss. Obviously he was a pretty cool one because here we are, 16 years later, and through the miracle of computer connectivity, we are still in touch. I was already married when I worked for him but he lusted after me like a rabid dog. He stopped short of doing anything inappropriate, yet he made it very clear he llluuuuvvveeeddd me. And, who knows, if I wasn't married I might have lluuuuuvvvvedd him back. As a newlywed it simply wasn't an option so I stayed true to my vows, and everybody behaved themselves.

Back to the question. Andy asked.....

"I'd love to hear you write about what it was like converting to Judaism. Sounds weird, but I always was curious what that was like for you and what it's like now balancing that with your kids. Heavy enough for ya?"

Well Andy, good question. I'll let you all in on a little secret - I never formally converted. How this came to be...that's the story I'll tell you here.

When we got married, we were only 25 - in hindsight much too young for anybody to get married these days. Religion wasn't high on either of our priority lists, so we avoided it all together and had a Justice of the Peace conduct our ceremony with specific instructions that there would be no mention of God....it just seemed easier.

At that point in our lives, we went with Christmas, big tree and all. I LOVED me some Christmas. As a matter of fact, our first Christmas together, my parents had sent a big box of presents for us to put under our tree. Since it was just going to be the two of us, and there weren't any REAL grown-ups there to supervise, we actually opened all of our gifts that year days before the actual holiday like a couple of 5 year olds. Needless to say, that Christmas SUCKED. Not that I was ever surprised on Christmas or anything anyway - I would snoop around my parents house and find my presents every single year. When I didn't succeed at that, I would sneak down late at night armed with tape, carefully OPEN my gifts, check them out, and tape them back up again. Bad bad Meredith. I digress.....

We kept up the Christmas thing for several years, and then we moved to Miami. A few years later, Hudson arrived, and here's where the Jew thing started. When I was pregnant, and found out it was a boy, people started asking me about the 'Bris'. Not having been raised by or around Jews I hadn't a clue. For those of you who don't know, a Bris is basically a ceremony you have at your house where a mohel comes and circumsizes your kid in front of your friends and family a week after he is born. I remember telling my friend Kathy, who lives in SC about it and her response was 'you are going to do WHAT to your baby in your living room?' Yeah, pretty crazy, huh? It gets worse. They strap your baby to this pillow thing that has leg and wrist restraints, with his little pecker sticking out for the world to see. Then, the mohel took Joey's hand in his, and together they performed the 'procedure' - Joey swore he could FEEL the scalpel tearing through the penis flesh - totally traumatic. Lest you think this was without anesthetic - don't worry - part of the protocol is that you give your NEWBORN half a bottle of MANESCHEWITZ (Jew wine) taking underage drinking to a whole new level. I have to say that it worked - Hudson slept for 10 hours straight that night and I remember being more than a little worried it would be the last we saw of him.

As it turns out - the Mohel was hard core. When it came time to fill out the certificate, he asked me my Hebrew name. "Um...well, see, I don't actually have one sir" I thought he would pass out on the spot. This was all of course, AFTER the ceremony, and I was screwed. Apparently, since I wasn't actually a Jew, this whole ceremony was a waste...that was unless I would commit to converting immediately. He gave me the name of a local Rabbi he thought I would like (and I did), and thus the process of converting began. What I didn't understand at the time was that the Rabbi I was meeting with was a CONSERVATIVE Jew, as opposed to the much more relaxed REFORMED Jewish community. My 'manual' so to speak was a book on all things Orthodox, and man I just couldn't see it. This manual told me that I couldn't drive on Saturdays. I couldn't do ANYTHING on Saturdays, including TEARING MY OWN TOILET PAPER, or even changing the thermostat for my A/C, because that was considered work, and Orthodox Jews are not allowed to do work on Shabbat. And I was going to need two ovens, two of everything really, so I could keep my home kosher. Fuck that. I think I made it 4 months into a 12 month process.

As the kids got older, somewhere along the way we decided to become full blown Jews, and started temple shopping. Come on, with a last name like Feinberg it isn't like anyone is going to assume they are Catholic so might as well run with it. The thing about temples, is that you have to pay to join them, around here it's anywhere from $1500 to $2500 a year for a family. I actually don't mind that they do it this way...at least they aren't passing around a plate while guilting you into emptying your purse into it once a week, right? So, after attending Friday night services at every temple in town, we decided on a reformed temple - Temple Israel.

Temple Israel is known as the 'kooky' temple. Kooky because there are a lot of gay members, and several African American members, and the Rabbi rides a motorcycle. How many of you know an African American Jew? So, shortly after we joined, the Rabbi called me in for a get to know you session. I explained to him that I was a conversion drop out, and inquired as to how I could get myself back on the Jew track. He asked me, 'do you feel like a Jew'? By then I really did...most of my friends were Jewish and god knows I'd been to enough services during the shopping phase to feel like I was. As it turns out, Jewish law gives you more than one option for converting. There is some policy in place that if you 'live amongst Jews' and 'feel like a Jew', well, you just ARE a Jew. So, Voila - I was a Jew. I love a good short cut.

So, Christmas was officially banned in our house, the kids started going to Sunday school, and we were fairly active at the temple for a few years. Until the divorce. At that point I was just kind of a mess (I prefer the term - HOT MESS), and I just couldn't handle the extra activity of attending temple functions. So we stopped going, and really haven't been back since. We do celebrate the holidays at home - Hanukah, Passover, Rosh Hashana.

A few months ago, the kids came home from a daddy weekend, and informed me that they had spent their day with daddy and his new girlfriend at CHURCH of all places. The Unity Church. This rumor is unconfirmed, but they tell me that daddy is ONLY celebrating Christmas this year. The kids have always celebrated Christmas at MY parents house, so they know the drill and really have gotten to double dip in my opinion. It sounds like this year is going to be double dipping extrodinaire...lucky kids.

I still consider myself Jewish, and my kids definitely consider themselves Jews. Consider the irony in the fact that me, the convert, lives as a Jew. Their father, born and raised a Jew, is now apparently living as a Christian. Life is funny and you just couldn't make this shit up. Oh, and my brother's wife is Mormon (nothing wrong with Mormons people..it's just that Mormonism and Judaism are both pretty big religious statements if you ask me). So, that's what my parents get for not churching it up in our youth...my brother marries a Mormon and I marry a Jew. Go figure.

Was that a long enough answer for you?

How to Save A Cell Phone That You Drop in a Toilet

On a totally random note, this trick would have come in handy on the many occasions I've dropped my phone in the toilet (ok, it was only twice but both times were very traumatic.)

Here's the link http://www.switched.com/2007/08/15/how-to-save-a-wet-cell-phone/ but if you don't feel like jumping I'll give you the scoop. Take your battery out of your phone and then bury the battery AND the phone in UNcooked white rice for 24 hours. You probably assumed you didn't need to cook it first but just in case any of you are really STOOPID I thought I should clarify.

Pretty cool, huh?

Questions....

I knew I could count on my blogging posse to inspire me...or at least get the ball rolling - my homies came through. Well, Carolyn didn't actually ask me a question but I'm thinking that's because we've known each other since we were 16 so she probably has pieced together anything she'd want to know anyway. When SHE did this exercise, I asked a smart ass question that I assumed I knew the answer to - 'Who was your messiest roomate?' (me, right, that's me?) WRONG - apparently there is someone out in the universe even messier than I am.

Without further ado.... I'm going to go in order. Because I'm a mom and there must be FAIRNESS for all. I was going to answer these all at once but I'm thinking I'm going to stretch this little game out as long as I can....so we will start with Amy.

Amy wants to know....

So what's with the phone bill? Ah, the phone bill....see the end of yesterday's post...slowly but surely my indentured servant is paying her debt.

Was it Miranda that turned your hair orange? No, no, not Miranda/Robert. The person who turned my hair orange was Luis. In his defense, it had been a while since I'd gone to see him so maybe he forgot I need an ASH base color or the whole world turns to shit. Now that I think about it, Luis kinda looks like he is on the 'ormones too in a Michael Douglas face kind of way.

What are you doing all the time? Lately? hmm good question. Well, there's work. Then there's job hunting, because I hate said work. I don't want to jinx myself but I did have my third interview yesterday for a job that is a total step up the corporate ladder so keep your fingers crossed. Then of course, there are kids to contend with...and activities, lots of activities. Oh, and this week is another round of three classroom holiday parties - didn't I just do this a few weeks ago for Thanksgiving?

What are you doing over break? Damn near close to nothing actually, want to come visit? I'm not working much, and baby daddy is going to Boston with his baby mama for a week so the kids and I are going to have some serious one on one time from the 22nd to the 29th. No Dilma either - she gets a week off during the holidays....so my house is going to not only be chaos but you can count on it being a shit hole too.

So, there you have Questions Part 1.....stay tuned for more answers my friends.....

Dear Blog....

Dear blog,

Yes, it's me again, writing to apologize for having NOTHING at all to say to you. I've tried, I've REALLY tried, but alas, I simply cannot inspire myself at all to write something - anything.

I think part of the problem is that as I've been reading other people's blogs regularly, I've decided that you do indeed - SUCK. Yes, from time to time you have something to say that I consider clever, but in general you just aren't that great. Sometimes, people have really funny and interesting things to say but they aren't actually GOOD at writing. Then, you have the people who are great writers, yet their blogs are just plain boring. I find that you, dear blog, are neither well written, OR interesting lately.

I did have an experience last week that was totally blog worthy - yet no matter how many times you tried to write it - you just couldn't make it clever. It really IS funny to be getting a hair cut by a gentleman named Robert, who by the end of said cut, wanted me to call him Miranda. Robert is about to start taking 'ormones (he's from Puerto Rico so no 'h' in hormones), as he isn't really interested in being Robert at this point. Miranda is hoping to grow some boobs, yet would like to keep her penis for the time being. I'm wondering why he/she is going with Miranda when all he/she had to do was add an 'a' to the end of Robert?

That's all I have for you blog, and look - you STILL didn't make it funny. My sister in law is pissed at you too by the way.... and she has some questions.

What happened to the near-daily posts? - see above

Did you ever get a new car? - nope...still driving my almost 6 year old Tahoe

What happened with Dilma's phone bill? - I'm taking $100 a week from her pay until she pays it off...she's none too happy about it but hey, it's a recession and she should be happy she has a job.

Were the kids crushed by Pepe's demise? - TOTALLY. Mostly because they are well aware that they killed him. His cage sits empty in the living room...I'm thinking the Hannukah fairy is going to replace him very soon...and I think I actually miss him.

What's happening now? - Good question...see above...

So, dear blog, there ya have it. If anybody still stops by to see if you have anything new to say, I need some help. Here is yet another blog idea I pilfered from Carolyn Online.. ASK ME SOME QUESTIONS please. I'll answer any and everything at this point...so ask away. Post your questions in the comment section and give me something to write about pretty please.

Thanks for understanding blog....

My Brother In Law on Six Flags With My Kids

This cracks me the f up. Watch the whole thing...the last segment is about our trip to Six Flags this summer when we went to LA.



Those would be my children he mentions at the end..... and I love the joke about the handlebar riding (no, no, I'm not a racist it's just funny).

My Girls Night Out Fantasy

I luuvv me some pop culture. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say, I love me some celebrity gossip trash. So I came up with a little game in my head last night while trying to fall asleep....my own little version of Barbara Walters and her 10 Most Interesting People of The Year. If I could invite 10 celebrity (and I use this term loosely) women to a girl's night out, who would they be? Actually, I could only come up with nine...or more accurately, I just got bored and tired of uploading these pictures.

Oprah - Actually, on second thought, she might make me feel inferior. But, I'm thinking that she has some great vacation homes, and she's pretty generous so maybe she would lend me one with a servant. When she gets a load of my Jerry Springer life, she might actually even feel sorry for me and GIVE me one of those houses. Nah, Oprah is THAT friend..you know, the one you always invite so you can feel like shit about yourself? Oh, and I want to know what's REALLY going on with Gayle.

Kelly Ripa - She has three kids, I have three kids, she has a hot husband, I have a ...oops wait, I don't have one of those. Whatever, I still think she is really funny and I'd like to have a glass of wine with her.

Jennifer Aniston - Well, for one, she has great hair, and maybe she would refer me to her hairdresser....because MY hair has taken on a lovely shade of ORANGE as of late. For another, we both have that dating a young thang thing going. Marc isn't nearly the mouthpiece John Mayer is but they are both tall and have dark hair. Oh, and I like her clothes.. maybe she would let me borrow something?

Tori Spelling - Ok, don't beat me up over this one but I watched her reality show and I have to say I think I like her. She's over the top - but not in a 'my dad was a billionaire' kind of way...surprisingly down to earth. I think her husband is a tool (did anyone see the episode where he sat on their new toilet taking a crap during their housewarming party and half the party ended up sitting in there talking to him during said crap? classy), but she seems like a great girlfriend.

Chelsea Handler - Chelsea is my idol. Period. Chelsea Lately is truly the one show that makes me laugh out loud every single time. Chelsea also has a great wardrobe and since my motives are purely selfish here..thinking yet another opportunity to borrow some shit. She's also half Mormon and half Jewish, which I find to be a fascinating, yet utterly implausible combination.

Britney Spears - Not necessarily because I think we'd have stimulating intellectual debates, but because girlfriend seems like she needs a friend. I would be nice to Britney, and I definitely wouldn't take advantage of her as so many of her 'friends' have done before. She's divorced with two kids, I'm divorced with three kids, she likes Cheetos and Starbucks, I like Cheetos and Starbucks, she has K-Fed, I have J-Fein...her kids have half siblings, mine are about to have one...see the commonalities?

Katie Holmes - Well, for one, I'd like to find out what this marriage to Tommy Boy is all about. Is he gay? Is Suri really an alien? How does it feel to have cameras jumping out of bushes at you and shit? Does Tom KNOW that we can see the lifts in his shoes? Most importantly, WHY did you try to pegleg your jeans recently in a circa 1987 sort way?

Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta - I need to ask her about the 'cancer' ...the kind that they thought she had when her hair started falling out (and her tearful explanation for why she wears that god-awful wig on her head). See, the funny thing is that Kim claims to have a nursing degree. But, any nurse would know, that cancer in and of itself does not make your hair fall out. Interesting.

Amy Winehouse. I'd like to put my hands around the neck that supports that crack hive of hers and squeeze. How DARE you waste such a talent young lady? And, she wears a Star of David so me thinks she is a member of the tribe....and it's my duty as a Jew to save Jews in need. Oh, and I'd like to take her to my dentist.

So, who would YOU invite to your girls night out and why??

Middle of the Night Musings

Rolling Stone Meredith Feinberg is thoroughly impressed with the latest and greatest, soberish, more talented version of Amy Winehouse. Ladies and gents, let me introduce Adele.

Lest it seem as though I'm claiming I discovered Adele, I will take this opportunity to give a shout out to my main music recommendation man Jamie. Jamie is English and therefore genetically has much better taste in music than I do.

Back to Adele. So here is one of her songs - "Tired". Don't ask about the homegrown video motif...I pulled it off of Youtube just for your listening pleasure.



Some of you might recognize this one.....



It's way past my bedtime. I can't sleep so I'm doing my thing...listening to music. It's one of my few talents - music. Remember, us Feinbergs have unique, albeit useless talents. I wrote a blog about that once but couldn't find it to link it. Ah, the great pleasure I took in the moment I got to plug in the IPOD and rap the extended version of Rapper's Delight to my children without so much as taking a breath. Oh, that's the talent part. I remember lyrics. To a lot of songs.

I grew up surrounded by music. Horrible music but it was technically music. There was no sleeping in allowed at my house so around 8 am you were guaranteed to be blown out of bed by Neil Diamond or, in later years, Jimmy Buffet. I can't be sure, but I THINK my dad was introduced to Jimmy by our neighbors. Our neighbors bought the 45 of the Rocky theme song (duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh...duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh, duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh - DUH DUH), labeled the Rocky theme song, only it wasn't. It was Jimmy Buffet's "Let's Get Drunk and Screw". They discovered this snafu as their family gathered 'round the record player to hear their new music....just what every 3rd grader needs to hear.

I also fancy myself a record producer of sorts. Actually make that a talent scout. Scratch that....I don't know what you'd call this. You tell me. If I get a CD, I can pick the songs that will be the hits the first time I listen to it. Joey used to think that it was totally retarded that I thought this was something special...obviously I can pick the hits because they are good songs...and that's why other people like them too. Look man, I don't have very many talents let me pat myself on the back where I can.

You really shouldn't blog write in the middle of the night. I just re-read this and it sounds like a bunch of madness. I think I should stop now. Enjoy Adele....

Just Call Me Taxi Lady

Hudson has been playing on a 'travel baseball' team this year. Aka - baseball that consumes 4 days a week including all day on Saturday for FOUR months. Fortunately, we are getting to the tail end of the season - this is the last week and since it's the playoffs - games every night.

When they play at night, we have to go this field with lights near the airport - 'Grapeland'. Last night, the game ended around 8, and we made our way to the car. As I was loading up, this man, probably in his 40's, with an 8 year old boy in tow (kid played for the other team) approached me.

HIM: Ma'am, I need to ask a big favor of you

Oh great, this can't be good.

HIM: My car won't start and my son has a ton of homework. He is in the gifted program so they give him lots of homework. My wife is going to kill me. See, she didn't want me to take him to the game because she was afraid the car would break down and now it did. Where do you live?

ME: I live in Miami Beach, but I'm sorry sir, as you can see my car is still full of camping gear from the weekend I really don't have room.

He started to CRY. With his kid standing next to him looking up at me with these big brown eyes.

ME: Um, ok, I guess we can make this work, hold on while I do some rearranging

HIM: My house is right on the way to Miami Beach. I appreciate this so much. My car won't start and my son has a ton of homework. He is in the gifted program so they give him lots of homework. My wife is going to kill me. See, she didn't want me to take him to the game because she was afraid the car would break down and now it did.

ME: Yes, you mentioned that.

Thus began a serious of repetitive stories, and then it dawned on me. This dude was SHITFACED.

I was watching my own kids in the rear-view mirror, and with each story repeat, increasing looks of terror on their little faces. I just knew they were thinking...mommy's really done it this time.

His house, the one that was right on my way? Well, it actually was about an HOUR round-trip out of my way - KENDALL. The scary part? What if this guy's car HAD started? Obviously he planned to drive the kid home in his condition (if there even WAS a car). The best part? Dude was so drunk he couldn't FIND HIS HOUSE! Not at first anyway. But, a few trips around the same block later - he remembered where he lived...we'd passed it twice.

Let's just say we all breathed a little sigh of relief when they got out of the car. And we all said a little prayer for gifted Alex...poor baby is going to need it. Only me. And only in Miami.

Camper Barbie Strikes Again

I get in trouble with my blog from time to time. The latest - with my mom. Apparently, people aren't fond of you using their emails to entertain your readers without permission. Especially when they are making comments about other people. I ran into a little problem this weekend when she wanted me to remove the entry - but I couldn't because I was camping again. Yep, you heard me, camping...two weekends in a row. Camper Barbie strikes again.

This camping trip was to the same place in The Keys - sans the seven children and Sheila, replaced with Marc. For those of you who have never met Marc, it's REALLY hard to picture him, of all people, camping. I had a sneaky suspicion he would surprise me and enjoy it, and I have to say I was right on the money. He left the Hugo Boss at home, and totally adapted to the roughing it pretty easily.

We didn't pull into the campsite until almost 10 pm. As we approached 'PT06', Marc laughed and said, 'here? we are going to pitch this tent here, in this SANDBOX?' I don't know why, but that line kept me giggling throughout the weekend. So, I proceeded to show off my new found camping skills, and started the tent pitching process. Only there was a problem, I borrowed the wrong tent. Sheila has two tents, and I THOUGHT I'd grabbed the big one. Nope, I grabbed what can only be thought of as a 'pup tent' - aka WAAAAAYYYY too small for a 6'5" person. Of course I did. Miraculously, I did get the tent up in record time, and it STAYED up the whole weekend. Go me.

Saturday morning, we were awakened by what Marc called - 'that racket'. 'That racket' - was in fact, nature. Granted, nature took the form of what had to be 10 woodpeckers, but still - you know you are city folk when you think birds are more annoying than blaring taxi cab horns at 6 am.

Marc and I spend a lot of time cooking, and eating. It's our 'thing'. Well, we managed to take the cooking and eating to a whole new level, thanks to my new fishing pole. I've really never fished before and I must say - it's a lot of fun. Well, a lot of fun where we were anyway...drop your line in the clear water, where you can see 1000 fish swimming around, and two seconds later you pull up your next meal - now that's fishing.

The fishing started out with me, being extra girly. No f'ing way was I going to put that live bait on the pole. Well, by the second day, I was putting the bait on my pole, his pole, and the poles of the group of stranger kids who were fishing next to us. I even got to the point of pulling the hooks out of the fish mouths. Clearly I'm proud of myself. I did have to draw the line at cleaning the fish - super disgusting and totally a man's job.

Saturday afternoon, we hopped in the car and drove 70 miles to Key West. Key West...hmm... a lot of fond college memories. Sloppy Joes - can you say ALL you can drink for $10? I don't know if they are still running that special, but we did pop in for a quick beer.

We made it to the famous Key West sunset - and I think I'm now old enough to appreciate just how beautful it really is. I also got a tarot card reading from a Polish dude sporting some serious eyeliner. The last time I got my cards read I was also in Key West circa 1992 - the long and short of that reading was that she told me I was going to marry Joey...at the time that was a totally OUTRAGEOUS thought so I assumed she was full of crap. Needless to say, that, along with the other outrageous predictions she made that day...came very true and made me a tarot believer for life. Time will tell if the eyelined Pole was good at his job. He too had some pretty crazy shit in store for my future. Like I'm in need of any more crazy shit.

So, there you have the tale of camping - part deux. I'm totally hooked until I can find yet another new hobby...any ideas?

Pictures Tell the Story

First and foremost...I LOVE CAMPING. Just call me 'Camper Barbie' - what I was dubbed by 4 11 year olds. That and 'The Paris Hilton of Camping'. Kids are funny man.

I was a little worried about sleeping in a tent, but that proved to be unnecessary. In fact, I think I slept better on the ground than I ever do in my bed - go figure. Since my camera was permanently around my neck, I'll let the pictures tell the story. The first would be the turtle, who apparently is a permanent fixture at the campsite. He isn't QUITE 10 feet wide..but he definitely is an old dude. Isn't he cute?

Sheila is a master camper, got this tent put up in minutes. I'd like to say I helped, but I don't think holding something for two seconds counts.


Then there was Steve, the park ranger dude. Steve and his wife Margie have an open relationship, and he wanted us to come over for a drink after the kids went to bed. Steve also brought Sheila a rose, and as you can see, we found a vase. Nobody went to Steve's for a drink Saturday night, but as soon as I emerged from the tent Sunday morning, he was there with the golf cart to drive me to the bathroom. Can you say stalker?



We watched a beautiful sunset, while my children loved on each other. Ok, technically Evan is biting Hudson - which I guess is better than the spitting.


The kids found some baby wipes in my car, which they decided to use to 'wash' it. I wish I had the 'after' picture. Needless to say, I'm in dire need of a car wash.


We cooked some great camping food...smores and all. This is Hayden's bff Jacklyn, Sheila's daughter. They have been friends since they were babies, and I'd venture to guess they will stay friends til they are old ladies. Jacklyn is one of those kids who makes my life easier when she comes over. Like a daughter minus the attitude.



Sunday we woke up to some CHILLY weather, and naturally were totally unprepared. The kids just ran around and played while I layed in the grass relaxing and reading a book.

On our way home, we stopped at this place called Robbies, where you can feed the Tarpon.


That's the story of our little camping trip. It was AWESOME..and such a great way to actually ENJOY my children. Really just ENJOY them. And I know for a fact, they enjoyed each other. Go figure.

Camping Part 1

So obviously we aren't roughing it too much since I have internet access.  And last night we didn't technically 'camp' as much as we stayed in a little blue house IN a campground.  We got a late start so by the time we got here it was 10:00...a little too late for tent pitching.  Fortunately they have these little trailer thingys so a few phone calls later we had a non tent to sleep in when we arrived.  Oh, and we have a few extra kids so that means there are SEVEN of them and TWO of us...not good.  

The little girls fell asleep in the car, so we put them to bed as soon as we got here.  The 'big' girls (four 10-11 year olds) - we let them run around and explore for a little while.  It's funny, there is no free range roaming whatsoever for kids in Miami under any circumstances.  For god's sake - one morning Sheila looked out the window and saw a woman taking a sponge bath NAKED in her fountain...too many crazies to let that happen.  But here in The Keys....it's just a whole different vibe.  

Sheila and I took a little walk on our own too and much to our amusement, there was a slew of Cubans ready to pounce as we walked by their little trailer thingy.  Sheila worked in the Peace Corps after college and was married to a Columbian who speako no english, so while she grew up in Toledo, and looks like a total gringa, she's fluent in espanol.  

Cubanos:  Spanish spanish spanish spanish spanish spanish

Sheila:  Spanish spanish spanish spanish spanish

Cubanos:  Spanish spanish spanish spanish - roughly translated as "you don't look like you speak spanish you look like you are from Ohio or something"

We collapsed into a fit of giggles...what are the odds they would know where she actually is from?  

Cubanos (to Sheila....Cubans never like me they like a little junk in the trunk if ya know what I mean) :  Tu eres lo mas linda que hay (you are the prettiest of the pretty) 

This was after they told us 'La Suegra' was sleeping inside.  La Suegra is espanol for Mother in Law.  We passed on their invitation to join them for a serveza ...thinking La Suegra was going to come chase us with a broom or something.  Not to mention one of them was so fat he looked pregnant and I don't think a white trash camp ground is great place to meet men.  Not to stereotype, but Cubans aren't known for their fidelity if ya know what I'm saying.  Where there's a La Suegra, there is also a wife so no thank you, we will pass.  

The kids already went for a little walk this morning....and saw a HUGE sea turtle.  I was told it was 10 feet in diameter, but I'm thinking it wasn't QUITE that big.  And the moms?  Well, we are about to pitch a tent.  Wish us luck.

to be continued...............

Pepe's Demise

So, as I mentioned, Pepe the guinea pig is no more. I have to admit, I miss the little 'meep meeps' coming from his cage. As I also mentioned, I was a little bit perplexed about what I should do with the ahem...body. I stared at it all day, trying to figure out exactly what one DOES do with a deal animal when you live in a condo. I don't really think the blue hairs in my building would appreciate any grave digging in the common area and besides, I'm pretty sure that's illegal.

I did the only thing I knew to do - called a boy. There just aren't that many things that I actually NEED boys for...but this definitely fell into that category. Marc to the rescue. Fortunately, the kids weren't home so it was just the two of us left to deal. Actually, I didn't do shit, but I did give some instructions.

ME: Don't you think we should go out back and bury him in the mangrove? I'm sure something will dig him up but don't you think that's the best thing to do?

HIM: Sure

ME: You can just go dig a little hole, and voila! a grave site. And then, we can go visit whenever we want

HIM: Sure

ME: I'm sure the kids are going to want to have a funeral or something when they get home on Friday, so make sure you remember where you bury him

HIM: Sure

So, he scoops Pepe up in a Publix bag, while I cower in my room, waiting for it to be over. As he is walking out the door...

HIM: Ok, I'll be back, I'm going down to the beach to bury him, don't worry I've got it.

And he walked out the door. I just melted. I mean, what kind of a nice guy is that....catering to my crazy. Awww, he REALLY must love me, after all, he is going to give my rodent a proper burial. Swooning, thinking hey, you really found yourself a sweet keeper here Mer.

Then, not 5 seconds later he was back.

Pepe down the garbage chute.

MEN.