2025: a year of fortunes

​We have a family tradition around here called “highlights and lowlights”, inspired by the movie “The Story of Us” starring Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer.

In the film, the family would list the three highlights and lowlights of their specific day, but in this household, we try to narrow down the three for the year. 

( we also do this after vacation. It’s a good bonding exercise) 

So who  is game?? 

Pick three.. just three.. highlights and lowlights of your year. 

For me.. and it’s almost impossible to pick just three but that’s the tradition.. the number one highlight , of course, is gaining a wonderful daughter in law, Michelle. Evan found his soul mate.. and we  all get to reap the benefits. 

Number two would have to be vacationing with friends and family… Woodloch in June always makes this list. 

Third??  

That would probably be checking off a bucket list item and finally auditioning for “Wheel of Fortune.” 

My tv appearance may go no further than being in the background when the ABC affiliate in Philadelphia covered the local news story, but at least I put in the old college try. 

Lowlights are harder to talk about, but since this is part of the exercise… I’d have to mention all the scares we had with our much  loved poodle, including that near drowning in August. 

He’s crazier than ever .. demented, sightless, and occasionally incontinent, but he still shows us so much  love,  and the  pretty clear message that he’s not quite ready to go yet. 

He’ll let us know.. and then I’ll let my Facebook friends know.  

The second lowlight is.. well.. it’s the number two spot, but also thousands of spots in between, and that is witnessing the total destruction of democracy.

I still  love and will always love the people I know who voted for his return.. but I think this is going to make everyone’s lowlight list this year.. the realization that such a lowlife is in power. 

Share your thoughts here.. maybe not quite as lengthy.. but I’d like to hear the three brightest and the three dimmest parts of  your 2025. 

Happy New Year to all!

Twas the night

​T'was the night before Christmas in Hawley, P.A.

The place got real  quiet..it's time for J.K.

and all of his crew..(those adored Kiesendahls)

to spend time with family and deck a few halls...

the children seem happy..their faces show ittle concern..

'cause just in one day, they'll reopen..and all will return..

get ready for New Year's..keep making your picks..

There's great fun in store for  two-o-..twenty six!!

The games on the lawn?? They're all well-planned!  Thanks, Joey!

He works dusk 'til dawn on details, so you know he..

will make it a blast just like in 'twenty-five!

As racing fans yell:  "Number Five is Alive!"

and if you get lucky..the fresh fallen snow

means the snow tubes are ready and rarin' to go!

Well..what to my wondering eyes should appear??

But our own Randy Barnes..in his referee's gear!

he's dressed as a judge with his gavel in hand..

and he'll crack inside jokes..that you'll all understand..

Staff whistles and shout at the games by the lake..

but no guest can move..they're too stuffed from crumb cake!

Now Joey! Now Randy! Now Patrick! Now Scooter!

You took kids away from each screen and computer!

To the top of the hill near the Greenbriar porch..

Dash away! Dash!..like you're holding a torch!!

When leaves fall in autumn..the hayride is set..

(there might be some obstacles..don't get upset!)

those Scavenger Hunts may be tough ones..it's true..

But you'll still have fun..'though it feels like a zoo!

See a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too!

December is great and September's "woo hoo!"

And then..in a twinkling..I heard sounds of medal..

they wanted a gold but got bronze..guess they'll...settle??

As I looked for my friends..time to form some new teams.. 

It's been twelve long months..took forever, it seems!

I see them at check-in..my heart..how it soars!

I hope they're all psyched now for "Bakery Wars!"

they need a quick lunch and some time to unpack..

won't matter at all..we are thrilled they came back!

their eyes..how they twinkle! Like festival lights!

(But not in the summer with warm muggy nights)

Pickleball? Archery? Let's set a pace.

Perhaps it's our year for the A-mazing Race!

North Lodge is jam-packed..hear the roar of the laughter..

"B4!" is called out..the crowd answers, "and after!"

Breakfast was yummy..farm fresh are the eggs..

but let's resume Bingo and shout: "Chicken Legs!"

we love special nights when the whole gang gets dressy..

and "Double Dare" fights..which will always get messy!

We blew the Olympics, but aced "Name That Tune"

and carnival's awesome..especially in June!

Pool games are fun through the chaos and hustle..

as passioned guests play like the ghost of Chuck Russell..

bar games and sports games and trivia whizzes..

solving tough puzzles and mastering quizzes..

comics, magicians, and ventril-o-quists

why, nightlife's more fun than a Santa Claus list

it's time to "wrap" (up)..this long ode that I write..

Happy holidays all and to all..a good night!!

Real ID? Just leaf me alone..

​Last week at this time, I was subsisting  on slimy yellow jello and icky  chicky  chicken broth  to prepare me for what I'd be forced to drink later that evening.. a jug of salted pool water, but I think I'd volunteer for a colonoscopy every day for the rest of my life(if I had the lifespan of a fruit fly) rather than face today's ordeal, which was obtaining  a Real ID.

"You''ll need it instead  your passport!" said Jim with great enthusiasm. "It'll make travel so much 

easier!"

Um..it won't, because I will be detained at every travel destination.. every port, , because my Real ID photo makes me look like a meth head, and I don't care, because it was the third attempt to take a decent photo, and if I had to be in that building one more second, I was going to explode.

My current passport is nice and almost flattering.

My  Real ID photo will frighten children.

Once I realized that the inconvenience would go beyond a ten minute wait on line, only to reach the window of a manicured maniac,  only to be humiliated by having to fill out my entire application all over again because for "middle name"  wrote  "Randi, " which IS my middle name

. (if they wanted just the initial, they should have said so!) and  I was told the wait would be approximately ninety minutes. 

I was thinking about never leaving home again, never going on another vacation if it meant we didn't have  to stay at the DMV,  but we decided to wait, and I decided I'd better freshen up if I wanted a decent photo. 

I pulled out the only lipstick I had in my purse..fire engine red that I've probably had since junior high. 

 I wanted to tweeze some stray white chin hairs too, but A) that's kind of gross to do in public and B) Jim assured me that it's not stray hairs that will send those who gaze at my photo into cardiac arrest.

We finally heard our number called, "Y-O-56!" and I  shouted "Bingo!" and  approached the stressed  out employee's station.

After filling out tons of additional paperwork, (I wanted to tell him that I only drive like four different places, and haven't even done that in over a year) he ordered me to stand on the foot cutouts for a picture.

"Take off your glasses," he ordered. 'And don't show teeth!"

Well..the first photo looked like my right eyeball was trying to break out of its socket and start a war with the left eyeball,  so I agreed to a reshoot.

"Separate those bangs..they cover your eyebrows!" and I obeyed, even 'though the photo made me look like Alfalfa from "The Little Rascals"  if he just did a line of coke, but screw it..

Call me Alfalfa and get me out of there.

I'll take my chances, even 'though I know I'll face drug charges when we're in Mexico for my birthday next winter.

I better learn Spanish.

Which I'll have to do anyway, because my crazy neighbor attacked our Hispanic  lawn guys this morning while they were blowing leaves and a few strays wound up on her property.. 

They tried to explain to her that "it's from the wind" but she was having none of this, hurling racial  slurs at "El Stupidos!" which is ironic, because she violates limb encroachment laws every summer, flooding our pool and pool filter with leaves from her tree(which she pronounces as "twee") as she refuses to let us do any trimming.

Jim texted them an apology immediately,  and they responded "we're used to this."

Really?  They're used to.. abuse?

Her husband almost killed me last July, because he's crazy and old and fell off a ladder he had no business being on, insisting that he could take care of household repairs himself, like cleaning gutters with a hose. 

I was on a  pool float, singing Broadway show tunes with my mouth open, when the toxic contents of those gutters  were accidentally hosed off..right into my mouth and eventually into my gut.

(It tasted better than the lemon jello  in case  you were wondering)

Jimmy Kimmels best friend

​Just when I thought I couldn’t love him more.. 

yeah, my husband is amazing, celebrated his birthday today.. blah blah blah…

No.. it’s the other Jimmy.

My hall pass Jimmy.

We both watched his raw, emotional, deeply detailed and personal monologue, a beautiful eulogy to his band leader and best friend.

No cause of death was mentioned, but it is obvious Cleto had been ill, which is why Jimmy abruptly cancelled his  show last week.

I’ll stop crying eventually, and so will Jimmy , but oh man!!

This was an absolutely beautiful love story..

A story of laughter, love, and friendship that knew no limitations.

Jimmy’s birthday is on the thirteenth. I hope he can experience joy and a little happiness in honor of his best friend, Cleto.

Leo, Calista, Demi aaaand Jim

​We're not Norse, but happy Loki birthday to Jim Amster, my very patient spouse. 

You share a birthday with Leonardo DiCaprio!

(but not a penchant for sleeping with women under the age of twenty five)

You share a birthday with Calista Flockhart!

(but not a penchant for eating what wouldn't even sustain a newborn guppy's daily food intake)

You share a birthday with Demi Moore!

(But not a penchant for SUBSTANCES that will keep you young and youthful..your juvenile humor takes care of that..plus that fact that you've been embracing your gray hair since you were twelve)

Thanks for all the love, laughter, life!

It makes the daily assault on my eardrums (when you crunch your  cereal with blueberries) TOTALLY okay.

Looking forward to celebrating in AP this weekend...let the Facebook acknowledgements commence!

Oh what a night and a 36 years!

Exactly one year ago today, we walked out of that Thai restaurant, filled with nostalgia, laughter, and peanut shrimp with noodles.

We were saturated with joy as we realized we made it to our thirty fifth wedding anniversary...that you withstood my insanity and I didn't ever even think even once about killing you as you loudly crunch that Total cereal (with blueberries) every morning.

We survived my laziness and your thoughtlessness when you leave all those dishes in the sink, we survive because of our deep commitment, shared humor, and patience

Also, 'cause we're both a little chill.

A little..

We left that parking lot with a lot of love and a lot of hope, as Allan Lichtman pretty much assured us we'd get the outcome everyone anticipated on Election Night, 2024.

We returned home from our anniversary celebratory dinner and turned on the live coverage.

Hours later, once we absorbed the shock, we shed some tears and a shared determination to fight wherever and whenever possible.

As a team, we could withstand anything...threats to our democracy, an incontinent poodle, your upcoming retirement. (the latter turning out to be a great thing, because we get to spend that much more time together, making each other laugh, or making each other resort to our arsenal of sarcasm.)

Last night was different.

It was the eve of our anniversary, and we watched the blue wave come crashing in. We felt relief and joy and optimism, that maybe now, in our twilight years, we can live out the rest of our days under a democracy, where this administration will eventually be nothing but a joke--a bad dream.

And what a year it's been, huh??

Gaining a wonderful daughter-in-law in Michelle, , vacationing with family, marking a milestone as Evan turned thirty...

Happy anniversary to the man who shares my values, my humor, my taste in music, and my life.

Let's go make some more memories.

You've got the time..

It ain’t tariffs!

I love the smell of MAGA in the evening.

We visited one of our local haunts before seeing that terrific new movie, “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You”

We’ve had this server before and you have too, even if you’ve never been anywhere near this diner.

She’s abrupt, tough, and underfed, even in a place with endless comfort foods available upon request. She acts like she’d rather be anywhere but where she is, smoking her cigarettes and stressing about life’s indignities.

You absolutely know the type .. slamming your plate down to the point where you think it’s going to shatter on impact. Making you terrified to ask for water even if you’re gasping for air. Gaslighting you into believing it’s your fault for being such a Karen, because as she’s throwing the extra napkins you requested, she’ll say things like “ here you go hon!”

The place was mobbed last night, and when I pointed it out to Maggie, ( I’m not sure that’s her name but it suits a MAGA waitress) she says, “ oh yeah, HON.. been like this for three nights. Nobody wants to cook no more.”

I say, “ you’ve raised your prices a little since we were last here, but not as much as most of the places around here did. I guess it’s tariffs, huh?”

“It ain’t tariffs…!!! Don’t you pay no attention?? For eight years, nobody’s done NOTHING!! They don’t do nothing and then they get mad !”

I nodded politely as she boxed our leftovers, wondering if any of her bodily fluids would wind up in the containers.

I tell this story to Jim who was at the register when this happened and he asked, “ does she realize that her guy was in charge for at least half of those eight years?”

( no hon, she don’t)

Wish me luck when I microwave today’s lunch

Oy with the poodles!

Ok, I’ll admit my “Gilmore Girls” obsession is borderline unhealthy these days, ( except it’s not.. the show is therapeutic, soothing, and magical) and I’ll credit the algorithm that is aware of this, flooding my feed daily with long forgotten reels.

I’m reliving every dreamy detail, from the time I first discovered it ( on ABC Family one summer.. I didn’t watch its initial run on the WB) to hearing the uplifting troubadour music with a daily ear worm.

I’ll never forget my trip to Los Angeles in 2019, when our travel agent booked a backstage tour of Warner Bros. Studio for us, and my unparalleled joy seeing a GG poster before our tram departed.

Little did I know how much was in store.. that the tram would actually stop in Stars Hollow! That I’d stand in the gazebo ( it was daytime, so there were no twinkling lights) and I’d actually walk through Lorelei and Rory’s home and actually feel their presence. It was surreal!

Because of the sudden influx of these reels, I’ve been quoting a lot of Lorelai-isms, especially her favorite, “ oy with the poodles”

And I was today years old before I suddenly realized… all the important poodles in my life have a Gilmore connection that wasn’t consciously apparent when it came to picking out names!

Our first poodle, Max, was whelped six years before the show aired, but Lorelai’s boyfriend and Rory’s Chilton teacher was.. Max Medina!!

And then of course, her longtime beau and eventual husband.. LUKE!

Who’s just as adorable and cranky and loyal as my little guy.

But that’s not all!

My brother’s family were the first relatives who welcomed three of this wonderful breed into their lives.

First there was Gigi ( Rory’s half sister’s name!) and then Lulu, the name of Kirk’s eccentric girlfriend. Their newest addition is Coco, and I just remembered that was the name ( spelled “ Cocoa” but pronounced the same) that was originally given to Paul Anka, the dog adopted by Lorelai to heal her broken heart after the estrangement from Rory.

There’s a Max! There’s a Luke! There’s a Gigi, Lulu, and Coco(a)!!

Oy with the poodles!!

So exciting to see all the media coverage to honor the 25th anniversary of the series, and Lauren Graham’s recent acquisition of a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

( now if only someone could invent a Time Machine that would wake up those Emmy voters who failed to give her what she so richly deserved)

I’m so glad that I got to talk to a cast member just last month while I’m still in this all consuming phase of GG nostalgia, even one who played a villain.

Thank you, Amy Sherman Palladino, for all the light in these dark days.

Where you lead, I will follow.

Jamaican flip flop

All my bags are packed.. I’m ready to go.

What a fantastic little romantic getaway… just what the doctor ordered.. for everyone in the country.

Last night’s dinner falls into the category of “be careful what you order.”

The restaurant had a lively, happy hour for hours vibe that we were both digging.

The server was as sweet as Mary Poppins, as all the people we’ve encountered seem to be.

Not only were we not charged for the stolen towels, we were given warm fluffy ones to replace them.. an amenity we could have had all week had we just spoken up instead of complaining about in this stupid blog which I thank you all for reading.

I get so distracted.

Oh yeah.. our meal started with delicious chicken tortilla soup that we shared, and ended with the fresh key lime pie cup, our first dessert that wasn’t ice cream.

Because I’m not adventurous enough to think outside the lobster trap and order seafood or fish I don’t actually hate, like crab cakes, I ordered a mediocre burger with fries that were barely touched.

Jim got a grouper sandwich, Jamaican style, which tasted, he claimed, like the flip flops he wore on our honeymoon in Montego Bay nearly thirty six years ago. It was so gelatinous and repulsive that he actually sent a photo to Chat GBT to get their opinion, instead of sending it back for fear of offending Mary Poppins.

“It’s fine,” he said, because he’s polite and from Ohio”

“ nothing beats this microwaved buffalo snot” he said to me, because it doesn’t matter if he has the manners of a mid westerner around someone he accidentally shared a toothbrush with all week.

(They were both pink.)

We look out the window and see the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle, and I’m thinking the hospitalty in this resort is so amazing that they just sensed that Jim and his grouper sandwich were never going to be best friends.

Turns out the flashing lights were due to a literal flasher.

I usually ignore heavily intoxicated men, especially if they’re smoking cigarettes on a crowded street, but curiousity got the best of me, so I asked the less creepy intoxicated man about why there were so many emergency vehicles on this street of stores that sell sunglasses and bar revelers singing Jimmy Buffett songs.

“ seems some guy had to much to drink and exposed himself,” said the guy who had too much to drink as he blew cigarette smoke into Jim’s nauseated face. “ you don’t mess with that shit here in Florida. Not in THIS county, anyway.”

He continues.

“My son was down here a few years ago and he had too much to drink too. But he didn’t expose himself, no madam.. he did not. He just went into a diabetic coma but they take care of you if you drink too much in this here part of Florida.”

“Oh yeah?? Do they “take care” of you when your husband is too polite to send back a plate of slime?”

Going home to dry towels, an incontinent poodle with vision problems, and a very full DVR.

See you next trip!

The people you meet in the ocean!!

The people you meet in the ocean!!

Are sometimes even more fascinating than the fish, diving birds, and ice cream sundae peddlers.

I started talking to a handsome, well tanned man with cool sunglasses , nursing a beer, tattoos glistening in the sun, the type of guy you’d never expect me to strike up conversation with, but there we were, a few hours later, with his childhood friend, Daryl from Massachusetts, and my Jim, joining in to enjoy the rays and the waves and swapping of life stories.

Kenny owns a home in nearby Venice, but told us this particular beach in Siesta Key was the nicest in the vicinity.

He’s a police officer from DC, on the scene for many mind blowing events, including an amusing one about an escaped bear invading an urban neighborhood, and some more covered ones, like being actually on the scene during January 6th.

Political talk was kept to a minimum, but he was very civil and very intelligent. He shared stories about Iraq and being in the Air Force in Italy, and we were captivated. He referred to himself as a moderate and that became abundantly clear early on.

His friend Daryl joined us shortly after, beer in hand, and the stimulating conversation continued, from the three guys talking fantasy football league, to a recommendation, from them, of where to have our last dinner here, Siesta Key Oyster Bar.

(Aka SKOB.. we walked by the sign earlier and thought it was some kind of urban slang acronym)

Turns out the buddies have wives and young kids at home, so naturally I talked all about how they HAD to visit the number one family resort in America, my Woodloch Pines.

They’re going to love it and we’re going to love the ambience in the place they recommended.

It’s weird.. your parents drum into you your whole lives not to talk to strangers, and I want to respond, “ but strangers aren’t boring! They don’t talk about bullshit that nobody in their right mind would talk about.. I didn’t care then, don’t care now, and won’t care ever about your experience trying to return tea towels to Target.”

Strangers don’t do that.

Strangers make you happy.

Until you get to know them.

Meanwhile, we’re totally water logged and wrinkly, but we really could use Kenny the Cop now .. because somebody stole our beach towels!!

They’ve been accumulating our body sweat and dirt all week.. who the hell would want them??

Mine reeks of Ever Pure Shampoo for chemically treated hair and blood pressure meds.

All I know is we had better not be charged for them!!

The shack-y, bungalow-y place we’ve called home the last few nights has been fun, despite the lack of space for wet and/or dry clothes, and the ceiling/ shower brain worms nicknamed Bobby and Cheryl, and the fact that housekeeping is only available upon request, but we should not be responsible for towels that house our body sweat and anger.

I’m eating healthier these days.. tortilla soup and a small salad with blackened baby shrimp and red onions and these cheesy croutons that were as good as crack, but I’ll get back to my routine by Monday, sadly.

I guess that’s means, as far as clean eating goes, it’s time to throw in the towel.. if I can find it!!

Salle de bain

It’s another beautiful day, but we opted for chaise lounges by the pool this morning instead of the ocean, which we’ll get to after lunch.

I love the ocean, and I love the fact the you don’t have to deal with shells and seaweed and undertows here, but the bottom is never smooth, even when you’re neck high, which means your feet feel like they’re walking on over ripened half cantaloupes.

Jim is barking in French now, practicing his Duo Lingo, but he also says he doesn’t want to ever go back to Club Med because of all the rain in Cancun in 2023,so WTF?? ( why the French)

He’s going to get ravenously hungry any minute so let me tell you what just happened while sitting here by the pool.

I couldn’t find the restroom.. not even a sign for it.. and there’s no way I was going to use the hot tub or walk six feet back to our room.

I ask one family but they said they just arrived here and had no idea where it is.

Then I asked a brown skinned guy in a sombrero who obviously works here because he was painting a fence but all he kept saying was “ no English!”

Over and over again.

And you don’t even want to know what I pantomimed to communicate better, but it didn’t matter because he just took his paintbrush and ran away from me.

So I finally find the restroom, switch on the light, sit down, and burst out laughing, because there was a sign.. advertising that the specialty at the Tiki Bar, was rice and beans, and also, Brussels sprouts, and a bunch of cocktails with names that were so hysterical that I was lucky I was seated on a toilet.

I’m laughing like a hyena when I get back to Jim and the Just Arrived Dad told me he found the bathroom, but by this point I was giggling too hard to ask if the men’s bathroom advertised things like Brussels sprouts on the wall next to the hand dryer.

Chicken and Waffles

I finally ordered the chicken and waffles because,after being here a total of seventy two hours, I am officially southern and may order something called “gator “ if we decide we want ice cream from something other than a floating truck later today.

Not even here three full days, and I’m telling the women from New Jersey on a girls’ getaway weekend exactly what to do any where to go, like I personally authored Fodor’s Guide Books.

I stab my chicken and waffles as I spoke to the Jersey girls and noticed the woman next to their table was opening up the lid to her stroller and hand feeding her baby sausage and scrambled eggs, which I thought was quite odd, but then I look and see the baby, named “Renter” was actually a chihuahua mixed breed, with better table manners than most people I know.

Why is the phrase, “swimming with the fishes” a bad thing? I enjoyed them thoroughly, and wondered if one if ‘em was going to order a “Fudgy the Whale” when the ice cream truck floated again today.

Give me a break.. that’s my first forced joke of this vacation, and I bet some of you goofballs laughed despite yourselves.

Of course I wanted the afternoon to revolve around frolicking, and it did.

Jim and I spent a good part of the day doing what we did when we first fell in love while vacationing in Maine: we played word games in the waves.

It’s more fun than you’d think.. and I was winning when we did the “Name That Tune” portion, where we had to name songs with girls names in them, alphabetically, and I choked on an X.

Don’t read anything into that.. do YOU know a song with a girl’s name starting with an X? Or any girl’s name with that letter, even not in a song?

Water was delightful as usual, until I got spooked by a manatee that turned out to be my shadow.

Also, Jim schlepped on the sand to a pizza joint that ran out of pizza.

He’s very patient and waited a half hour for a mediocre slice, but then again, he rehabilitated not one but two inch worms ( I nicknamed them Bobby and Cheryl because I’m obnoxious) from our shower and ceiling fan, so he’s got a LOT of patience.

Life’s a beach indeed

We met Joni M at the Cottage

We synched our Kindles to the latest caper from Carl Hiaasen ( when in Rome) and we’re now listening to the soulful sounds of Sarah somebody, who is serenading us with the best of Joni Mitchell and Carole King.

In a garden setting!

Jim said his ahi blackened tuna was absolutely scrumptious, and I thoroughly enjoyed the tender and perfectly seasoned short ribs.

And that’s not even mentioning our frolicking in that crystal clear water today, with shimmering waves and diving birds and floating ice cream trucks serving ice cream floats.

Ignore me next time I gripe about petty nonsense.. this is a wonderful beach getaway. Jim picks the very best, doesn’t he?

Flying objects

Day Two/Three

Pay no attention to that almost septuagenarian in the floppy white hat and the unshaven legs: she wanted a beach vacation and that’s exactly what she’s getting.

I will longer refer to myself in the third person.

Three’s a crowd.

Ignore me when I bitch that there’s no room for your stuff.

I mean, there still isn’t.. it’s not like a bunch of contractors broke in overnight and installed adequate shelving, but I’ve learned to improvise.

Like, a shelf that could hold no more than an upright James Michener novel could now hold my shirts and shorts if I triple fold them.

I have to get over my shelf and enjoy nature.

Nature means sitting on this beautiful beach, walking on cool sand made of quartz , watching as our ten dollar umbrella nearly impaled two separate sets of beach goers.

I came here for the calm, beautiful water, filled with minnows and graceful birds who make the most amazing sounds when they panic dive.

It’s like looking through a kaleidoscope of blues, the reason we came here.

The town is so beachy and shabby chic that I’ve coined a new adjective to describe it: “ shacky.”

It is very shack-y and that’s a good thing.

Everywhere you walk, you see brightly colored shacks, bustling with coffee drinkers and fit people having egg white omelettes next to heavily waxed surfboards.

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely love the sound of a beachy breakfast joint, where you hear the clatter of porcelain plates and glassware and cutlery, with menus that serve things you want to eat but won’t, like freshly made apple fritters.

The fritters are warm ( I’m guessing)and the servers are warmer, even when they’re complaining about the family that occupied the table before you did, and the negligent parents who let their kids doodle butterflies with sharpies.

You see a bird stealing a corner of an omelette that the busboy hadn’t cleared yet, and you say to your husband, “which came first? The bird or the egg?”

We ate breakfast at a place called “Another Broken Egg” and yep, I’m gonna go there.. it’s everything it’s cracked up to be.

Jim is preoccupied with the flying fish and the flying umbrella, I’m wondering who besides me, notices I didn’t shave very well, but after all that is said and done, I’m glad we’re here.

Omg!! Literally, an ice cream truck is floating in the ocean, making its way towards a hot and thirsty crowd! And people are lining up for fudgicles and.. I’m betting.. ice cream floats!!

Sara soda

I Sara sorta like it??

I think, maybe?

Maybe not???

You know me on day one of vacation, especially since this is technically day two, because we had to cancel yesterday’s flight because of the “Nor’ Easter,” which is Jersey talk for “barely noticeable sprinkling,” but yeah, it’s technically Day One, so I’m nothing but complaints.

We’re actual in Siesta Key, not Sarasota, and I feel like I shouldn’t be with Jimmy Amster. This town is calling for Jimmy Buffet, or my hall pass, Kimmel.

The flight was smooth but I don’t understand why my brand spanking new turquoise luggage looks like someone gave it a mud bath on the carousel, or why my laminated ID tag is MIA.

We landed in Tampa, a 60+ mile Uber ride from the airport.

The further we drove the redder it got.

I actually felt like I was driving through blood.

We arrived to what will be our home for the next four nights, the Siesta Beach resort and hotel.

It’s beachy, but so am I.

They initially tried to put us in a room directly inside the tiki bar.

They might call it outside the tiki bar, but trust me, it was inside the tiki bar, or might as well have been.

The tiki bar… where Floridians go to show off their tattoos and drink and laugh about absolute nonsense.

This is Florida, so we could’ve lived with that.

What we couldn’t live with is a room the size of a shoebox.

I’ve been on inside cabins on cruises that were three times the size.

There was no chair, no desk, no storage space, and no fucking way I was staying there.

For $60 more, we were upgraded to a room so close to the pool that it might as well be IN the pool, but at least there’s enough lounge chairs so I have place to store all my clothes.

We meet Dan and Patty from Central Florida by way of Wisconsin.

Dan says things like “the Gulf of America” and follows it with “there. I said it !”

This is their fifth time vacationing here, and they warned us about the claustrophobia and the lack of a nightlife for non-drinkers.

Every place you walk, you hear somebody playing “Margaritaville“ but I kinda like it.

Hey, it already beats the jersey shore, where it was the summer of shark sightings and drowning deaths from riptides, so I’ll take this.

I overheard someone from North Dakota talking in the pool, probably to her mother, probably who somebody Frances McDormand would play in the movie.

1. “ we still have to drive to Orlando for tattoos!”

2. “ I’m using the absolute fuck out of this sunscreen!”

3. “ the ocean here is nice, but the fish are crazy and they launch themselves onto you and I have no idea why“

We’ve only been here three hours, and I’m still trying to decide if there is enough shelf space to hold a Bic pen.

Our Mexican dinner tonight was very brown. Brown decor, brown chips, brown sauces, brown clothing.

I would’ve been OK with this if there wasn’t a big sign on the pool saying “no diarrhea“

Remember, this is still technically my Day One.

I will do a lot less complaining tomorrow.

Assuming I will not be kidnapped by aliens overnight, so tabloid tv could get their “only in Florida” lead story.

Ama-zoned out

Ok Amazon.. what’s up?? We sent a sweet little baby gift, a little lamb, to one of Evan’s friends that just had a baby girl. Well.. apparently the tracker/router device is very confused!! This wouldn’t happen with Santa Claus! A two week old little princess just got a twelve pack of my high energy chocolate protein shakes delivered to her home. Next thing you know she’s getting Luke’s chew sticks. This glitch had better get fixed before that innocent little girl gets a box full of unmentionables…

Welcome Back Kimmel

 Welcome back Kimmel!

Welcome back!

Your joke caused your exit out

Welcome back!

SAD!!  That freedom of speech

Was tossed out

Disney’s profits would fall since you left the air

Even Cruz and Rand Paul shouted out:

“It’s no fair!!”

Who’d have thought they’d screw ya?

MAGA, what’s it to ya?

Where’s your sense of humor?

Asks THIS baby boomer?

‘Cause he teased you a lot??

Why’d you snowflakes get so hot?

But he’s back!!

You can’t censor a wit.. welcome back

Just ‘cause you’re fulla sh-t

Welcome back!!

Welcome back!!

Guillermo, we missed your laugh!

Welcome back!

First Amendment’s still here 

Guess they HEARD your staff!!

Oh they didn’t buy that hate

Spewed by Brendan Carr

Now we’re staying up late

To see WHO you are!!

Folks were dropping HULU 

Folks were shouting “screw you!”

Revenue was tanking

Now they should be thanking

Those who reasoned a lot

‘Cause you’re back in your time slot!

Welcome back!

A (Re)tiring Day

So I may or may not ever be a contestant on a TV game show ever again, but in real life, I'm still counting my blessings and my recent good fortune.

I was a very proud wife at Jim's retirement party today--the accolades kept coming, along with the pizza with varying toppings.

He is so obviously still revered, treasured, respected, and so missed by all his friends and colleagues.

I never knew nerdy guys(and a few women) could be so sentimental but they were ..extolling his virtues and making Jim laugh. Without even using their laptops to do so. Every word was sincere and heartfelt.

Jim was really in some great company, working for an even greater company, for those forty eight years. The admiration and respect was palpable.

We then had a terrific dinner with our dear friends who are the opposite of the dreaded small talkers..I could have continued our stimulating and deep conversations long after dessert plates were cleared, but we had theater tickets for a local production of "Can't Run, Can't Dance."

The plot was a little convoluted in the first act, by the second, we were all mesmerized, laughing, gasping, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves, wondering if any injuries were real from all the staged violence and slapstick humor we witnessed.

But the real thrill for me came after curtain call, when I spoke to the playwright in the very uncrowded lobby.

I told him how much I enjoyed the play, but more importantly, how fan-girly(I didn't use that word) I was to be shaking hands with a major cast member of my favorite television show of all time.

I shared my experience of going to LA in the summer of 2024 with Jim and Evan, and how surreal it felt to be on the Warner Brothers lot, and taking the tram that delivered us to the fictional town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut, and the front door of none other than Lorelai Gilmore herself.

I got all goofy and dorky at this point, asking him if he still sees any original cast members("only when there's an event planned, like a reunion show or a fan festival") and then I blasted him for being so mean to Rory Gilmore, but I sounded so stupid when I said it, like I actually believed he was Mitchum Huntzberger instead of talented actor/writer Greg Henry.

He's not an a-hole..he just played one on TV.

But he did real scenes with Lauren Graham!

And Alexis Bledel!

Melissa McCarthy was his co-worker! (But I don't remember them being in any scenes together off-hand)

I talked to someone who was on GILMORE GIRLS!!

I think it's time to spin that wheel again, while my hands still work and my lucky streak is still intact.

Right in the butt

Another day, another whirlwind of activity.

I'm not used to being this busy...on any given day, I need a nap after charging my Kindle or flossing my teeth.

Today I get to celebrate Jim's official retirement luncheon, even though he's been officially retired since June.

.Everyone is wondering if he's driving me crazy yet, and I succinctly reply, "I don't drive any more and I've always been crazy, so..yeah."

Still, I'm proud of all his accomplishments and how he fills his days without complaining about how he's filling his days.

Tonight it's dinner and theater, an original comedic farce written by Gregg Henry, who played Mitchum Huntzberger, Rory's beau Logan's villainous Dad.

There are no bad guys in "Gilmore Girls"..that show is sacred.

I'm still trying to recuperate from yesterday, still glad that I finally at least auditioned for "Wheel of Fortune" but still miffed that my odds of getting on the show are slim. There must have been a thousand applicants on line yesterday, which is probably going to repeat today.

And that's just one city!!

Philadelphia isn't the only place holding auditions, and if you factor in all the virtual tryouts as well, then reality sets in: Even if when I sold myself yesterday with a price tag and a coupon, if I wasn't given the chance to actually prove my puzzle solving dominance, this might be as far as my "Wheel of Fortune" journey is going to go.

And it's sad.

Once again..this is NOT conceit(well..it is..a little bit..) but BEWILDMENT.

Go ahead and ask Jim for confirmation.

(He's retired..he's got nothing better to do).

Last night's category, "crossword puzzle" had this hint: "corn"

The contestant spun the wheel and called and an "r", which was revealed as the second letter on the top. I saw the "r"..then "saw" (corn) BREAD, then "saw" that the "B" in "bread" could spell out (corn) BALL, and immediately "saw" the position of the "l" and knew it could only spell out (corn) FLAKES, which led me to connect the "d" from "bread" with the " "s" from "flakes" and yes, you're reading this correctly, although probably with with a lot of confusion, I'll bet, that , I solved BREAD/FLAKES/DOGS/BALL with ONLY the "R".

I saw the entire puzzle after only one letter was revealed.

Too bad the producers might not think this is good television.

Too bad I'm only getting judged on my personality..they didn't even ask WHICH of my many personalities they wanted to see.

I'm a savant, not a used car salesman.

One funny thing that did happen while waiting on line that I forgot to mention in yesterday's recap: My new buddies and I were talking about all the hilarious solutions we've seen in classic episodes " The Wheel.".including when the contestant guessed "Pill Pushers" instead of "Well Wishers" for the "people" category.

Hmmph!..I wonder what was HIS unique selling proposition during HIS interview?

But then we all had a laugh at a solve that happened during one of Pat Sajak's last shows as the host, when the personality-plus contestant guessed "This is the Best" as the memorable "Right in the Butt???"

None of us could initially remember the real answer ("This is the Best) so Jim volunteered to look it up by googling "Right in the Butt" to which sweet Emma Stone look-alike Ariana replied, "I'd be careful googling "right in the butt" if I were you."

See? Even if I don't beat the odds, I had a morning full of laughter and camaraderie.

But I solved BREAD/DOGS/FLAKES/BALL with only the "R" so screw that!!

If I don't get on, the producers who make these decisions are F_LL of _ _ _ _

Let me get ready to tackle the day.

There's no rest for the restless.

(H)Amster wheel of fortune

September 18, 1987:

The day my BBF in the whole wide world, Rochelle, got her first and only hangover, which meant she had to bow out of our scheduled trip to Club Getaway in the Berkshires, Connecticut, which meant I had to leave my comfort zone(namely, sitting by the lake with her all day making fun of people) and be sociable with people I barely knew.

One of those persons was Jim Amster.

Now, if Rochelle had felt well enough to go with me that weekend, we still might have made fun of him, but she would have looked me in the eye and said with absolute conviction, "He's going to be your Happily Ever After someday"

And she was right.

September 18, 2009:

We decided we want to send our stable lives into chaos and upheaval by adopting a psychotic little poodle name Luke.

Our lives have never been the same. I

'll let you know if that's a good thing or a bad thing as soon as I know.

September 18, 2020:

I was having this very conversation with my husband and son, pointing out the significance of this previously random date, when Evan got an alert on his phone and said, "Well..the date is going to be remembered for something bad this time..Ruth Bader Ginsberg just died, and I'm betting SCOTUS will try to replace her before the election, but at least we found out her mother shared our last name"

September 18, 2025:

I finally answered my calling..people who have known me for years and are familiar with my astonishing skills at solving Bonus Round Puzzles on "Wheel of Fortune"--that's not conceit--it's BEWILDERMENT- finally -convinced me to listen to karma and go out and audition.

A security guard told us some very confident fans--at least forty--camped out all night to be the first to audition. The on-line announcement told hopefuls that the line would start at ten but auditions wouldn't start until an hour later.

We arrived at 10:10--to the Rivers Casino in my old hometown of Philadelphia, where we found a line that's longer than when a new attraction first opens in Disneyworld. The line was long, and in the sun, and there was no place to sit, and I'm going to stop complaining because I absolutely need to share details while they're still fresh.

I admit to being "Obnoxiously Braggy" (hey..woudn't that be a hoot if I got on the show and that was the bonus puzzle answer ??) when it comes to my prowess with solving even the most complicated bonus rounds, but I soon discovered that there would be no opportunity to show off that skill this day. No chance to prove I once solved "quick foxes" with just the "e" and "s' because there'd be no trial game playing.

There'd just be ..let's call them personality tests--to see if you qualify for making good TV. I had to not be a Karen and sell myself as a Karen.

I was at the mercy of a producer..who'd either love me or despise me..like what happens in the in the real world.

But if this experience never goes any further than today--to experience all that joy and laughter and camaraderie while sweltering in that eternal serpentine of a line--well..so be it.

Because it t was fantastic!!

We were told we had to sell ourselves in a thirty second interview..yep, we were gone for nine hours today just to get a chance for thirty seconds of fame.

Still worth it.

I befriend two people on line, the very sweet Ariana who is a doppelganger for Emma Stone, and the hilarious, phenomenal, absolutely-nailed-this-and-is going-to-get-on Nyim, who donned a Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat cover while totally channeling a young Eddie Murphy and an even more charismatic young Bily Porter.

People who didn't even get to chat with him as long as I had confessed to being in love with him

I so want Myim to get a slot, but if it's at the expense of me getting on the show, Imma gonna scratch his twinkling little eyes out, and listening to him giggle and call me "Miss Karen!" while doing so.

Everyone was rehearsing what they were going to say in those precious allotted thirty seconds, but that is not enough time to sell my almost seventy years of my goofiness and patented insanity.

A pre-recorded film of Ryan Seacrest shown in the lobby advised potential players not to just say you" love the show because it wouldn't sell.

Everyone does.

Except for people who chose "thing" as their category in the bonus round. They obviously hate the show.

So I practiced my spiel with my new buddy who gave me the absolute confidence to crush this thing..or at least, that's what I hoped

Those poor people standing in the endless queue did not have a chance..by the time they'd make it to the airconditioned interviewing room, they'd be drenched in perspiration while trying to sell themselves between asthmatic coughs.

Speaking of queue, when the reporter from the local ABC news affiliate showed up to tape a segment for today's newscast, while most of the hopefuls were dancing in place and shouting, "Go Birds!"..I was shouting, "Give me a Q 'cause I'll figure out very early that it's in the puzzle."

And then I did what I think is the one of the most brilliant things I've ever done in the history of auditioning for this show, which is non-existent, because this was my first time.

I'm either going to come across as a conceited cocky schmuck--or someone sneaky and clever.

The stuff I planned to use in the thirty second interview, knowing there's be no time to use it, was now sneakily put... on the application!!

Like, when the form asked "is there any special themed week you want to be considered for?" ..where lots of Teachers and Military folks were checking off boxes, I had the sheer gall to write, with poor penmanship to boot, "Yes, if the theme is "I Solved "My-Poodle-Ate-My Homework-with-just-the-"t"-and-the-"e" Week, " please consider me.

Is that brilliant or what? It's like I actually had the chance to SPIN THE WHEEL and PLAY.

I didn't use the INTERVIEW to show off--I made the APPLICATION a second interview!

One that was perfect for showing off.

And when asked if I had ever been on a game show before(Jim suggested that should have been my opening line) I filled out the APPLICATION with details--including how Dick Clark would give backrubs to nervous contestants waiting in the winner's circle on "Pyramid".

The application asked if I had grandchildren, and instead of just not checking an "X"..I wrote that "my son only got married four days ago..give it time!"

(Although Evan and Michelle..please don't name my future grandchild "X" just because I have an overwhelming need for attention)

We finally were divided into groups of five to make our way into the small alcove to be interviewed by an enthusiastic staffer.

Myim and Ariana were in each other's group--not mine--but I'm rooting for them both to get to the next level because I'm an altruistic soul with kick-ass puzzle skills.

I was the first to be interviewed in my group, which means I have no idea whether the fellow applicants thought they'd want to emulate me..or be the total opposite of me.

Jocelyn took my application with all its flowery details and told me I had thirty seconds.

I used them wisely.

Now..this is not verbatim, but I said I was a "word nerd who once got a 383 point score for a single word in Scrabble.."mezquits"--and then I went on to tell her I owned a singing telegram company but I have a terrible voice, which she would be hearing nanos seconds later.

I begin, with just a touch of smarminess, "I even wrote custom lyrics for the theme show of "Wheel of Fortune", music by Merv Griffin. (again..bragging about my pop culture trivia prowess) I begin to sing: "Here come Ryan and Vanna/"Wheel" fans in Savannah/even in Butte, Montana..have spun!"

I told her I had a whole other verse: "Spin the Wheel/with luck, it might reveal/a special prize..you'll squeal "look what I've won!")

The thing is, I didn't use the second verse because I knew my time was up, and Jocelyn said, "you had ten more seconds--which you used up explain why you thought you were running out of time."

So..was that adorable.. or am I toast?

Time will tell..

I either aced the interview, which means I'll by flying out to Sony Studios with some guests in a few months or so and have something new to add to the "Happiest Day of My Life List"-- or I'll just be that annoying old lady in the bright green shirt who gave everyone a headache.

Either outcome is one hundred percent likely.

I was the only person in my group who shook Jocelyn's hand..and I cheered for everyone else in my line as they tried to sell their life stories in thirty seconds and no, I didn't ask any of them if they cheated on the application by sneaking in facts you'd hear in the interview, although that sounds like something I WOULD do.

Wish me luck...and it's only 365 days until the next September 18th!

.

Breathless

I have been riding high in the afterglow from the happiest day of my life, Evan and Michelle’s wedding, when my husband gets an alert on his phone and utters these two words: “Jimmy Kimmel.”

Since my luck has been on the positive side lately, I thought he was going to say he scored tickets for when my Hall Pass comes to Brooklyn in a few weeks.

We’ve been waiting  for those tickets for years.

Jimmy Kimmel .

That sexy, sensitive hilarious host who makes me laugh and keeps me informed and who’s wakened my libido, four nights a week.

Who reminds me that hot macho men can weep openly on camera when an a-hole kills a beloved lion , Cecil, in a sanctuary on another continent, who had even  atheists praying for his beautiful brave little boy who went through three major heart surgeries.

He wasn’t even taping when we were in Los Angeles last summer, but I felt total reverence just being across the street, looking at his studio sign.

 I feel like somebody didn’t just take an icon off of the air, they took actual air out of my lungs.

This is beyond frightening.

Momma Mia.. Here we go again

 

Oops.

They did it again.

Well..WE did.

WE did a thing.

Again.

They did too

Again.

The tables were tight..(there were less than five dozen..)

some colleagues from work..a handful of cousins

a few family pals and his close  college friends

And Sunday's a FUNDAY (since my sibs could attend!!)

the venue was tiny..the dream's from a fable

as newlyweds beamed from the own "sweethearts' table

But size doesn't matter..so goes the cliche..

the spirit was huge on this fabulous day..

Yesterday we amassed to witness the union..the REunion..of Evan and Michelle.

As some of you may recall, their destination wedding happened last April, on a balmy Saturday night, in a Brooklyn palace, with unknown(to our party, but) very happy revelers, celebrating a variety of milestones. We experienced the uniquenes and joy of a typical Russian celebration..

embracing a culture and a magic that came straight out of the beloved animated Disney classic, "Anastasia."

It was so nice that we did it twice.

The cocktail room in the  venue was the size of a Kardashian closet,(and just as stunning), a local Italian banquet hall with a picturesque outdoor garden that transported our guests into a village in Tuscany.  

The ceremony took place in a garden, where the  intoxicating scent of tomatoes and peppers and Italian spices perfumed the air. 

 And here's a great time to mention that my two and a half year old great-nephew, Asher,  couldn't keep his hands off of an enormous dangling squash, and the dirty jokes his grandfather, (aka "abba", aka my brother, Steven) cracked at the image that hopefully someone caught on camera, but more on that later. 

We chose this venue because of their access to outside glatt kosher catering, pleasing the palettes of my observant family who were able to travel, since the big event was held on a  Sunday and not on Shabbat.  

 The timing worked out perfectly as well for one of the  the groom's childhood friends, Jimmy,  who is proudly serving our country overseas, but who was able to  attend this event with his wife, Rachel,  and their  five month old son, the adorable Jonathan McNamara, who danced pretty much every dance with them.

There were no frills per se on this second go ..no exotic candleabras adorning the tables, no ornate drapery,  no decorated flowers on the delicious chocolate cake.   The couple rode in  their cars instead of limousines, but they might as well have been arriving in Cinderella's golden carriage.  

(The Brooklyn wedding had transportation that resulted in  a memorable wedding hightlight, as we all soaked in the memories of the wonderful evening that took a busload of we weary partiers back to New Jersey in the incredibly early  hours of the morning.)

If we could not include you in the celebration due to space constraints, please be aware that we sensed your presence in spirit. 

 Deep in our hearts.

We felt the love and we return it in droves.

For those of you who enjoyed my wedding recap last spring, if you got the time..I got the sequel. 

November 5th, 1989

July 23rd, 1995

September 14th, 2025(and April 26)

Save for  when my personal favorite won the Oscar,  or I had the best well-marbled steak I've ever had, or winning that first gold medal in a Woodloch Scavenger Hunt, the above dates mean one thing only:

They're all the happiest day of my life.

The BIG Ones.

The ones that when I take my last breath on this planet, if I can still breathe and still think, will make me grateful that I  ever graced this Earth to begin with.

My marriage to Jim.

The birth of my only child.

The wedding of Evan and Michelle.

The day started off with me obsessively checking and rechecking  the weather, so grateful that the forecast showed no rain but most of us got sdoaked anyway--in our own perspiration--and most of us would do it again in that heat in order to witness that beautiful ceremony we witnessed.

After obsessing about the weather and ordering virtually everyone I know to promise to DO "something" about it,  (???!!!!)I made a trip to India to have my makeup professionally applied.

And yep, with my seventieth birthday just a few months away, I probably WOULD have traveled to Mumbai to look youthful and be a prettier version of myself, but this India is  the name of the talented cosmetologist just minutes away, who, along with  her co-worker, Margie, turned the matted mess that takes up residence on my scalp into a work of art.

And once again, my sister/neighbor Tami, my lifeline to fashion and sanity, picked out my dress that was red-carpet worthy, a shimmering silver gown and bejeweled ballet slippers that I could actually walk in.  Her mom, Evelyn, is just as gifted, lending me her stunning silver clutch and clip on earrings, plus a beautiful necklace that I wore backwards because Jim put it on me and we're both clueless, until Evelyn adjusted it and..omg!!  I don't know how much longer I can pull off being a girly  girl!  Being a fashionista was unique and wonderful, a cinderella story that lasted a whole day, and why am I talking so much about Me, Myself, and What I Wore??  You're probably already tired of reading something this length by now.

Soon after a visit to the glam squad, Jim and I stopped by the restaurant to drop off our LG flat screen TV that would be used for our big surprise in the upcoming hours.  

I will eventually get around to posting the actual presentation of said surprise, but I'll say this  for now: I  wrote special lyrics to one of Michelle's favorite songs, "Dancing Queen" that was used in both wedding's  processionals. 

 Jim worked with the deejay on perfecting the presentation from a technical standpoint, and the music that brought the entire room to tears and laughter would not have happened without the amazing vocal talent of Rachel Toner, a performer who's known across the pond as "Sandy Bloomers." 

 We befriended Rachel and her family on our 2017 European cruise.

 She hails from Darwen in the UK and her distinct British pronounciation of certain words only made the song that much more well received.  Thanks, Rach!!

We sweated bullets once we found out that Evan planned to get dressed in our house before heading literally up the street to the magnificent Piazza di Roma, certain that the surprise would be blown because he'd noticed the absence of the livingroom  TV..but he never did.

 Nervous pacing and adjusting bowties certainly has it's benefits for the oblivious.

We've driven by this restaurant almost daily in the thirty years we've lived in our current home, but it never dawned on us to one day throw a wedding in an Italian eatery, but it should have.  Not only could they accomodate the seven members of our kosher crew, they anticipated every need for everyone  before we even knew we had them.

Rosalia and Mike have been running this establishment like a well oiled machine, their glowing reviews on line actually downplay how amazing it actually is.  From the TLC of the attentive staff to the breath taking outdoor garden,  to the scrumptious Italian cuisine, this is the place where beautiful memories are made to last forever..the ones that never leave your soul, even during your most cynical hours.

This blog is getting too long, even by my crazy standards, so let me try to highlight the highlights, although there's no guarantee that's going to be a reasonable length either.

I'm still on a high. 

Floating way above the clouds.

A drone would probably pinpoint my location in the sky, a drone demanded..er..requested..by my brother's seven year old grandson, Eyli, who was the reluctant ring-bearer with eyes set on a great bridal party member gift.. in the form of an actual  drone.

Eyli might have opined that the ceremony was "long and boring, a bit from his non-stop comedy routine,  but it was anything but.  

The couple hired a secular officiant who not only encouraged flash photography and videography, she encouraged laughter and irreverence and shouts of "woo hoo!". 

 And even though some of us witnessed the exchange of vows last April(my niece Marissa, and Evan's two roommates from Rutgers, Matt and Chin) nobody seemed bored by the repeat. 

 Tears flowed, laughter was in abundance..and seeing Evan's millenial friends overwhelmed with visible  emotion made me grateful that I entered this wonderful thing called motherhood some thirty years ago.

 The officiant, Dee, turned a usually sacred event into a mini rom-com..an unforgettable one.  I don't think I've ever cried, laughed,( or sweated) that much before in my life.

A special highlight for me(well, there were many, but I'm only going to discuss this one before my fingers fall off) was the reenactment of something that happened in August of 2008, something that would have made the list of the happiest days of my life if we hadn't trusted so many inept professionals, (like the videographer who totally botched the video) 

Namely, Evan's bar mitzvah.

I honored the couples’ request to keep things low key..no tossing of garters or bouquets, no mushy father/daughter or mother/son dance, but my sister-friend neighor, Tami, remembered how Evan and I danced to "Seasons of Love" (from "Rent") when he was the thirteen year old celebrating becoming a man, and asked the deejay to play it again. 

 The room was too noisy for me to hear her special request and  the deejay's announcement, but Evan heard it, secretly thanking(I think??) Tami, as he  agreed to dance to that terrific song.  This time I actually prayed a little that we WOULDN'T get the videography, a painful reminder of the aforementioned bar mitzvah ceremony, because  with my dancing skills, I make Elaine Benes look like Ginger Rogers. 

But I seriously didn't care what I looked like in that shimmering silver.

 I only cared that my son knows how proud I am of him..how deep my love for him runs.

But we danced..and everyone danced..including the relucatant ring bearer, and his mature-beyond belief sister, Shoshana, who was actually honored to be in the wedding party.  Shoshanna, in her blue princess dress, loved her responsibilty, and loved that Evan and Michelle chose "Popular" from her favorite movie, "Wicked" as the bridal party was introduced to the enthusiastic crowd.

We had dancers, we had gourmands, we had strangers becoming fast friends at the beautifully decorated tables, we had chicken francaise and broiled salmon and eggplant, all of which I was too nervous to eat.  We had slow dancers and jivers and laughter and reminiscing.

We had Evan's childhood best friend, Matt, give a speech that could be heard by everyone(the one he delivered at the April reception was recorded privately by the videographer) that highlighted his smarts and wit and quirks and loyalty. People that barely knew who Evan is certainly got enlightened, in a joyous and educational  way.

We had a speech delivered by Jim that was right out of toastmaster ceremony. 

We had it all.

We had a ball..

I couldn't sleep a wink on the day of the wedding, but now I don't think I'll ever stop sleeping..because sleeping means a chance to relive every moment of that day in a special, vivid way, in literal dreams.

It was the happiest day of my life.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels that way.

Golden agers at the golden age of broadway

In exactly seventy-five minutes, and (exactly!) six months from now, I will start my seventh decade of life, and I'll be doing what septuagenarians do, which is  something  like what we did tonight, which turned out to be yet again a fantastic evening at theJersey Shore Arts Center in Ocean Grove New Jersey.

Tonight we joined the Geritol  set, with the grey hair and sagging boobs(but that's enough TMI about my husband) as their walkers and canes braved  the creaky floors in the old, historical auditorium of the former Neptune High School.  We were there for improv comedy just a few weeks ago, because at our age, we have to think outside the box and see something other than popcorn movies on date night, mostly because we can't digest popcorn anymore.

The auditorium was as old as the audience who put their aging butts in the seats, with that pleasantly musty smell of your grandmother's basement, summer camp, and what I imagine the staterooms smelled like for third class passengers on the Titanic.

We kind of assessed what the crowd would be like over a delicious New Orleans style dinner at a popular restaurant across from the theater, simply because the title of the show was "The Golden Age of Broadway."

Jim observed:  "No matter how great the performers are tonight, they're not getting a standing ovation because..well..who's going to actually stand?"

Once we were actually inside the building, observing the eerie clown paintings that decked the corridors, the snark continued as he whispered to me, "Wanna bet the EMTs are going to be called in before intermission?  I'm thinking it'll be for something from "Oklahoma!"  which made me snap back, "Yep..I'm putting money on "Poor Judd Is Dead"

But despite all our not particularly warranted  sarcasm, which in reality is  closeted self-deprecation since we're part of the Medicare crowd ourselves, the show, "The Golden Age of Broadway" starring Dakota and Elle, was in a word..magnificent.

Don't bother googling Dakota and Elle..you'll just be directed to  acting's Fanning sisters, but trust me when I tell you this singing duo were just remarkable.

 They did twenty five songs from Broadway hits from the forties through the sixties..all songs we knew.  All songs we recognized.  (I was a little fuzzy on Elle's aria from "Candide" until I recognized the bridge as the theme song from "The Dick Cavett Show" and it brought me back to all the sex dreams I had with my intellectual crush as a high school junior)

Jim thought of his parents..putting in storm windows while listening to all the great songs from "Carousel" and "Brigadoon."  I thought of my parents too..well, my mom, mostly, who instilled the same love of Broadway and snark in me that Randy Rainbow's mom obviously did for him.  

My Dad didn't care for Broadway  unless Rodgers and Hammerstein were secretly  auditioning for the Philadelphia Eagles.

They refer to themselves as New Jersey's favorite tenor and soprano(and I could picture David Chase disrupting the performance, insisting that she, Elle,  was NOT New Jersey's MOST famous "Soprano") and they were phenomenal, with former Disney Princess Star Elle channeling Chenoweth, and Dakota bringing back Robert Goulet.

We smiled, we teared up, we nudged each other, predicting what song we think would be next up once the name of the musical was revealed. 

These songs have always meant so much to me personally..whether it was hearing Sondheim on the old record player while playing Scrabble with my Mom, or exposing our now thirty year old son to "Broadway Kids" songs during all those long car rides to Maine when he was little.

 I thought about  all the parodies I've written singing telegrams to for decades: of summer camp, where Joyce Stein would choreograph all those female  Tevyes and Jewish Maria Von Trapps into star-caliber performances. 

Tonight's show reminded me of schlepping on buses in the rain to borrow cast albums from my friend's parents' vast collection, as Jim and I sat with a tape recorder(the only available device in 1989) to find the perfect song to match the perfect photo for the slide show we presented to his parents for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. There wasn't a dry eye in the house at that party..where so many in attendance had family ties to real Broadway stars, like Isabel Bigley (Sara Brown from "Guys and Dolls") and Jonathan Freeman (Mr. Bratt from "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying" plus his Tony-nominated performance as the waiter in "She Loves Me", revived on Broadway in 1994)

Dakota and Elle charmed us with their vocal talents, wonderful costumes, and wicked senses of humor.  (Alas, no songs from "Wicked" were performed..The Green and Pink movie is not part of the Golden Age on the Great White Way) But their stories were indeed colorful.

 They shared a lot of personal stories and anecdotes that had the audiences in stitches..which, to be fair, might have been the gall bladder surgeries that a majority of them had just a few weeks before venturing out tonight..

Geriatric jokes aside, this was a fabulous way to spend date night and I suggest you catch the act next time they're in town.  

Tickets are reasonably priced and you'll walk to your car singing..and convinced you've been reincarnated as a gay man.

And when Jim and I reminisce about this evening fifteen years from now, we'll look at each other with blank faces, and I'll say.."Try to remember that time.. in September.."

He'll snap his fingers and say: "It was in July..and it was FANTASTIK!"

Evan’s big 3-0

Three decades ago yesterday, my bladder awakened me in the "wee" hours of the morning(yeah, I went there) as it continues to do  today.

I groggily flipped on the bathroom switch when I felt a sudden gush, thinking, "wow..I'm more tired than I thought at five in the morning.. I'm missed!"

A cranky Jim woke up, looked at me, looked at the puddle, and said, "that was no boating accident..that was a shark!"

What he actually said was:

 "that was no accident..I think your water just broke."

Five minutes later, he's on the phone.

Ten minutes later, we're in the car, en route to CentraState Hospital in Freehold, and some thirty seven hours later, Evan Daniel Amster was in my arms and in our hearts.

I don't know why I had to labor so long when the C-section was inevitable. 

 Dr. DeNino had examined me three weeks earlier, saying this procedure  would be a probability, because "You are so tight" to which I snarkily replied, "oh yeah?  Then how come I wasn't more popular in college?"

Flash forward to Sunday, July 23rd, at 4:20 PM, when our crying little peanut boy entered the world and set the stage for greatness.

He was immediately placed on my swollen belly for a few seconds and I thought, irrationally, "No fair!  He looks like Gertie!" as he was whisked away.

(That was the pain talking. My late mother-in-law, Gertrude Amster, was quite the looker)

Thirty years later, I look at Evan and think to myself, "for once in my life..I think I did something right..because Evan's in it, in a leading role."

Thoughtful and hilarious with good looks in that Zac Efron-ish style, gifted with his near perfect impressions of anyone from Bernie Sanders to Ben Shapiro.

His wit is keen and observational, his memory, outstanding.

At three, he could name every state in both alphabetical and Union order, plus capitals and largest cities.

In his twenties, he could recite full passages from "Pulp Fiction" and "The Room" or from past family vacations when hilarity and insanity  ensued.

And just last weekend, he was both guest of honor and host  at his pool party, where the weather cooperated but the house  flies did not, where he was gracious and appreciative for all the loved ones who helped him celebrate. 

 From the fabulous array of delectable dishes, (yep..gonna brag about my shish kebab and his mother-in-law, Rita's,  beautiful cake, a masterpiece in fine art) to the chaos, (YOU try and organize a pool game with 100 conversations going on at once, plus guests who didn't want to get wet, but didn't want to get over-heated either, to trying to decide if the cake should be cut inside, where wet guests shivered because of the A/C, but dry guests feared the ice cream would melt outside)to amazing gifts and compliments.

The best gift of all came from his bride Michelle, and I'm not just talking about the heart and life she shares with him daily. 

 I'm talking about the creativity and effort she put into developing  a personalized boxed game, all about Evan, from trivia to playing cards with photos of family(even Luke!) to cards that begged for captions.  It was the best gift I think I've ever seen in my life!

Happy birthday to our wonderful son, a perfect match for the marvelous Michelle.

May Evan one day be the kind of Dad Jim is..what a role model!

The  signs are already there when you see how he interacts with my nephew's three  children.

Michelle is the lucky recipient of the gold medal..Jim gets the silver(deservedly so--thanks, sports and politics/current events talks!) and I proudly wear my coveted bronze.

Being your Mom is more precious than all these three metals combined.

We love you to the moon and back.

Thank you, Sal Saperstein!!

Comedy in the grove

Sometimes, thinking outside of the box is as exciting as unwrapping one eagerly to discover its contents.

Date night has always been such a crucial part of our almost forty year relationship, but because we're film fanatics, we often think that a trip to the cinema is our only option, which is why we're often stuck ingesting pretentious garbage like "The Phoenician Scheme."

Big Brother is reading my mind, apparently, because my phone is suddenly filled with alternative choices for  weekend fun..

Last week, it was the Elton John impersonator in Asbury Park, where smelling the salt air and the salty bodies of an overcrowded boardwalk let  you know with one hundred percent certainly that summer is here to stay.

This week, we decided to give improvisational comedy a whirl, but it wasn't the kind that we usually schlep into New York to see, "Chicago City Limits", that has always set the standard for ad libbed gold. 

 Nor was it like the time we saw Colin Mocherie and Brad Sherwood, superstars from "Whose Line is it Anyway?" plying their craft so professionally to a large audience in an onrnately decorated theater.

This was a local troupe called "ComedySportz" who perform weekly in Ocean Grove, a thirty minute drive from our home.  They're apparently a national group and the venues are often strange and unconventional.

This  venue was no exception.

The old building had lots of character and lots of creaking, with a layout you find in those weird dreams you have when a familiar setting looks totally unfamiliar, with a smell that was part Titanic stateroom and part your grandmother's basement..pleasantly musty. Scary clown paintings decorated the aging corridors and we finally found our way to the theater, after navigating  dark and creepy mazes,  which looked like it was at one time a funeral parlor for circus freaks..

The emcee told us the building once was used as a high school for residents of Neptune, New Jersey, and I boasted to Jim that it's the  alma mater of both Jack Nicholson and Danny DeVito--I was wrong on both counts.

But the show itself, "ComedySportz" was kind of weirdly wonderful, and it was unlike anything we've seen before.

It would be a great way to spend time with a group of creative friends, but tonight, it was just the two of us, thinking outside our boxes.

First of all, it was run like a competitive sporting event, with two teams of three facing off  with various events under the watchful eye of a talented and witty referee named Nicole.

I love when improv groups are sticklers for exactness.."the" is unacceptable if the word you're going for is "this."  The strictness--or "THIS" strictness..might seem anal but it's not..it's just challenging and fun and it makes the actors visibly lose it on stage..  Some of the humor was lightning quick and some was sophomoric, but we laughed a lot..and our contributions were meaningful.

After the show, we went to Ocean Grove's most famous establishment,  Day's Ice Cream, with long lines and even longer lists of flavors,  Everyone has a designer dog and an appetite for weird concoctions  like "Trash Can."

The town itself is very charming, with a town square right out of Stars Hollow, Connecticut, home of my Gilmore Girls.

Music could be heard from every corner, and the houses are tiny but functional, including the infamous tent houses called yurts that look like  they could hold maybe a person and a half.  Maybe half a shih tzu.

Sunburn..the lingering smell of useless sunscreen..loud music that makes you want to shut up and dance..exotic ice cream flavors...tanned perfect bodies wearing short shorts...

In summary, it doesn't get any more summery than this. 

It just takes a little thinking outside of the box.