A Night in Sellersville

​Wow.. that was a long time coming!!

And worth every second of the  seemingly endless wait.

I hadn’t seen my BFF Rochelle nor  her husband, Andy, since Evan’s September wedding, but this was the perfect night.

Perfect timing.

Perfect weather.

Wonderful meal,  hilarious conversation, elegant ambiance, and best of all, meeting my idol. 

I had been a fan of comedic genius Craig Shoemaker for a couple of decades now, and I’ve spent most of those decades trying to figure out my personal connection to him. 

I narrowed it down to when I wrote personalized lyrics for the Singing Telegram Company of Philadelphia,  where I “ think” I first made his acquaintance, or possibly when  I donated a kidney to him. 

I know he was in the same  high school homeroom as my fabulously talented colleague, Carole, but the connection is still vague.. or it’s all in my head and I just made everything up. . 

But anyway, last Oscar season, he randomly showed up on my wall, like an intuitive butterfly, as  I discovered we shared a  single brain, and ideas about what Academy Award season has meant to us personally. 

And then I discover a  lot more common ties than knowing all the nominees for Best Documentary Shorts, and the repartee has been ongoing ever since. 

He’s at the max for Facebook friends, but he’s still showing up on that proverbial wall, and he’s inspired me to post anything that pops into my warped mind.. without a filter. 

( our  running gag this week involved the glasses I lost in the Atlantic, some seventy five miles north of where he was vacationing with his family, and my insistence that if he recovered them, I’d be able to see his soul)

I thought I had the perfect ice breaker when it was time to meet, asking “ so did you ever find my fucking glasses?” which is a weird opener, since someone had literally just  lost their glasses during the show, leading him to surmise the crazy lady in the pink top was the original owner.

I reminded him of all the comments I’ve been posting since Oscar season, and he asked me if I was a virgin, which is something most fans of the golden statuette ask me on a regular basis, and then he told Jim that I am a “ character” , the subtext being “ in a horror novel.”

The meet and greet was quick but memorable, the meal was delicious, and we’re now overnighting in this very classy hotel because night driving is off the table. 

Another night of summer magic!! 

And of course, because he’s an admitted fan of Broadway musicals with a voice like Hugh Jackman, he inspired me to write the following:

Shoemaker, Shoemaker

Oh, what  a show!

You gotta go!

Trust me, I KNOW!!

I will detail in my next paragraphs 

My night of a million laughs!

Joined my best friend there,

Her name is Rochelle 

Her husband went .. mine did as well 

Had a great dinner.. our fun motley crew 

And Craig.. it’s because of you!!

Your jokes were

Fresh and exciting!

The folks were

Glad you work mostly clean 

Some “wokes” were

Loving your writing 

( Your Mama didn’t raise you to be obscene)

Gut busting laughter.. we’re so glad we went..

No doubt that was.. money well spent!

So glad you popped up 

on Facebook last spring..

So random.. but kid,

So glad you did!

If not.. we’d miss

Something like this!!

And not know you!! 

( G-d forbid!!) 

( now we just have to recruit some of Tevye’s daughters to bring this to life)

A Grooming Tail

​Well..here's a bit of mundane minutia that I'm going to try to turn into a readable  blog.

Let's see if I succeed.

Tonight we're celebrating Evan's birthday, and Saturday night I'm seeing my BFF for dinner and a show..haven't seen her since Evan's wedding in September.

Okay..these details are already superfluous so let's get to the nitty gritty

So because of these special occasions, I decided to go for a mani/pedi today, which autocorrect first presented  as "manicotti", which I almost kept, because autocorrect is a raving lunatic.

I'm at the manicurist's station, and the woman next to me is having her nails  done as well.

  She seemed reluctant to talk to her "Madge"  and  told her she wasn't "doing well and didn't want to talk about it" and if you gave her the side eye, you could see she was clearly upset.

She then begins to open up, and says she's devastated because her family just had to make the painful decision of putting their  dog to sleep. 

 She's sharing all the horrible details, and I just wanted to reach out and hug her.

Well..that would have been weird to offer physical comfort to a stranger, especially with wet nails, so I decided to do what I do best by offering verbal words of wisdom.

I say, "I don't mean to eavesdrop..but we just went through this in March. It was so hard, but when we realized we were ending his suffering, not his life, it was so much easier..."

She nodded, and I add:  "He was in such bad shape and it wasn't even  his first brush with death.  Last August, he had just returned from the groomer when he was let outside to do his business, and he somehow managed to squeeze through the slots of a very secure gate.  Our sixteen and a half year old poodle almost drowned that day but lived another seven months and.."

The woman stared at me and said, "You're Luke's Mom??"

I had no idea who she was until she identified herself:

"I'm Heather.  I am  that  groomer you just talked about"

I didn't recognize her because Jim did all the drop offs, but what a coincidental  story about my fur baby,  shared on the thirty-first  birthday of my real baby.

She went on to say that Luke was her last pure-bred poodle, as they're all now Yorkipoos and Morkipoos and piles of poo.

(That last one came from me)

We both laughed as we remembered all the scars Jim bore when he was stupid enough to  try to give him a  new toy.

Heather remembers him as tough at first, then sweet and mellow for nearly  a decade,  until the incontinence and dementia set it.

(I'm talking about Luke, not Jim)

There's something about dog owners..we're all just six degrees of separation, aren't we??

Just a mere Bonaparte...

 

.

A day with Larry / A night with the Beatles

Episode four, season one,  of “Life, Larry, and the Pursuit of Unhappiness” was side splittingly hilarious, especially the  spoof of Watergate. 

What a fun way to spend this evening.

That was not a misspeak.. it is pitch black here in Monmouth County,  New Jersey.

The clock reads 1:46 PM but it’s total blackness out there. 

I guess it beats the bright orange sky we’ve been seeing since Thursday. 

And it beats explosive diarrhea.

But I miss those days when the quintessential answer to the most obvious question in the world was always, “ yes” 

( as in “ is the sky is blue?”)

What’s next??

We’ll find out the Pope  isn’t Catholic?

Or that  bear doesn’t sh*t in the woods??

( unless he just consumed some lettuce from Taco  Bell)

Or.. I know!!!

People will be shocked to discover the word “dumb” has a silent “b?”

Don’t listen to me today.. my spare glasses are giving me double vision so I don’t even know what  I’m saying or typing. 

My specs are living it up at the bottom of the Atlantic,  while I try to make use of all the other senses I was born with. 

Catch Larry for some genuine laughs. 

I don’t think Cheryl Hines will  make any  guest appearances after the way her better half was destroyed by her former tv husband.

So...once again, we think outside the box, take ourselves out of our comfort zone of a mediocre movie at a local theater, , and had a wonderful and unexpected night as we ventured off to The Vogel Theater in Red Bank for the second weekend in a row.

There were torrential downpours in town tonight..everyone arrived at the theater looking and feeling like drowned rats.

You know the situation is dire when a perfect stranger approaches your table and says, "I'm not sure if I just had an accident or not, that's how wet my pants are."

Tonight's show was phenomenal..

A local Beatles cover band called "Wag."

Their voices were spectacular..they captured every lyric with nuanced perfection.

The costumes!

The sets!

The vibe!

It's nirvana for Boomers like us, as vintage clips from the first appearance by the Fab Four on the Ed Sullivan show appeared on the big screen, including authentic commercials for products that nobody uses anymore.

Fans were dancing in the aisles, singing along to every familiar tune(which was EVERY tune) and becoming fast friends during intermission and before the show's start.

We were seated with friends Linda and Rosie, and we tell them this is the second week in a row visiting this theater, as we had just seen a one-man Groucho Marx show.

Rosie tells us that she saw a production of a Groucho show on Broadway that her cousin was in..her cousin even won an award.

I perk up and say, "oh..did he play Groucho? Would we recognize his name?"

She replies, "no..SHE did..My cousin won a Tony award for playing Harpo in "A Day in Hollywood../a Night in the Ukraine"..you may have heard of her?? Priscilla Lopez??"

I'm star struck, and I respond, "I love Priscilla, but I thought she won for playing Diana Morales in 'A Chorus Line.'"

"No." Rosie corrects me.."She was nominated, but she won for "A Day in Hollywood."

I'm telling her how much I loved Priscilla's solos.."What I Did For Love" and "Nothing", and  Rosie tells me how down to Earth her cousin is, and how much they love just "hanging out."

She continues.."And I've socialized a lot with her best friend from the cast.  Do you remember the dancer who played Sheila.."

I cut her off immediately.

Do I remember Sheila??!!!

Played by the marvelous Carole Bishop..who changed her name to..Kelly Bishop??

As in..Kelly Bishop who played Emily GILMORE Kelly Bishop??!!

"Yup, " Rosie laughed..."That's her..why..were you a big fan of "Gilmore Girls" or something?"

It's like she injected pure joy into my heart that took effect immediately.

The most Emmy-deserving actress(besides Lauren Graham herself) from my favorite show of all time..and I'm sitting with her buddy???

Beatles! Bishop! Broadway!!

The evening was magical and perfect...even rain wasn't going to rain on my parade tonight.

And best of all..the sun will come out..tomorrow.​

The High Sees

​I’ve missed you,Belmar beach!!

Finally back.. it’s hazy. 

It’s cloudy. 

It’s empty. 

But there’s an ocean breeze.

And parking was a breeze. 

It’s not hot at all, but if it was hot, I’d be non-stop complaining about how hot it is. 

And if it gets hot,we’re thirty minutes away from our pool.

And seven seconds away from the actual ocean, but you know me.. I’m irrational and I’m high maintenance. 

A deadly combo.

And  a deadly combo is what I’ll order for lunch because we’re here, damnit!    

And I don’t care if I’m not hungry or not hot, I’m braving the waves  and giving Joey Chestnut a run for  his money. 

It’s just a matter of time,

Wanna bet I still don’t open my kindle??

This is not funny. 

Not all my blogs are funny, even the ones that are supposed to be funny.

This is the unfunniest.

This is the Carrot Top of Karen  Amster blogs. 

I needed my beach fix today.. desperately.

The sun is peeking through the haze. 

The sunscreen smells intoxicating, like it always does. 

We split a Philly cheesesteak and ignored the rude seagulls begging for morsels.

We return to our comfy, high back chairs and the sun finally feels strong. 

The waves look gentle and the kids are frolicking.

Perfect time for them to frolic and for me to.. let’s just say.. get rid of  some of the pink lemonade we shared at lunch like we were freakin’ Danny Zukko and Sandy Olsen. 

We’re holding hands like teenagers.. teenagers where the guy yells at the girl to grab the arm that wasn’t damaged in that fall in early June.

But the girl is dyslexic and mixing up the good arm from the not so good arm.

The waves ate the girl  ( aka  “me”) up like her mom would  eat a whole  plastic pumpkin full of Snickers bars before a single trick-or-treater arrived on Halloween night.

I was a dryer sheet in the tumble cycle. 

I didn’t get to answer Nature’s Call. 

And my glasses are gone for good. 

The ones I’m too vain to wear in photos. 

So if I’m typing complete illegible gibberish today, well.. how is this day any different than any other day??

A lifeguard pulled me up. 

Jim strained a muscle pulling me up.

I begged the lifeguard to look for my glasses, but I think he snickered at me. 

I’m not sure if a seagull just hobbled by or a penguin. 

It might have been a nun. 

I cannot see a freaking thing. 

But….

I got my beach fix!!

I probably have a spare pair at home.. but I’m going to need my glasses to find them.

And no, I’m not posting video of a myopic me trying to make my way back to the car. 

Unless you really want to see it. 

Rub it in, bitches.. the fact that you can still see because YOUR glasses aren’t at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

As my  every day glasses enjoy their burial at sea today, I am frustrated beyond belief.

Yes.. I found spares. 

Old pairs of them.

In hard, soft, and impossible to open cases. 

Probably  more than a half a dozen or so, hiding in my handbag, top drawer in my end table, even  in an old beach bag.

( I never denied being a hopeless hoarder) 

The issue  is.. ever since we drove home from the beach , as I admired all the blobs and blurry landmarks that dotted the highway , I tried on all the spares and it’s turned into one long and horrifying day at the ophthalmologist.  

( and screw you, autocorrect!! I knew how to spell that without your interference!)

What’s better?? 

The opaque frames or the pinkish ones?

Are images clearer with the oval lenses or the rectangles?

A or B??

I have no freaking idea!! 

They ALL give me very clear/ very unclear vision. 

I have no idea what’s the better option and it’s too much pressure to force me to choose the best pair.

They’re all great.

They’re all awful.

I’ve never seen this clearly and poorly at the same time. 

Any volunteers to dive into the cold waters between nineteenth and sixteenth streets in Belmar to find my original frames??

You know, the ones Jim krazy-glued a few months ago when a lens went AWOL without warning?? 

I can’t see too well out of them either, but at least I was familiar with them. 

I can’t read small text with them or subtitles in movies theaters where I fall asleep, but at least they were… there. 

I’m going to change glasses as much as most people change underwear this week. 

Hopefully, nobody will notice..

Hello I must be going

​It’s intermission for “An Afternoon With Groucho” 

and it’s terrific!! 

Frank Ferrante is channeling him to perfection.

 The audience is packed, and enjoying every moment of his frenetic, flawless performance. 

I remember watching so many  Marx Brothers movies with my family.. my dad in particular loved him. 

And there was always a marathon playing on a college campus. 

I wonder if they’d still play in Peoria. 

The only comic the younger generation has been exposed to with this kind of chaotic energy is Robin Williams, who we lost twelve years ago, so even his exposure isn’t where it should be. 

What a performance!!

Weirdly,the piano playing, Italian speaking brother is pronounced “ Chick-o” in this show. I always thought it was “Cheek-o.”

But what do I know?

My favorite Marx Brother was always Karl.

Did the movie start?

​The house thermostat registered at eighty four degrees.

Breathing is a luxury.

But it’s Fourth of July, damn it! 

I want to celebrate!!

Which we did…  we enjoyed a nice rib dinner  at the best BBQ place in the state.

We then go to see a fairly late showing of “Toy Story Five.”

The air conditioning was divine!

The lounge chair was incredibly comfy!

The trailers were exciting, but the opening credits took forever.

I nudge Jim and say, “ these are really long opening credits!! When is the movie starting?”

He answers, “ these are closing credits Karen. You missed the whole movie “

See what happens from heat exhaustion??

Buzz Lightyear was my Propofol!

Like winning the lottery

​For twenty two years now, I have had one and only one plan for when I win the multi million dollar jackpot.

It doesn’t involve splurging on  jewelry or cars or exploring uphill  cobblestones streets in ninety degree heat just for photo ops   at international landmarks.

It does not involve selfish joy, like winning the jackpot and taking every friend, family member , and Facebook connection( who give me charity “like” clicks)  to a Gilmore Girls convention because I love everything Lorelai.

Joy can’t be felt.. I mean, deeply felt, throughout every fiber of your being, unless it’s vicarious, which is a long, convoluted path to getting me back to my original point:

For twenty two years,  from the time we first came to Woodloch, I’ve been dreaming about gifting multigenerational loved ones this experience.

But the reality is.. it,a large group, can be kind of crazy and chaotic. 

Frustratingly so at times. 

Everyone is all over that smorgasbord line, arriving at different times, too distracted to enjoy any individual offering, too insane to even get a group picture. 

A spontaneous metaphoric food fight doesn’t seem terribly unlikely. 

There were thirty of us on this particular adventure,and I’m not sure I had more than a seven minute conversation with anyone but my husband.

You know what??

Ignore everything I just said.

I’m too lazy to delete but screw it.. I win that lotto, I’m still taking everyone to  this paradise! 

I even know whom I’m going to group with whom, who’s getting a master bedroom, who’s getting more than a quick hello from a very happy camper named Karen Amster.

Ugh.. thirty minutes until we have to check out so let me capture some highlights without too much hyperbole.

I didn’t win a single medal!! 

That’s a first!! 

( but Michelle did, in a Disney trivia game, and Jane’s cousins Corny and Roy did, in a Google game)

Our Thursday night tradition has always been a highlight, as we gather in a small room, after the evening show, for our last night, and play some kind of organized boxed game where hilarity is on  the menu. 

Try that with kids under five and adults over seventy, where everyone is whiny  and distracted and probably in need of a diaper change.

 When the crowd whittled down to a manageable seven of us, Jane’s terrific niece, Aimee, emceed a category game called “Slingz” .. a perfect party game if you want to diagnose how nuts your fellow gamers are.

But there will be laughter!

Gut busting laughter!

Okay.. let me highlight some things from the week.

One of the biggest  happy surprise came when my niece received a text from her bff (since first grade) late Wednesday afternoon.

Michael had a rare day off, and was able to come up for an overnight, and he was a fabulous addition to the cast, participating in all the goofy pool games and savoring every morsel at the cookout. 

Michael is in his thirties, like Marissa, but still knows how to live life as a joyful ten year old here, participating in everything. 

I’m glad he could be part of our private family boat ride, arranged at a nominal cost, as he enjoyed the shimmering lake, and the driver who captivated us with the history of the resort and the latest gossip. 

You’d think a game called “What’s Cooking!” Would be the perfect dish to serve my daughter-in-law, a talented chef. 

A self proclaimed foodie. 

She aced the first round, where ingredients were listed and  teams had to guess what the dish was. 

Another round showed clips from tv and movies centered around restaurants, and she earned a respectable amount of points.

But it was the round all about fast food that did her in.. like it does most Americans who consume it.

Okay, this post is getting as long and as unnecessary as a CVS receipt, so let me summarize as best as I can as we map out our last day.

Woodloch is all about family, and if you have one, and you love.. or even like them.. you belong here.

Whether you’re schmoozing with the gang under the hand hung twinkling lights or the stars courtesy of the universe, you can’t help but smile as you watch the children toast marshmallows over the open campfire, while a small group breaks off to play shuffleboard on the hill above you, or corn hole on the court below you. 

 You sit with the family who share your DNA and neurosises during the theme show, and weep  joyfully as you realize how proud you are to be an American.

You plan an early birthday celebration,  and write a custom song for a member of your adopted family( “Arthur’s Theme” is a fun melody to work with!) and you know the gratitude is sincere and the love is real.

We’ll enjoy this last day.. cooling off in the lake before heading out to a  nearby minor league baseball game with fireworks..

And feel like every day at Woodloch is the Fourth of July!

Because it is!!

Woochloch Forever!

​Woodloch!!

What luck!!

We’re back, with a hot and sunny weather forecast, silly and sunny  funny kids, and a jam packed schedule. 

I was a little nervous because the house we usually rent for  our reunion was unavailable this week. 

It’s  always been  reliable and it’s so pretty, on the golf course, but fitting five cars into that driveway built for one or two cars  at the bottom of what  is essentially a ditch, (even though I never once  personally drove there,)while trying to navigate trees and deer, was always just a tad  nerve wracking. 

This week we’re in  what could pass for  a Swiss chateau.. it’s magnificentl! 

And there’s ample parking without  obstacles!

Everyone gets their own bathroom, their own view of the woods, and their own story to tell about  watching a deer poop..while pooping with the blinds up because nobody but the deer is going to see how comfortable  and carefree  you are. 

The furnishings are rustic and cozy and warm as a cup of hot cocoa in a  frosty skating rink. 

Evan and Michelle’s room  even has a jacuzzi that looks like it could fit ten Norwegian wrestlers. 

You know? 

I’m not into numerology and I’m not a particularly suspicious person, ( okay.. I am) but we are in room 823 and when we were here this past February,we were in room 417.

( my father was born on August 23rd and died on April 17th)

But I won’t read into that( yeah.. sure I won’t ) because I have so much I want to capture.. so much immeasurable vicarious joy to share. 

I try to put these thoughts down daily, but that’s impossible because of the combination of unparalleled exhilaration and exhaustion I’ve been feeling at the end of the day, when I should be blogging,  and blessing whatever forces that got together and somehow decided I  am worthy of all of this good fortune.

Rural Pennsylvania is quite the mysterious animal.. you pass signs en route that say “ ask us about skinning your bear!” and then  moments later, you’re in an enchanted forest.

You’re swimming in a pristine lake, checking out the landscape, and thinking, “ wow.. that Mother Nature is SOME artist, isn’t she?”

You regret that you were too busy unpacking to play the hilarious Happy Hour game called “Mic Drop” but you know the days ahead will feel like weeks …of good natured competitive rivalry, gourmet dining, and a bottomless pit of gut busting laughter.

I was counting the hours until the house was filled to capacity with my nephew’s crew from Maryland, because the children arrive with their ear to ear smiles that make you a smiling kid again yourself. 

My great niece Shoshana is eleven and has the wisdom and sensitivity of a  beloved spiritual leader. 

She braved the mechanical bull last night and offered “ I didn’t want to ever regret NOT riding a mechanical bull when I had the chance to!” ( a philosophy we should all take note of) and she lasted just a few seconds under the time  of her eight year old brother Eyli,  who followed, both looking like this was clearly not their first rodeo.

You watch these two laugh and play and get soaked in chocolate sauce and shaving cream during the hilarious and messy “Double Dare” game earlier  in the afternoon and you think, “ life is so good. We should all live it like children  on a slip ‘n slide  do!”

( and that’s without even mentioning  the receipt of the highly recommended gift we gave their three year old sibling, Asher, a neon pink flamingo named Frank, who makes the most hilarious flatulent noises when squeezed in a certain way, just like most of us do)

I’m sitting here in this quiet living room, listening to the rustling of trees and the chirping of birds. 

I’m the first one up and will be the last to retire today, but I’ll wrap up now and  share fresh thoughts later on.

My sister in law Jane’s family  arrives today.. her siblings and cousins and nieces and  nephews and their kids.

I expect more chaos, tumult, photo ops, merriment, and joy.

Simple joy, with   details to follow.