"A-Team": Possibly a Chick Flick?

Wikipedia defines chick flick as “slang for a film designed to appeal to a female target audience. Although many types of films may be directed toward the female gender, "chick flick" is typically used only in reference to films that are heavy with emotion or contain themes that are relationship-based (though not necessarily romantic)". Well, let's examine if A-Team is more macho then cute...

When the movie starts you understand nothing, but the importance of a sun block. However, don't worry about wrinkling your forehead and straining the brain muscle, the plot will soon turn into a simple to follow story, no intellect abuse intended, I'd even add predictable, particularly if you are into betting – when you see who plays the role of a person of a high rank who later turns on The Team, you can't lose your bet, the actor has been type cast in such roles one too many times.

So, is it a guys movie? The cast of the hot four targets every taste category in the female audience. The hot four, no not Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda or Samantha, same time, different f...movie, I mean feature film: a different foursome of Hannibal, Face, Baracus and Murdock, flirt with you from the screen. Hannibal, played by Liam Neeson means business, no matter what he does or says. I suppose Mr. Neeson is one of those men of a rare breed when you can take a man out of nobility, but you can't take nobility out of a man. Baracus is a teddy bear you don't want to mess with. Murdock is a goof ball that every mother would hate and Face (Bradley Cooper) is a mischievous sleaze ball that every mother would love and so would her daughter.Thank G-d for the humor as the only way to take those guys seriously.

Jessica Biel, plays a DOD representative with a non sexy last name Sosa. I'm unaware of how much research Ms. Biel did for the movie, but as a true DOD representative you'd see her with the perfect red carpet styled hair at all times, although when it's gathered in pony tail it looks like she only has like 15 or 20 ( hairs). Naturally, she's running in designer stilettos and a trench coat around European airport, obviously, you didn't expect her to run around in Reeboks and Levi's, did you? When she talks to a CIA representative on the phone she sounds and looks in close up most professional as an opponent of 1-800-SEXMEUP hotline conversations worthy of $19.99 per minute. Well, I watch a lot of late night TV, so, yeah...that is exactly how I know about it.

Tricks shown in the movie are fun and timed to a dot, but don't attempt, no, absolutely don't think to attempt at home, although if you see how you can pull it off with so much gun fire, glass breaking and port explosions without any police, helicopters or any kind of security visible, then...well, might be fun to entertain or ask questions and demand answers as a law abiding citizen.

So, since whatever you experience watching the movie would be defined as an emotion, either fun, scorn or disbelief, then the movie is rather heavy with it...the emotion. Relationship based? Well, it is, of course, based on honor defending fun violent shtick connection among four fierce pals. O-oh (sigh )....Don't worry if you missed the movie this season, the ending is obviously left for the sequel. So, thumbs up? Na-ah...more like one, but cute, manicured with the cherry compote nail polish.

From the Devoted Fan of "Sex And The City".

Sunday night was the easiest planned girls' movie night, because to plan an evening off our families that suits each of us and our families is usually a challenge. But we were all eager to see so much awaited “Sex And The City”. A long thread of e-mails to plan this night mentioned something about the heels, but most of us appeared in weather appropriate attire and flats. How unfabulous of us, if you carefully later view the manual, aka “Sex And The City” regarding the desert fashion.

The audience was predominantly female. In the large movie theater you could spot the “Sex And The City” crowd from a distance. Ladies, and I mean it in the nicest way possible: we all completed numerous tests and were flattered by the results of being Carrie. Well, maybe in spirit. However, if you do not belong to a haute couture congregation and do not pray to the holy trinity of SJP's body, HBO's budget and the creative genius of Patricia Field, then you cannot pull this look off! If you are still a lost soul, then please consult your other friend Mirror Mirror on the Wall before leaving the house. Designer knock offs will not achieve this look, neither will a feathered bird: if it looks like it was purchased in the arts and crafts store, it's because it was meant for it. If you still attempt to craft your own hair accessory, then it needs to flatter the shape of your head, not pop out of it, as if it is about to tell the time every half an hour.

The movie starts with the best friends' wedding. The most gaylicious huppah I've ever seen! Liza Minnelli is the high light. However, the dialogues are written and played poorly and set the tone for the rest of the movie screaming sitcom. The best friends' characters are abruptly left there, thus existing for the sole purpose of adding more chic to over the top parallel life of the cast.

Good news: the fabulous four finally look their age! Close ups do not flatter. Bad news: much luck to all of us on looking that fierce at that damn age!

Karaoke scene is 5 minutes past ridiculous and believable much like any other portrayal of a New York housewife wondering around the house in stilettos and a house gown with a 4 feet long train. The scene of frustrated Charlotte baking perfect cup cakes in the pristine white chic kitchen wearing vintage Valentino on the background of two crying children brings back so many memories. I myself recently shouted impulsive profanities in front of my two children when my straight from the cat walk cream and black Chanel got smudged by the cloud of flour dust when I was baking hallah. I can see my husband raise a brow here: you bake hallah?!

Favorite moment: Charlotte and Miranda's conversation about motherhood over the cocktails. The only real and believable dialogue that got applause from the fans in the movie theater. I was tearing. For a brief moment, since down to earth scene only lasts that long.

Praise to the set designers! Wow! Fabulosity at its most chic grandiosity! Same goes to the casting director: I never thought I'd ever state so, but Arabs never looked better.

The movie is about marriage. Or so they'd claim to justify the sequel. If you saw the promo, you almost saw the movie. Concentrating on its stunning visual, the characters fail to develop or surprise the audience with either wit or their story line, thus remain predictable and the movie ends basically where it started, just with a better bling. With much devotion to the fabulous four, I would like to quote Mr. Seinfeld (or recap his words): it's best to leave at the peak.

A Message From The Other Side

I haven't been posting for over three months. My uneventful daily frustrations with …oh, who cares...didn't inspired me much for writing about anything of interest, which would turn out more like the notes from the asylum. So, I waited for something entertaining to happen to let the world know that I am still alive. In fact I reconfirmed it by going to the medium seance.

For years I have had an interest in afterlife. In fact, my graduation project was on the subject of reincarnation. Since my grandparents passed away I've been always wondering: do they watch after me and my family? Are they happy I named my children after them? Do they see us in the shower?

By chance, my friend told me of a medium who used to be popular, now retired, he performs seances in small groups at his home. Rather inexpensive. I watched such events on TV and was always curious as to how to find a way to participate on one of those seances. The opportunity presented itself on the 1^st day of passover, how fortunate, I thought!

The medium is British, his accent and a polite manner of speech will make you trust him even if he was telling you how much you resemble Angelina Jolie. Traditionally, there are two red haired cats wandering around the living room with the most adorable names from the classical literature.

The medium turned out to be even more talkative then I am. ( Note to self: contact Guinness World Records publishers). He brought us up to date about the world of mediums, the kinds, the amazing seances he witnessed and the even more amazing material on the subject that is available online. Every question asked by yours truly, apparently, I was the only curious in the group, threw the medium of to another mini lecture which brought more examples from the exciting lives of mediums and the evidence of the afterlife.

Naturally, the following information is not approved by Vatican. Guess what: based on the conversations with the dead, it is confirmed they lead a happy full and painless life which involves lovely houses, tea drinking and entertainment in the form of socializing with other dead people, theater and sports. I agree, it does sound like a relaxing vacation in the English countryside. However, the best news is: Ladies, if you die in old age, wrinkly and sick, it will not affect your social life after death, you can turn young and sassy again, the pain leaves and it is all in the state of your new mind how young you would like to look! So, congrats, finally, something to look forward to! Which brings me to another cunning idea. I recently stumbled upon a wise tweet: "Success and good looks are the best revenge!" Imagine all the fun of haunting your not so loved ones on Earth, after you get a makeover on the other side! Can hardly wait.

Addressing me, the medium mentioned correctly a few names, my city of origin, our current family situation and the most odd and unexpected, he named our nanny and ...her husband ( clearly pronouncing their Russian names), reconfirming their loyalty to us and our children. There was also another detail of my childhood that nobody but my grandparents or parents would know. I also witnessed the medium connecting to the families of nine other women in the group and much of it was quite astonishing.

I rushed back home to share my exhilarating information with my husband who suddenly appeared to be unimpressed and suspicious. I diagnosed the situation as an utopian hope to obtain the address of where to receive that desirable sum of money or the date it will appear at our doorstep.

I made a connection. I was not amazed though, but truly exhilarated. I feel that I was also expecting more or maybe it's just a selfish desire to receive more seance time and shamelessly talk more about me. I would return for more. There is hope for more fun then we anticipate after death. I did forget to inquire: are there any good boutiques? Undoubtedly, Ms. Chanel and Mr. Dior ought to do something to occupy their infinite leisure, don't they?

The Book of Eli: an Opinionated Point of View

Over the weekend we went to see the Book of Eli. Wasn't my choice. But what the friends are for? So, after the longest 2 hours I came upon a few conclusions:

 - Sepia is a new black and white for this season.

 - Danzel looks good even covered in filth and dust.

 - Don't cross Danzel: you might be a trained SWAT team member and you will still miss him shooting from 2 feet away. Danzel will not miss you shooting from any angle, block or distance.

 - End of civilization, about seven and a half people are left on Earth. Their fuse is short, I mean VERY short.

 - Denzel's fuze is shorter. Don't cross Denzel.

 -Dirt, ashes and dust cover the Earth. People kill for a sip of water. Filthy rotten teeth create an array of close ups for a dentist paradise. Denzel's teeth are blazing white.

 - Civilization is still at its end. Remnants of decades ago are torn, shabby, dusty and cracked. Not Denzel's shiny aviators.

 - Mila Kunis, kudos on getting a part against Denzel!

 - Civilization is almost buried, still water is close to gold in its current value. However, wax supply seems to be in order: Mila's eye brows are perfect, freshly shaped a la surprise look.

 - End of civilization is not a sufficient excuse for a homeless look: nothing prevents Mila from looking fab. Loved the aviators.

 - People are looking for the Book. They can't read.

 - Confirmed: civilization is lost, but not the eyewear fashion. Every tormented, filthy, thursty, greedy and hungry is equipped with a pair of stylish and dust repellent glasses that make them look like extras on Black Eye Peas video.

 - Re-confirmed: civilization at its end, nothing works or gets produced, but terror. However, Mila must be hooked up for a few necessities: she drives to the very west of the globe: San Francisco. Gas apparently is not of her concern.

 - The surprising transformation of Denzel's character can only be explained by a cataract developed due to the unsanitary conditions he's been enduring for his last 30 years. Wait, did I contradict myself and let you watch the movie and find out? Oh, well...I'll skip my "told you so" later.

  - Just to think that Meryl Streep was complicating something with Alec Baldwin next door...

 - If you get a deeper point of the script, please inform. Meanwhile, please go and get yourself a pair of stylish aviators. Seriously. Looks like the timeless good investment and a damn fierce look.

Meeting New Year in Russian

It happened to be our 10th meeting of the new year. We always had plans, either a party or a trip abroad, but we landed permanently after the arrival of our 1st baby four and a half years ago. However, that did not prevent us from celebrating the arrival of each new year since and we festively gathered a couple or two of friends, I cooked a very pretentious dinner, decorated the living room and our gourmet holiday table with candles and we devoured  the food with much laughter until the early morning hours.

The tradition was broken last year: after we bid the guests good bye at 4:00AM, my water broke. Our baby girl arrived on January 1st. I was a bit disappointed by her looks, but a nurse kindly reminded us about the benefits of a plastic surgery. I have to admit that within a few months I totally reconsidered and am still wondering where are those commercial casting people?!

As for our friends, they selfishly disregarded our lonely situation and decided to get a divorce. So, this year it was just us: my husband and I. We were eagerly waiting for our kids to go to sleep and have an evening to ourselves, parked on the sofa with the trays full of Russian style new year food: baked mayo-mustard chicken and “Olivie” salad, which is basically a potato salad , but that makes it sound vernacular, whereas for each Russian it is an official symbol of the New Year. That and the smell of mandarins. Boiled potatoes, eggs, pickles, diced chicken meat, sweet pees and much mayonnaise. Yes, in Russian it screams holiday! You can also add onions, which will add a crunch and a new year kiss memorable. We also bought “Ant Hill” & “Natasha” cakes: do you notice romantic tendencies in relation to food in the Russian culture? My husband also found an almond champagne in Trader Joes, recommended cordially. Needless to explain that we’re very Americanized to opt to accompany “Olivie” with a lady’s drink instead of the traditional bottle of vodka. Usually celebration is held with an abundant amounts of alcohol and on occasion might be also followed by possible fist fighting, throwing up, heavy hangover and an episodic amnesia of the whole event causing an allure which builds up an anticipation for the next year celebrations.

To much surprise we discovered a Russian TV channel on our cable. We haven’t see Russian programs for about 8 years and it remained as nostalgic memory and a source of many jokes. New Year is one of the major holidays widely celebrated, every self respected Russian star dreams of singing another star’s songs in the new arrangement in a long New Year concert, including much stand up comedy and music.

We started watching “New Year’s Olivie” ( told you, the salad is legendary) at 6:00PM. It was fun rediscovering the music, the comedy, old stars with the new faces or teeth. At about 10:15PM we recalled that NBC and ABC will run the New Year’s party, a much coveted gig for Ryan Seacrest and Carson Daly. Well, mazl tov, what a pearl of entertainment!

I wondered who cared to watch the show for two hours starring the crowd of unknown people who decided to make an idiotic choice to meet the New Year by standing for hours on the streets of New York or Los Angeles in dripping rain, hideous hats and the indispensable new year accessory 2010 glasses, which were much needed after 10:00PM in rain. My concern was families with little kids at 11:00PM waiting for a ball dropping in New York or a… messiah coming in Los Angeles . Mine go to bed at 9:00PM, why aren’t yours? How romantic is it to be proposed to and kissed while bumping with the plush ugly Dr. Seuss hats in dripping rain by a guy dressed like a clown on the camping trip gone bad? The guy decided to get spontaneous and proposed to a completely unsurprised girl, who was most definitely thinking: he better have a better one coming and with a ring!

The highlight was the performance of Black Eye Peas and Fergie’s legs. On that note, please go see “Nine”, you’re welcome! Jennifer Lopez was the second and the last highlight of the rainy festivities. How little is left for her to enjoy if the inspiration for a song now is her little Vuitton shoes. I’m looking forward to the next single “My Sparkly Fendi Bag” and a ballad “My Blue Balenciaga”.

My husband and I successfully finished the whole bottle of almond champagne by the time Jennifer and Mr. Lopez, dressed like a stage worker next to the sparkly diva of a wife were bidding good byes with Ryan Seacrest leaving us with the wishes of a happy new year.  For non drinkers as we are we have established a definite new family record: no, not watching TV for hours (oh, and if there is such a record, we’d beat it, hands down!), but the whole bottle of champagne! We thanked each other for our healthy kids, congratulated each other on the 1st birthday of our beautiful daughter and wished for a better year. We did the same last year…oh, well…they say in Russian: hope is the last to die. S novim godom!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year dear PNNers!!! I cordially wish you much joy, laughter, success, wishes to come true and FAST, love, fun, well being, less wrinkles, more shoes, me time and more love!!!

I joined your kind community about six months ago and for me this year it has been my biggest accomplishment: to see my words and thoughts in print online, make those of you who took the time to read smile and even being awarded by a coveted PNN mug! I'm looking forward to making you smile next year, hopefully I will have more reasons for it as well. If I made anyone as much as laughing, I feel rewarded with even bigger sense of accomplishment .

Thank you for being there and have a great new year!

I Think I Was Violated Korean Style...

This weekend we celebrated another one of our three anniversaries. After hearing much about the Korean bath experiences we always joked that I would not be suitable to be their client. However, my husband, usually attentive but probably having a mild amnesia episode, decided to surprise me with the trip to the Korean spa. He researched the place, asked around and booked what he was told to be a recently opened fancy and the best in the area place.

We walked into a spotless facility, marble and onyx tile, granite walls, you could eat off the floors. We were given out a sexy ensemble of knee long roomy shorts and an oversized T-shirt to hang around in the mutual top floor of different kinds of saunas. Mineral sauna, jade room, all covered in mosaics out of minerals, salts, jade, onyx, beautiful. The snow room was  more of an interest in its design then spending a second there for a California girl like me, who is chilly on a regular CA September evening. After spending half an hour together lying on jute rugs we were invited, or at least we thought we were, since we couldn’t make much out the Korean accent, to downstairs, each to our ladies and men’s separate quarters. My husband proudly presented me with 2 hours of scrub and massage, which on paper sounded a trip to heaven, which later turned out to be a one way ticket.

Now, why would I not be a suitable client… I might be very daring in my expressions and reactions, however, I am physically very shy. Objectively, I realize I do not look hideous at all: at 5’3 I returned to my post baby weight fluctuating between 115 and 116.5Lbs. I take my personal hygiene and body grooming extremely seriously. You would not catch me without a pedicure even if “2012” predictions came true. However, not only would I not parade it in clothes, I had a mortified Charlotte minute before losing the towel to enter the ladies’ spa, when I saw no partitions in the shower area, completely naked women walking around and remembering the scrub stories from a few friends…

An attending lady met me to invite me to my supposedly temporary heaven station with the vinyl covered table, behind a small partition in the common spa, hot/cold tub, showers area. She only knew a few words in English, like “My name is Lina“, “OK?“ and “turn around”. She was wearing a see through black soft bra on droopy small breasts and a high leg bikini. But all that became of no importance when I was told to face the table and ordered to spread my legs. Kindly.

The scrub went on for 40 minutes at least. Fast furious brushes that took away so many dirty skin layers that leave you pondering about all that water and shower gels waste that apparently weren’t doing their job. My newly shaven legs burnt under the rough rapid and often indecent touch, leaving me with the burns of at least the second degree.

“Dear Dr. Oz, is vigorous scrub good for a sensitive just shaven skin?”

After “turn around” I was thankful that a towel covered my face, because I thought that my red face would stain the white fabric. I could not endure the thought of my private parts’ views that opened to Lina and other ladies walking around in the area. I counted the minutes of my embarrassment and mentally yelled HELP! sneaking a peak at the clock. After she was done skinning me, she sent me across the common area to the shower, taking away my towel! Charlotte made it. I can too. I did it consoling myself with the anticipation of the upcoming relief of a facial and a massage. Little did I know…

I was not lead into a separate quiet room with the relaxing music that strikes the mood to join the neighborhood Buddhist Temple. Apparently, the Korean massage is to invigorate the body and increase the blood circulation, rather then relaxing. It was done on the same spot and table, where I kept hearing the noise of other women talk , water running, bins knocking, hands slapping flash.

Lina turned out to be the only non-Russian speaking woman who pronounced my name correctly. I was wrapped in warmth and then suddenly uncovered to a chill. After shrugging from cold, Lina reacted:” Yana, baby”. I didn’t quite understand if it was a caring “Yana, baby” or “Yana, you’re such a baby” kind of way. I  hoped that the embarrassing experience of flashing my privates to the strangers was over when I gave birth to my two children and I didn’t plan the third one. Neither the third experience of flashing…nor a child birth. However, my legs were pulled apart and stretched to the directions they were never meant for, then thrown back on the table. The exposure or over exposure of my XXX parts escalated to the level that “Hustler” might have considered indecent. Lina was not of a shy breed. I normally love massage and could probably break a record if such exists at all, lying on the table for weeks with the short restroom breaks . However, not so much when it’s done in the rough, violent manner, slapping, stretching, pulling, knuckles and elbows involved, hands traveling in the places that I did not think needed to be massaged. My breasts were first scrubed and then massaged or merely squished long and fiercely, which truly felt like a sexual harassment by the book. “Yana, baby!”

The facial was performed in the same speedy Gonzales manner, as if the train is leaving in 4 minutes and you’re still on the wrong platform. The strokes were so fast and hard that the pressure around the eyebrows made my eye apples almost pop out and around the temples caused a head ache. The blood was rushing to my head, partly from the ardent massage, and mostly from the never ending embarrassment of newly created positions with the person who was not related to me by a marriage certificate.

A rug soaked in boiling hot water was thrown over my aching face and burning skin. I squealed from heat. “Yana, baby!” Then an ice cold cucumber paste slapped my face. Then back to boiling hot. By then I should have guessed that this see through black bra and bikini is the official uniform of the guards in the North Korean concentration camps. I’m sure that somewhere Lina’s portrait adorns the wall of the honorary graduates from the advance torture class in the communist Korea.

“Dear Dr. OZ! Is boiling hot water good for a highly irritable skin? Does cold shock therapy help to rejuvenate my skin? Or am I supposed to give away an information of international importance?”   

For the grand finale of the masterful torture was washing my hair by a very minty shampoo literally shlapped on my head while I was lying barely covered by wet rugs on the table. She washed my hair with such an ardor as if she was either washing away the lies or scalping me for her prized collection of the clients‘ scalps, all neatly categorized by age, hair color and the spa visit date.

“Dear Dr. Oz, HELP!”

I met my husband all relaxed after his Swedish massage downstairs. Instead of cracking a fake smile of content I looked visibly shaken, bewildered and a little jumpy. I felt so violated, that I didn’t know how to face my husband, whether to write a warning story for the generations to come, call my lawyer or UN human right department.

After my expressive depiction of the course of such festive events, my husband got inclined to join the forces against both North AND South Korea. He was apologetic for the well meant gift, but tried to inflict the guilt upon Kim II-sung.

Lina respectfully presented me with the white envelope for gratitude ( gratitude?!), reminding me that her name is Lina for about 7 times and then making sure I can repeat that. “Next time…come…massage…Lina, my name is Lina. OK? Next time, Lina…massage, Lina”. I thought: “Oohh, about that…Lina, baby…next time… It’s not you, it’s me”… Note to self: “See you at the hearing at the international court of justice in Haag…Lina, baby”.

Desperate to make a living!

I've been sitting at home far too long to realize that I should start looking for a way out. Out to work. With a noble desire to contribute to our family budget which lately needs an assistance, I started browsing online employment websites, as well as sending my weird resume out to friends and friends of the friends with a plea to let me know if there is anything available on the currently ill job market.

My resume is bizarre due to a few polar different fields that I worked in during the last 8 years. I was good in both. However, each field would have too many substancial gaps if I create a separate resume for each one. Which I still did. So, now I own, as every HR professional would suggest, a number of resumes as purses for the different occasions.

With zero success in any submission, I stumbled across participating in paid surveys online. Give my opinions for money!!! Finally! Everybody should do what he/she is good at and I excell at being opinionated and judgemental! So, my first thought was that it might be a match made in heaven! I even recalled a piece on the news about women who work from home and bring a respectable amount of earnings.

However, a bit skeptical, I started the process of signing in. Well... Here is where my skepticism should have escalated. The website you start on throws you to a branch of different other websites, all in need of my basic information of name, age, address, race, etc. Later they all stuff your inbox with congratulatory emails on successful signing on the way to win and earn and some...

Surveys start arriving shortly. But what do you know! You start each one with filling in the same information as you already did a dozen times before. So, you start clicking on the age and race group for so many times that you actually start blushing in front of the computer screen. I wrote my address as many times as a naughty  student punished with writing I WILL NOT DO IT AGAIN 100 times on the blackboard.

However, noble desires grow into an ardour and you insist on completion of at least 1 survey only to justify all those hours of filling in the same information over and over again. The good fortune finally smiled and threw me a survey about my shopping patterns, which I filled in and as a result was entered to a lottery to win points! Just to clear something up: I am not here to win, but to earn!!! Never won a thing in my life. No, I'm lying, in fact I did: a bronzer make up kit, as a Lucky Magazine giveaway winner. I screamed like a girl. 1 year later I was announced a winner of a high tech  hair iron in the same magazine, however, never received it. Made calls, wrote e-mails, received calls, but still never received the prize. Wrote more e-mails, still nothing. Gave up. As they say: my lame Jewish luck. However, I'm not going to celebrate Chistmas this year to break it.

Surveys kept coming. Interesting subjects: movies, shopping, TV or anonymous. After continuing to fill in the same information for about 5 minutes the survey either interrupts with a polite announcement that I do not qualify for this survey ( was it based on my age, race or number of people living in my household?) or a page error. I kept persisting, until I started feeling that my age category will soon change before I complete 1 whole survey and earn $1.

It's been over 1 week. Am I a quitter? Was I too stupid  to buy this crap? I'd like to think that I was desperate out of very noble intentions.

Last Saturday we went to see "Up in the Air" starring George Clooney. I totally found my new calling! No, NOT George Clooney! Pleeease, pay attention!

My Belated Thanks

For the last 5-6 years we used to celebrate Thanksgiving at our friends’. They had  also been  our traditional company for the New Year’s celebration over the jumbo crab legs ( boiled with beer and herbs). However, this year was most unfortunate for them and with the total lack of respect for our holiday plans they headed to the family mediator to file for divorce. For us this year brought an addition of the second baby which made it quite impossible to be a civil company for any holiday table, so we decided to stay at home humbly and I was already planning a kid friendly Thanksgiving menu, which is a challenge: no sane kid will ever touch a string bean or a squash soup. However, my husband came up with a bright idea to go to a café restaurant which served Thanksgiving dinner for the lazy or dysfunctional families, as I thought of, with much apologies, I have no other idea why wouldn’t people rather gather around the table at home for this holiday. If you don’t want to cook or clean - so, I was right, lazy. If you don’t have a family or don’t want to see one - I’m still right. So, we don’t have a family. And I never pretended to be normal.

The restaurant is in an upscale suburb neighborhood. It was crowded and noisy. We asked to be seated in the dark corner so that our kids would not disturb other guests. In reply we were thanked for our consideration for others, thanksgiving in spirit, but there were many other kids, so, not to worry… As if we were worried about ourselves…

Under the menace of cancelling the train ride the following Friday, the toddler swore to behave and eat. The menu was  traditional on the border boring, no, over the border, it’s not that I’m unthankful , but I don’t like to lie. It seems that the pilgrims had more imagination with  a few vegetables and a turkey then the chef who created this set menu. The only item I was looking forward to was the pecan pie that the restaurant ran out of by 5:30PM, so I was left with the choice of either pumpkin or apple, both turned out tasteless and probably from the canned main ingredients.

The baby was quickly bored in the stroller and wined for the duration of our entire dining. Thankfully, the restaurant was crowded and her voice was lost in this noise. Our toddler doesn’t sit. Period. He is four and a half. So, he walked, danced, jumped around the table. We ate while stuffing him with the food from his kid unfriendly kids’ plate, fetching flying silverware in the air, toys from the floor, salt and pepper intact, keeping the toddler from running away, baby from crying.

When raising the subject of thanks for this year, my husband started with being grateful for me, much compliments followed, and the kids. I tuned into the same theme. The toddler was thankful for the trains and then, father, mother, the sister. Yes, the trains. Some days we are thankful for them too. Whatever keeps him mesmerized for a long time, and only trains do the trick.

A somber gay couple was seated across us. They did not exchange a word. The better looking facing me stared in a wondering boring way at our toddler as a zoologist at a rare species. He sat motionlessly, legs crossed, waiting for his boring turkey, mashed potatoes and green beans, whereas our toddler was circling and wandering around, gaining speed as the evening progressed, which obviously was flickering in his eyes. Our eyes crossed: we had a mental conversation:” Please put me out of my misery“. “ Do you think I‘m enjoying this?”.  “Can he stop hopping?” “We are almost done, let me finish my cappuccino“. I wondered if he was thankful for his partner…

So, we finally left, filled with thanks for the good toddler’s behavior: nobody was hurt in the process of the dining, no objects lost or broken. I was thankful for no mess at home, for a chance to put on make up and heels, for returning to my weight after the second baby before she turned one. We were thankful for the healthy and beautiful kids, for each other.  Going back to our former traditional company of a soon to be divorced couple of friends, we thought how lucky we are to have each other. Wait, what about New Year?! Oh, c'mon....

So, happy belated Thanksgiving to you! Thank you for being here to read my post!

From Ukraine with Love: Borsch.

As promised as it seems now a long time ago at the era I was babysitting my two dear children who lately seem to graduate to the advance level of blood sucking and virtuoso nerves playing. Certificates inclosed.

Back to the borsch. I spell it as I pronounce it. The recipe has been in my family for generations. My mother being an even more ardent fan of quick and easy meals  ( she thinks I cook complicated but as the chefs on TV, which cannot be a bigger compliment from her, since things are rarely done right, right?) passed me the recipe when I moved in with my now husband and became the boss in my own kitchen. Or am I?

According to my mother's eye balling everything, no, we are not related to Rachel Ray, I came up with the amounts for her very quick and easy recipe. And the ingredients are:

 - 1 onion

 - 1 carrot

 - 1 medium/big beet

 - 2 medium potatoes

 - 1/2 cabbage

 - 1 small can of tomato paste

 - salt, pepper, vegetta to taste, pinch of sugar

 - bouquet of greens: dill/parsley

The only uneasy part of the recipe is cutting all those vegetables, so if you have a shredder or a food processor, which I still don't own (Yeah, I know what the Valentine's are for, but I'd still prefer a pair of vintage earrings or a bracelet.. wink, wink, you know who you are,.....the husband), please get those ready. Also, giving homage to Sandra Lee, you can buy pre-shreded cabbage, onion and carrots, although never saw pre-shreded beet, and keep it semi-home made.

Place onion, carrot and potatoes ( all clean and diced, carrot is shreded) in the big pot. To Motherofmany, I don't know what a big pot is for the dinner of 9, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. Play with the amounts of ingredients then. You're an experienced cook! So, fill the pot with water, bring to boil. After boiling, let simmer for 15 minutes. Meantime, cut the cabbage, add it to the pot, also add tomato paste, your dill/pasley ekibana, salt, pepper and vegetta ( I think it's your variation of a soup cube, but it is sold in major grocery stores) to taste. Add a pinch of sugar to bring out the beet flavor. But please don't make it sweet, just a PINCH! It's still a savory dish ( as you'd add a pinch of salt to baking). Simmer for another 10 minutes. Taste, if the potatoes are done, then everything is done.

Well, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't adjust the recipe to my Iron Chef's palette. So....

For my adjustments you'll need to add:

- celery

-  3-4 table spoons of olive oil

-  1 clove of garlic

1. I suggest that you sautee carrots, beets & onions in 2-3 table spoons of olive oil, for about 4-5 minutes before you add potatoes & fill the pot with water. Makes the flavor richer.

2. I suggest that you cut the cabbage as small as you can, so that when you eat it, it won't feel like eating dripping spagetti.

3. I also strongly suggest that you cut the cabbage & put it in the pot BEFORE it boils: place all the vegetables, fill the pot, then start cutting the cabbage & pui it it right after you're done with it, that way it'll come out soft, you don't want crunchy in the borch. Unless that's how you prefer it.

4. I put whole onion without cutting since my so Russian or Ukranian for this purpose  husband would not touch an onion ( weird, must do a DNA test...), so, that allows you to take out the onion with the greens ( dill and parsley) after the borch is done.

5. I add cerely to my greens ekibana.

6. I add THINLY cut 1 clove of garlic ( not squished, cut thin) to the borch about 5 minutes before it's ready. You'll thank me later. 

 There are other variatons of the borsch. Since I'm on the Ukrainian lecture on borsch, I'll tell you that the best is my aunt's version. My husband still checks the pot every time I cook the borsch, to check if the day has come, but...if you don't go to the gym, you don't get the fat borch with the meat. So, my aunt sautees every vegetable separately and then adds beef or short ribs to the pot, which makes it a small heart attack on the plate, but at least you die oh so happy! Unless you're a vegetarian, then you just die.

My grandfather used to eat it boling hot with the garlic bread. No, in Ukraine of 1980 there was no garlic bread on the menu or as a term at all, but my grandfather improvised what seemed to me then ingenious: he would rub a clove of garlic on the bread crust and that would be an indispensable part of serving the borsch.

Oh, right, the serving: you serve it traditionally with a dollop of sour cream. If you are oblivious of the Ukranian traditions you can also serve it with plain yogurt or as I have been serving myself for years, with mayonaise ( secretly, I'm not Ukranian).

Now, tie your rushnichok behind your back, put on those red booties and tune your volinka for a romantic Ukranian accompaniment! Serve with a warm smile! Na zdorov'e!

I Earned the PNN Mug!

I was just notified by Leigh that I earned the PNN mug! Honestly, I thought the contribution to receive a mug would extend to serious articles, deep arguments instead of my cynical meddling into other people's conversations. Actually, even more honestly, I never thought about a mug, but remembered a post of someone here who posted a picture of it. I love mugs, and was deeply touched to be awarded with such a creation for my dark grey points of view ( I try to steer off black).

This message cheered me up. The last two days have been hard on me. It started with my toddler being sent home from daycare for being cranky. No, no fever. Cranky. Seriously?! First of all: have you just met?! Second of all: can I send him back there for getting me even crankier? As if it's not enough to stay at home with one baby. I understand that we cannot be too careful during the flu season, but...We were scheduled for a flu shot later that day, after the doctor made sure that the toddler was healthy enough to receive the shot, the latter came down with the sore throat late at night, followed by throwing up due to the agonizing cough. At least we managed to see Dancing with the Stars, the Results Show.

So, it's not easy to be at home with 2 kids. No, it's not breaking news, I'm aware. The long planned shower is yet again postponed. Olay toner for oily to normal skin can replace a shower, did you know that? ( does that count as breaking news?) Errands. What errands?! I actually did ironed the laundry...I know, I'm the last of the Mohicans. By the way, did they have irons? Did they wear enough clothes to iron?

Cranky was changed fast to the usual non listening in full energy mode. There is a constant noise of banging, dangling, screaming ( of joy), knocking, hammering. No, there is no current construction in the house. Occasional high pitch scream, oh, right, that would be me...I caught myself hoping that the loved to death would get better fast just so that he will finally go to the daycare & relieve my stress.

At the dinner time, I insists he eats himself, with the premonition of the pre-K threatening my brittle nervous system next year. After the high pitched ( or scream, depending upon who describes it) "take the spoon into the mouth!", the adorable looks at me with the Cat from Shrek eyes and still without lifting the spoon says :" Mama, I love you trillion!" Isn't that ice melting?!

We're off to do a puzzle. Baby is crawling, grabbing the pieces, prevents us to complete the picture of raving angry dinosaurs. There are 3 more hours to go before bed time. The stress gets the worse of me, but kissing them good night I feel apologetic for all the negativity I poured out. I recently asked my husband: do you think he feels loved? Because he is. We are just tired. Is that a valid excuse?

So, there is a mug in mail. I love mugs. I love mail. I'll be able to sip my tea from it slowly after the day is over, the kids are in bed, well and healthy, and our favorite TV show is on.

Oh, a nice side table with a vase on it fell. The table is broken. GREAT...Have to go...run...

For the fans of quick and easy meals.

I'm an ardent fan of quick and easy meals. In fact, nothing I have ever cooked for my family or for a fancy holiday dinner to impress my guests was never a 25 ingredients, 2 days prep dishes. My creative challenge is always to cook a dish that is minimum ingredients and time that will result in a jaw dropping, oh, wait, it's unattractive when food falls out of your mouth, then impressive dish with gourmet appeal that alludes at the long hours and much sweat put into it. Oh, wait again...No, no sweat put into it...FDA wouldn't approve...Labour! yes, labour!

Adventerous as I am ( I did watch a few episodes of True Blood), I bought a pack of beef cubes for a stew in Trader Joes. My beef never succeeded, so I stopped trying a few years ago. However, there is a point in your life when you feel like you're growing wings after the years of cooking chicken at home. I looked up a recipe on Foodnetwork.com:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/beef-stew-recipe2/index.html

Out of all the beef stew recipes that looked like the simplest. Level EASY, the only thing I did not have in my pantry was thyme, so I substituted it with oregano. ( Told you, I was adventurous!) It warns about 20 minutes of prep time and 2 hours 45 minutes of cooking. Well, well, well...

Achievements:

 - for the 1st time in my life the beef was soft and delicous, not chewy and hard.

 - potatoes came out soft, flavorful, in fact I myself ate them after years of carbs and starch deprivation, especially in the form of potatoes, with the noble purpose of preserving my petite figure. Well, no as much as preserve, as actually get to this petite figure.

 - Unexpected turn of events: I had crimini mushrooms that I added instead of canned tomatoes. Good idea. ( I'm going to update my adventurous portfolio)

Struggles:

 - Sauteeing beef is long, you do this in batches....20 min

 - Sauteeing onion, garlic, see the recipe - 10 min

 - Cook the meat until tender - 1 hr 30 min

 - Cut vegetables, add and cook all together - 1 hr

 Total 3 hours...

Results:

 - Plating into rustic clay bowls - 20 sec

 - Preparing tea - 10 min

 - Having warm dinner in front of Grey's Anatomy - 10 min ( for me, 4 min for my husband, he chews fast. How many times did I tell him?! Nobody runs after you! Grey's Anatomy is 1 hour long!)

- The look of impression and a healthy appetite on my husband's face - rewarding.

 - Clean up time - priceless.

 - Leftovers - 1 1/3 servings.

Was the endeavor worthwhile?

How to be a great wife & mother for an evening.

I decided to share the happiness of a content mother and wife due to a delicious and nutritious dinner I served last night to the utmost delight of my family. I fried Russian blinchiki. Not BLINI that in shape & thickness or lightness will remind you of a French crepe, but small Russian blinchiki, pancakes about 3" in diameter. There is not much enlightment in whiping a pancake, even more so, every respectable food store owns a few brands of a pancake mix. However, that turned easy and the only difference between the American pancake & the Russian blinchik is the size ( which matters here) and 1 ingredient: we use yogurt instead of milk. So, I thought I'd add to the diversity of your daily culinary servings.

So, the traditional mix would be:

 - 1 cup of yogurt

 - 1 egg

 - 2 flat teaspoons of baking powder

 - pinch of salt

 - 1/2 of sugar ( taste the mix to make it sweet to your taste)

 - 8 table spoons of flour

Mixture should be as dense as a sour cream, so, add more flour if it's too liquid. Vegetable oil on your skillet needs to be very hot for frying. NO GRIDDLE! It's Russian! Will make 4-6 servings, depending on the number of family members and their hunger level.

Now, to nutritious/delicious modifications! Assume the Iron Chef position! Open your pantry and the fridge! So...I'm a good wife & mother, but not so good, so you will eat healthier, if it's even possible in combination with blinchik/pancake in the same sentence.

 - Use brown/raw sugar instead of white sugar.

 - Use whole grain flour instead of bleached. Yes, my husband used to detect the difference and complained...so where did it get him? Nowhere! He licked his fingers yesterday and it seems that he already forgot how bleached flour tastes.

 - Blueberries are too....passe...excuse moi...So, see what else you have in your fruit selection: mashed banana, blended/grated apple or pear or peach would work wonders and provide your kids with what's left from those vitamins after frying!

 - Use fruit yogurt: I tried tropical, strawberry, peach! Check with your daily selection of dairy in your fridge.

Note : if you are using a fruit yogurt with fresh fruit mixed in the mixture, add little sugar as the last ingredient and taste the mixture to check that it is to your sweet or not so sweet tooth.

 - They say you should not fry or bake in olive oil, so I fry and never bake in extra virgin olive oil. I don't have any other kind in my pantry. It's good for you! Rachel says so.

 - Not to forget the secret ingredient: lemon zest! Totally lifts it up!

Serve with fruit jam, fresh fruit, fruit syrup, chocolate syrup, maple syrup or to make it authentically Russian - serve it with sour cream. Caviar is a good idea, although I'm not too sure if it goes well with the banana or any other fruit. However, if you attempt to try decadence, NEVER buy this black salmon caviar in the major supermarket or a grocery isle of IKEA. Real good black caviar runs for about $80.00 per pound, so this is  how you know... Red caviar is more affordable, at about $35.00 per pound, and it should not be bright red! If you found your source of good caviar, the money you spent on caviar will be saved on sugar, which is unneccessary for a savory blinchik.

If for a reason of temporary insanity your family is not screaming in delight, while mumbling promises of good behaviour and many gifts to come and not on Mother's Day only, take the left corner of your apron to wipe a false tear from the corner of your right eye. Tell them you went to an unheard of length of following an incoherent recipe of some Russian chick on the blog and you were really really trying...Leave the room quietly. Wait 5 minutes.

If that doesn't help in physical appreciation of your culinary labor, return to the room, manically whisper " Beat it!", grab what's left on the plate, land on the sofa, switch on "Dancing with the Stars", "House", "Grey's Anatomy", "Office"or whatever is on depending on the day of the week and enjoy your rest of the night! Go to sleep content! You are the greatest mother and wife! To try as hard as to follow a pancake recipe of a blabbering Russian devochka from the blog place?! Seriously?!

Chocolate Pasta: Spoiler Alert!

About 5 hours before the Atonement Day was about to end we, or more precisely, I was planning on how to festively break the fast. My husband wouldn't hear about food, 26 hour fast is daunting, we also have 2 small children to feed, besides I normally spend my day on the backround of the Food Network TV. The idea of more thoughts on food was unbearable to him.

Ultimately, I had to make a choice, which danced between a pasta with smoked oisters and crab meat in the red sause ( you use a sause from a can and add smoked oisters and crab meat from your pantry. Garnish with fresh chopped parsley/cilantro. Sshhh!, I know shell fish is not very kosher oriented, but I asked for my forgiveness during the Atonement Day and I was on my 20th hour of fast) and that chocolate pasta that I was raving about in my previous post here. The plan for the chocolate pasta was initially festive to be served in the company of a couple of friends, but as the circumstances occured, indeed, everything turns out for the best, meaning that I decided to serve this decadence and savour it in the privacy of our own fast breaking, which ultimately saved us a social embarrassment if it was to be served to the guests.

The pasta looks very appetising in its package, dark brown, little lacy swirles. When cooked it loses its crisp look. I made it al dente, strictly following the directions. To accompany that I made a raspberry syrop ( fresh raspberries simmered with a bit of red wine & brown sugar), folded it into a mixture of plain and raspberry yogurts with lemon zest and topped the whole creation with toasted walnuts and crambled Oreo cookie ( held the white part). Sounds Iron Chef delicious, right?

Well,  what do you know...After the raspberry sauce hit the pasta it turned its chocolate look into a dirty one. The pasta contains cocoa powder, but no sugar, so if you have a sweet tooth ( and I have  sweet teeth, all 30 of them, well, 2 wisdom teeth were pulled years ago), sugar is missing. No matter how sweet the raspberry creation was, the pasta needed something....chocolate...sweet chocolate. So, I tried to fix it with my 4 year old's chocolate syrop, he was asleep, he wouldn't know. It helped the matter a little. My husband's constructive critisism gradually digressed from: "it's OK" at the 1st bite, proceeded to "it's not that great" and finally fell flat at: "I'd grab something else, even though I'm full, but I have such a bad taste in my mouth".

Both of us nodded in agreement of saving our culinary respect by not serving this festive creation to anyone, especially after such a successfull Rosh Hashana dinner ( Jewish new year), where I vowed the guests with Giada's roasted bell pepper soup, Ina's Panzanella salad and the Epicurious easy chocolate mousse, that got me numerous compliments and 3 marriage proposals (hold your celebrations: no rings and all made in my husband's presense, therefore, we both kindly declined).

Now, after much disappointment at our much anticipated culinary experience, I am the one who bears the guilt of spoiling the festive yom kippur fast! You don't say...

VIP to Taping of Dancing with the Stars, the Results Show.

I know that many in this place are too intelligent to enjoy flashy entertainment, such as Dancing with the Stars, therefore, I assume you won't be reading my report of spending the day on taping of Dancing with the Stars, the results show. I do enjoy good entertainment, sorry, I don't watch the news. Actually, I do, the entertainment news & must add that with the years have become as good as I can probably replace Mario Lopez on EXTRA, well, he doesn't know how to sound natural or interview people anyway....

So, naturally, as a self respected member of the Russian community, where people know people, our people happen to know Maksim Chmerkovskiy ( yes, I'm sure, that's the correct spelling, even more so: I can easily pronounce it) and Elena Grinenko. I suppose I'd skip the explanation of who they are, since I assume that only the DWS fans will be reading. I'm leading that to the point that we received VIP tickets.

As the VIP tickets holders we had great seats facing the front of the stage, very close to it and were relieved of standing on high heels and a suit (obviously in my husband's case, that would be the suit) in the current LA heat of over 100F. Dressy attire is required. No, we did not intend to show well on the camera, in fact we spotted the tips of our heads in complete darkness, after watching the show on TV later that night. But I felt great to finally get a chance to dress up and apply make up.  ( Lots of it).

The friends instructed us to go meet Maks in the end of the show: " Just pass him our best regards! He's a friend! So, here's your opening line!"

Maks came out in the middle of taping for the elimination section. Along with all the other couples with the female stars. He's just as handsome, looks much thinner in life then on TV: probably it's those 10 lbs that a camera allegedly adds...and there were about 5 cameras. As an immigrant I envy and admire his and his family's success and achievements in USA. Judging by his information on the Russian version of classmates.com, we were probably neighbours and as kids walked in the same parks, which makes it a bit exciting...in a strange non stalking fan way.

Oh, right, there were other people on the show, as well! My postpartum mind could hardly digest Samantha Harrison's size -2  gorgeus navy creaton, although I myself suprisingly fit free into my size 2 pencil skirt. Thank you! Oh, stop it! No, no time for the gym...Right, back to the other people...

The stars that left the show, Ashley Hamilton and Macy Grey...had it coming. I do wish we could see Edyta having a longer run on the show. My husband would probably be even more excited to see that. She looks as stunning and graceful as the Grecian goddess. Kelly Osbourne looked like a movie star from the 50-s! They repeated the waltz and it was like a fairy tale on stage. I didn't care for Karina's jungle pants and a furry nest around the barely there chest...Maybe she might be nicer to the costume and hair&make up department, since we have already seen those Christmas tree pants one too many times, they don't even look flattering on Krupa, the model, that Derek is so obviously excited about. It seems like he's the only one. She bears the strangest resemblance to Nicole Sheridan who was desperately killed off the Housewives, the original ones. Debi has a killer body!

For some reason you don't feel these nerves and anxiousness doesn't translate into the audience during taping. I think you can detect it more on the camera close up. The tribute to Patric Swayze was beautiful and touching but more on TV later, then during taping, when cameras were gliding in front of our faces adding extra pounds to Cheryl, who looked glowing with the longer hair style and a light peachy a la Baby dress, making it a bit awkward for Tony visibly preparing mentally to catch all this weight and keep it on gracefully with trembling hands. Oh, and the cutest thing Chelsie, was a dove in duet with Dmitry ( no, not DIMITRY, it's Dmitry, he's not Greek!). I was rather disappointed that Maks did not participate in this number. After the show ended my husband, a former actor, who can approach anyone and say anything, insisted on approaching Maks....yes, he is a fan now too and votes religiously! No, he is NOT gay! Back to Maks....again....I don't stalk people...so, no, I never went up to him to pass those friends' regards...

It's interesting to see once how the show is taped, you see things live that are not actually live, people who are in the studio who are kind of not really there...but I'll keep that to myself, let it stay as exciting as it is for you! Personally, I'd keep watching at home. More drama, less waiting, Maks close up.

Chocolate pasta!

Stoped by Tuesday Morning today. Amidst gourmet souces & olive oils spotted CHOCOLATE PASTA! Had to have it! It's in the small package, lacy small curles, dark chocolate color, SO APPETISING! It suggests 3 recepies on the back of the package: 1 with chicken, 2 with raspberry sauce....Well, while paying I entertained the idea of mixing both recepies & adjusting to my skills & pantry reserves: probably will do my idea of a raspberry  sauce with fresh raspberries, sauteed with a bit of brown sugar, lemon zest, a bit of cognac ( they suggest Grand Marnier, but....my pantry doen't offer that), will fold it into my variation of creme fraiche: russian style sour cream ( will try to find low in fat or calories, although the russian style & production of which already contradicts this find). So that will smother the luschios chocolate pasta curles & I'll top that with my favourite topping: crunch of toasted walnuts...

We might have a couple of friends over in a week to celebrate their 10th anniversary that we had to miss...Seems to me like a festive meal to serve for this occasion! What do you think?

Inspired by Julias

The following text is not a moview review.

Last Saturday we went to see the much anticipated Julie & Julia. I love Meryl Streep, it seems that the woman can play a wooden bench with a performance worthy of the Academy nomination and I absolutely adore Amy Adams. Her close ups are cute and warm and approachable and just keep you staring.

The day before Nora Ephron, the director & script writer gave an interview on the View. Naturally, it was interrupted and on the background of 4 non stopping voices. She told how important it was for her to create this movie for women. To her mind only women posess this ability of taking their life and completely re-making it in the middle of their life, whereas to her opinion a man would just buy a boat. Well, I'd disagree here about a man, but you'd have to be an immigrant to know other immigrants to know this....Anyhow, it got me inspired.

With teary eyes and much to my sadness I saw myself in the scene of lunch with the successful girlfriends. I saw myself in the scene of Julie answering  phones at work. I saw myself in the scenes of Julie's frustrations ( including putting a life lobster into the boiling pot)...

I recently started on a small creative hobby. Thought I might engage myself in a bit of creativity since I'm at home with the baby. And by "at home with the baby" I mean long hours and days, since our Californian summer doesn't allow spending much time ouside. So I bounce of the walls, perpetually engaging in something around the house.

I didn't have much faith in my makings, just a feeling of an accomplishment by the bed time. Something to occupy my thoughts besides the kids and the house chores. But I am aware that it can't turn my life over.

I wish I was only turning 30. I wish I had more time and determination. I wish I had a close, tell me in my face, easy in communication , no manual required girlfriend.  I wish I had something to occupy me that might turn our life around. I wish I had a better story about me to tell my kids. If they'll ever be interested...at all. But I think I got inspired.

Happy Anniversary!

I met my husband on the blind date 8 1/2 years ago. I didn't want to go. I didn't believe in those agonising encounters. I wasn't 23 anymore & my mother was getting beyond herself trying to make me meet a man. There was a line of blind dates that would easily give material for 2 seasons of sitcom with an option of extended contract & elevated salary. The last one, a week before I met my husband called & said that he doesn't know who gave him my phone number, but his mommy reminded him that  he had it & it was about time he called me. Immediate charmer. He also bragged about his high position in High Tech industry. I don't know what possessed me to agree to meet this flower. He said he'll pick me up from my house, but won't be able to call me, so I have to wait for him outside, otherwise he will enter (SOS!!!) because he doesn't have a cell phone ( I know, High-Tech, 2000.....). When he arrived, I couldn't get into the car. No, of course, he didn't get out to open the door for me. WHY? He was busy emptying the front seat from trash ( literally), throwing it on the floor in front of that same seat . I didn't even look at the rear seat...So, still, possessed by the overdose of the unknonw aphrodesiac, I proceeded to the 40 minutes of pain listening to his Napoleon plans for the future, regarding real estate, work achievements and family, all looking important in his old track suit, with knees so stretched, they almost hit the floor. Sexy-ie... I know...I apologize for not writing down his phone number...Oh, sorry, he didn't have one! (Besides an important work number with even more important 3 digit extension). So, under a silly pretence & my acute intolerance of the growing pain in my cute behind I asked to be driven home. The pain escaladed when he wondered if I was ever married before, since I'm so quiet ( really?!!!) and (brace yourself) know my place (!!!).....(DIE, DIE NOW!!! No, wait, drive me home & then DIE!!!). I gave directions to a shortcut to my house, which were utterly  ignored & later explained: the road had speed bumps, therefore his precious car will not be subjected to such damage.....When I slammed the door of his trash flooded car with no good byes, the look of disdain & disbelief was priceless....My parents were thanked with the high notes speech with an occasional use of profanity that I thought would be very efficient for putting a stop to their wanna be noble efforts. I consoled myself with George Michael special on MTV Europe ( which by the way is WAY too good & is actually MTV ( MUSICAL TELEVISION), as opposed to TRTV  (TRASHY REALITY TV) here.

My BFF ( male, with a girfriend who wasn't too thrilled having me somewhat so close) persuaded me to go on a date:" He's an actor, probably looks good..."

He called. Traumatized by the sequence of dreadful blind dates, I explained to him  that there was no point in meeting, since we live in different cities (a bit more then 1 hour drive apart). He told me that he worked in my city, in the theater. I cinically asked going for that same lets-not-meet result "what do you play? an Easter bunny?" Now, an actor in Israel, isn't your LA typical actor, who waits in the restaurants & once in three years has an occasional no lines part on the bagkround of the mass scene  in a low budget movie. He was a full time working actor, working on a few projects. And then he told me which one of them was the most famous: a play where he had a lead role of a Russian immigrant, that I happened to see with my mother a few months ago. Naturally, he was disguised with the long blond wig, thick glasses, self cut shorts with high armpit waist and the most authentic: sandals with dark grey socks. Also, to add to the authenticity of his occupation and nationality, his part included an obligatory profanity in every second sentence that made my mother, a former soviet teacher, very uncomforatble in her seat. I'd spit in your eye if you'd tell me that this blond nerd in such sexy shorts, cursing with heavy accent is my destiny.

He sounded suprisingly nice & humorous on the phone, he didn't present me with the form that he was filling out on the other end with the pathetic: what are you looking for? ( obviusly not you!) do you have high education? ( why? will my diploma make your meatloaf tastier?) So, I agreed ... I was expecting that ...character, but was pleasantly suprised with his good looks. I smiled when he entered & that's what he remembers until today, that 1st look & smile & the  turn of my head, that he translated into :" she's the one!"

We had a great time in the coffee shop & then he suggested  to see a play that won great reviews & was playing that night. Of course, we enter for free. What a 1st date treat - how intellegently, I'm going to the theater! I called my mom to tell her that I was going to the theater & will be home late. Naturally, she was alarmed & surprised. "With whom?!" ( Jewish mother needs a full report, including an improve answer to the " if he's so great, then how come he is still single?" ) "Well, remember that guy, in this play, who was cursing from the stage?! Well, with him."

An hour later I was proudly shown off to all  behind the scenes workers & with their notable approval we were seated only to see another play, about a group rape in a kibbutz, based on a true story. He confused the dates. I didn't know yet that I found my best friend and my best everything.

I moved in with him in 3 months. In another 3 we moved to USA. Risque? Oh, yes, but for me, all resonable, cool headed and more resonable it was so...natural, as they say: it felt right. I had no doubts.

Since then, we went through our second immigration that as any consists of family feuds, social discomfort, language barrier, acclimatisation at the new place, financial difficulties and more  financial difficulties. We probably lost our careers, a few close friends. We also had our achievements, our ups and downs. We had 2 kids. We found new friends.  Since the day we met, each day I've been reminded of how much I am loved. Each time I've needed a friend he was there. Each time I needed to buy a pair of shoes, he was there. Each time there was a good chick flick, we're watching together. Each time I was misunderstood by others, I was understood by him. Roseanne said: "love is when all those crazy things you do look cute to him" ( By the way, I'm TOTALLY normal, sanity is my middle name).  He GETS ME. My kids are the luckiest to have a fun and caring and will-do-it-all dad.

We just celebrated our 7th anniversary. He always remembers the dates.  This year we're in a financial dump. I thought, no, not this year....but yet again, he made it memorable & surprising. I thank him for those wonderful 7 years of love, and friendship, and care, and admiration that I feel every day, that make my other emotional, social and physical struggles retrieve to the background. I congratulate myself on being such a lucky lucky girl! Happy Anniversary!

Pondering Reality TV

I'm not a big fan of reality shows, but there are so many of them on all the channels & while sitting at home all day long, Oprah doesn't entertain that long. So either you want it or not, you're watching something "real"...Anyhow, a promo started on the new spin of the Bachelor, the one for real size women with the real size bachelor. They show those truly beautiful faces on overweight bodies, crying from dispair, rejection & fierce competition, large size bodies jumping on top of the real size bachelor who looks strangled by the XL love. A week before, I saw a promo for the Bachelorette segment where hot & fit candidates bickered & gossiped trying to reduce the competition like a crowd of high heeled high pitched cuties at the Saks shoe sale.

I've been always wondering the same thing: this 1st grand entrance scene, the bachelo/ette meets the almost tacky dressed over tanned candidates: you always see an "awe!" followed by drool & a trembling hand with a glass of what's supposed to be champagne... Doesn't anyone ever have the most natural thought occuring: HE/SHE is NOT MY TYPE! Based on the  popular theory that one knows if there is chemistry within the first 45 seconds of the date:)

Frustrating Joys of Motherhood

Prologue

I’d like to start with the prayer for being fortunate to have 2 good pregnancies & delivering 2 healthy beautiful kids.

They all said the kids will turn your life for the better. What did they mean? It definitely enriched our lives….with stories & wild emotions… But there are more components to our life then that. Socially & financially it went south on the fastest express train there is. At my last post I received many kind responses, among them wishes to enjoy those joys of motherhood that I’d like to discuss here. Many mothers I talk to frown upon mentioning hardships & frustrations: apparently anything negative in association with the baby seems to be a taboo. Why? Is it socially defined and obliged to be all cute? Let’s see….

Vent I

The Breastfeeding

The following views were not approved by FDA. I hated breastfeeding! Never felt natural in either touch or sight. The pain was excruciating. If they’d only have an epidural dose for this…To the point that when a gorgeous young lactation specialist came to see me in the hospital after my 1^st delivery, despite her professional agenda “die, but keep trying to breastfeed”, in 10 minutes declared that maybe formula is a way for me, eyes full of condolences…I was silent, didn’t utter a word, but I guess the look of misery saved the day. I succumbed once again to the guilt inflicting looks of my mom & my husband & gave it another try at home: I literally saw my tear jumping outside my eye in slow motion, no, didn’t feel it running across my face, I saw it in mid air, like the bullets in this violent sexy movie with Angelina Jolie, the peace maker….

I turned to pumping machine…Another sexy image. Joy? Who in her right mind could think of any positive emotion or baby’s health benefits at the moment when your breast is sucked & squeezed inside the plastic device  that looks more like a torture machine?! I couldn’t… Suffered for a few more weeks & put a stop to it. My pediatrician kindly approved it, since “ it prevented me to enjoy my motherhood”. You won’t believe the emotional & physical relief!

One family friend, father of three, “warmly supported”: “No, my kids only took breast  milk, never had any other crap”….Well, 1^st of all, they do: just check out your wife’s cooking or open your cupboards stuffed with Costco amounts of sweets in all shapes & colors. Those purple worms don’t scream nutrition! And when was the last time they ate a vegetable? Ketchup doesn’t count! Besides, after 3 years of suction, look at the boobs you’re left with! Who’s laughing now?!

I also never understood public breastfeeding… You can definitely argue that an act of eating is healthy and natural. I’ll argue that so is sex (“Sex is natural, sex is fun! La-lala-la” by George Michael), but you don’t do it in public (Unless you’re yet again…George Michael)! Our dear friend, the modest of girls, would never bare as much as a knee, came to visit us. In the middle of conversation, in the most non challant way, takes out the boob…My husband isn’t embarrassed easily, but OMG, it’s OUR FRIEND’s boob!

We went straight to Enfamil with the arrival of our 2^nd baby. What a difference…So, what would you choose? Joy of motherhood or the excruciating debilitating pain in the name of what? Nutrition? Immunization? G-d knows how much pain & negativity is transferred to the baby with the “pain milk”. Wouldn’t he/she rather appreciate a smiling mommy?

Vent II

The Play Dates

It’s the new term for going out for the parents. I do experience joy in finally putting my lip gloss on & leaving the house! I dislike play dates! Most of them…I’m stressed when the play date is in my house because of potential danger of other kids spoiling my Pottery Barn carpet & Crate & Barrel furniture ( By the way, do I get any residuals for mentioning those brands? For any case I LOVE MY POTTERY BARN CARPET & MY CRATE & BARREL TRUNK!!!). When the play date is hosted at the friends’ house, I’m stressed running or watching my husband running after our perpetum mobile stereo sound toddler to prevent him damaging other people’s stuff. Even if it's ugly stuff.

Every time I look forward to those fun adult conversations on the background of yelling, crying, stomping, buzzing…etc... The new usual sentence grammar would be definitely coded for aliens: “ yesterday we went to see don’t touch that!” or “ my co-worker told me that his wife give him back this toy!!!!!” & my favorite “ I went to the mall yesterday & you won’t believe who I saw do you want to pee?!”

It bothers me when the dearest of friends arrive with their 4-year old bully, or as they call him “mature”. The crying starts immediately after he enters the room. His parents are surprised every time, after all at home he’s Prince charming, softie and sweetie. The sounds of crying escalade when one of the kids hits the floor…with his head, courtesy of the mature toddler. The mature one is dragged out of the house, sweeping the floor with his superhero shorts. They return in a bit, his father tells us that they had a talk & the mature son explained to him why it happened: apparently, he’s indeed too mature for a 3-year old to explain the need of sharing, the latter was too little to understand the mature wanted that bike! So, violent pushing turned out to be more effective. Happens almost every time…how do you explain to your dearest of friends that their son should be locked up? So, you start limiting the play dates, thus limiting yourself from the social circle.

In the middle of this asylum “Fluffy & the Ducks” another friend, mother of 2 adorables informs her husband that she’d like a 3^rd baby. I won’t use profanity to quote his answer, but it was short & concise.

The joy? Oh, yes, we left the house, our toddler was entertained, I had my lip-gloss on, we made it safe home. Would I rather go out without the kids? Most definitely. But it’s not about my joy anymore; it’s about the kids’ joy now, their social life, as grand as it sounds for their age.

Vent III

Travel

Don’t get me started. The cost, the packing, the stress, the sleeping/eating arrangements, lack of possibility to see anything but adventure parks for years to come, mood swings management….let’s stay at home.

Epilogue

I know that little kids = little problems, big kids=big….So, is there any true joy? Of course, & plenty of it: the sweet minutes of the baby’s look full of adoration, kid’s creams of joy, the touch of his hand when he takes yours, hugs and kisses, funny faces, funny smart ass toddler remarks, achievements, sweet smell of their skin & I’m sure more to come as the kids grow…But is it all joy? Do we pretend to enjoy every minute because it’s socially expected & otherwise will be frowned upon as bad parents? Am I a bad parent not to enjoy the outings with the kids but do so because it’s the right thing to do? Is it right to tell the parent to be what a world of bliss they’re entering? In fact my friend was so much shocked in a few months after the birth of her 1^st child, she repeatedly told me with much frustration :” If anyone would just tell me the truth!” On the other hand, how come you didn’t foresee any of that? Just a human instinct? Just an educated guess?

Of course we love our kids to death, but do we have to pretend to love the journey to the end? A joke comes to mind: An old Jewish couple is about to leave the house to go to a funeral. He wears yellow shoes."You're not going to a funeral in yellow shoes!" "Why, what does it matter to the deceased?" " Change them to your old black shoes!" "They're uncomfortable!" "Change the shoes!!!" "OK, fine! But I'm not going to enjoy this funeral!"

Acknowledgements

If you’re reading this line, I’m extremely flattered and touched that you took so much of your precious time to read my long coming post. Thank you!

How to get going

To add a video you'll need to first post it to YouTube.  Then click on the edit link for the YouTube video box that's above this text.   Enter the URL of your video, hit save, and it will then appear on the page.

To write about yourself or your ideas, just click on the 'edit' link of the text box to the right, delete the welcome text and add your own.  You can add as many articles as you want.  The more the better.

You can also change the looks of this page using the tools on the left.

Hello!

Hello!

Let me introduce myself: my name is Yana, I reside in sunny ( too sunny for my taste) CA, a proud ( more like stressed) mother of 2 most beautiful kids ( absolutely objective, you may ask all those people of all age groups, who'd stop in the middle of the street/mall/park to admire those sweet faces), Max of 4 years old & 6 months old Renee.

In my past life, my husband & I were somewhat of a power couple: he used to be an actor ( awards enclosed, including Film Academy award for the best newcoming actor, equivalent of the American Oscar) & I used to be a fashion designer....Sounds glamorous, right? Wrong! & then we came to USA...Immigration No. 2 ( before that we emmigrated once being almost teenagers from the former Soviet Union).

I spent the next couple of years still as a fashion designer, being glamorously humiliated, insulted & cheated by my senior designers/company owners...My husband turned into a salesman, as it turned out the top salesman in his company,  with occasional & extremely rare acting projects. And then it was time to have kids.

So, now I'm a housewife, still hopelessly awaiting the extension of the Bravo TV project to "Desperate Housewifes of Tarzana" & my husband is now an insurance agent ( if anyone's interested, let me know: he'll work hard to get yu the best quote).

This year I turned...35, here I wrote it & shivered as I typed the number. I usually maintain my 25 limit of my age ( varies from 18 & up to 25 & yes, i use moisturizes, but no surgeries invlolved)  - it's my age, i update it whenever i want, trying to keep in mind the correct year of birth as each year turns:)) ( Oh, & that's with my math talents...) So, I guess it was this year when I realized what a mid life crisis is...Before that I assumed that would be a diagnosis of a middle aged man in high end designer tailored suit, baseball cap & a luxury convertable accompanied by a hot young....companion of either gender.....

No, mid life crisis is when you're afraid that you'll have nothing to say or better steer away of a career day at your kid's school. 

Mid life crisis is when all of your "future" plans never came true & now you're too old to start a career or to be hired at anything more upscale then a secretary, sorry, I forgot to mention that the last 2 years of my employment were spent in the windowless office of poorly functioning  law office. Getting paid became a treat & an unusual surprise...

Mid life crisis is when your body is still well, but a mini skirt is inappropriate.

Mid life crisis is when you're now referred to as "aunt".

I can keep counting the symptoms, but I'm afraid of the migraine that'll devide & wrinkle my forehead - afterall, I wouldn't want to waste all this money spent on the wrinkles filler, which seems to work better on Sarah Jessica Parker, on the other hand - what doesn't work better on SJP? (Sigh....)

I hope to sound more cheerful at the next post. Maybe a gossip next time:) ( or maybe always:)