a visit home

"I'm coming home this weekend."

I love hearing these words.

Late Thursday night, I'm sound asleep; I awake with my son telling me he's home. Straight from the Bolt Bus, Alexander goes to a friend's apartment to hang out. I would too if I were his age.

I awake on Friday to uneaten chicken nuggets and fries sitting on my coffee table with no diner in sight. 

Before leaving for work, I ask my semi-sleeping son, "Dinner tonight?"  "I'll let you know." The major attraction of eating with me is that I will pay. That improves my odds for a positive response.

I finish an exhausting day of ringing up little and seeing returns diminish my sales to nothing. "Sushi?" I text. The immediate response is yes.


Alexander and I watch an episode of Law & Order. Eat dinner. Discuss the moral dilemmas the show always raises. And talk about life — his, not mine. After dinner Alexander meets up with some friends.

Saturday morning Alexander is up early. Before leaving for work, I enlist his help and that of my very nice and very strong neighbor in flipping and rotating my mattress. It's been about five years since this was last done so I'm way overdo. 



Saturday night Alexander and I again have dinner together. When my son suggests having our sandwich, I know exactly what he means.  Our sandwich is something we created at Agata's deli counter — prosciutto, arugula, mozzarella, and avocado,with honey mustard and balsamic on a roll. 

Alexander has a friend over later and they go out long after I'm asleep. I don't realize he's even gone out until he tells me he's home around 3:30. I'm glad I didn't know or I'd have been worried.

Today is Easter and Alexander is meeting his grandparents for brunch.  He has a special relationship with them, and I am so grateful for their involvement in his life.

My son seems happy, and therefore so am I.

new low in public service etiquette

I go to the post office to mail in the taxes I owe. $9,045. So painful.

I am close to the filing date so I am sending my checks via certified mail.

I get to the window.

I come here regularly and know most of the mail clerks by face. Most look glum and bored.

"Good morning," I start.

"How are you sending this," is the response — not unexpected.

"I think I'll send it certified so I can track it."

"They're all horrible. All of them. Anyway, how is your kid?"

I don't recall ever engaging this woman in enough conversation for her to be asking about Alexander. And who are all horrible, I wonder.

I look up at my postal clerk. She's not in any rush to process my certified letter.

Nope. 

She's wearing partially hidden small ear buds and is engaged in a conversation with her friend. 

I say nothing and leave. No sense in testing the going postal cliche.

second night at Valerie's

I'm not sure how common it is, but in my family, we always celebrate the first two nights of Passover.

We are not a religious family, as evidenced by the brevity of the actual Seder rituals. But we do love the idea of celebrating Jewish traditions (and holidays in general), and Passover is an important one.

Tonight, 19 of us meet at Valerie and Abbey's. No one table can fit all of us, so my sister has beautifully set two.

Val and Abbey's stunning home is filled with people. Some are first-timers, as our family continues to grow.  It is nice to see the core family seamlessly expand with people who add humor, vibrancy and fun to the mix. 

But not everyone from our family can come. Jean and Jim are moving. Jack's in college. Sally's still living in Spain. Michael is in LA. Alexander is in Philly. And my dad is no longer with us. But here's a Passover that some of the missing did attend — also at Val's in 1993.

Hard to tell who's changed the most since then — maybe Adam.

Tonight I choose not to impose on people with my camera, but the faces are all beautiful and of all ages — from adorable little Chloe who is 18 months, to the great grandmas (Rita and Phyllis) who are a youthful 93 and 87 respectively. 

As usual, my sister has prepared the delicious food, all impeccably presented. 

The conversation flows and covers everything from new homes, the inauguration (that two attended), real estate, the retail business, an upcoming wedding, and much in between —though nothing too serious or controversial.

For a few hours, the rest of the world is kept at bay, as we celebrate another joyous Passover.

first night

Passover begins tonight, and we are celebrating at Jill's in Westchester.

Tonight there will only be nine of us. 

For my family, Passover, like other holidays, is mostly a great excuse for getting together. The tradition of the holidays is not lost, but it's secondary to family. 

Dinner is called for 5:30, so a plan is set (for those of us in Manhattan) to meet at 4:30 under the clock at Grand Central.

"What time should we leave?" my mom asks.

"If we leave at 3:30, that'll give us more than enough time. It shouldn't take more than a half hour to get to Grand Central?" I respond.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Won't there be a lot of traffic today?"

"There might be, but even if there is, if we leave an hour early we'll be there in time."

I think my mom would prefer to leave at 2 — just in case.

At 3, my mom is ready to leave. And at 3:15, she does.

I meet her at the bus stop at 3:35 or so, and we're at Grand Central at 4, a half hour before anyone else we're meeting.

As usual, Jill has prepared an abundance of great food. Matzo, chopped liver, creamed herring, vegetables and dip, and cheese for appetizers. Soup, beef tenderloin, salmon, chicken, spinach soufflé, butternut squash soufflé, yams, potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Multiple cakes, cookies and fruit for dessert. There are only nine of us but there is enough food for twenty.

While the Seder ritual keeps getting briefer and briefer, it doesn't detract from the best part of Passover — family.

my new work space

Since last August, the fifth floor where I work has been under a major renovation.

On Thursday it opened.

It is modern, youthful, and energetic. Bright lights (literally), music, gorgeous large dressing rooms (and many throughout the floor), lots of new merchandise, great seating for husbands and children and tired shoppers, art I'd like for my apartment, an open floor plan, and even  a new name (from Contemporary to The Collective).

Every associate wants to be situated near the front of the floor. That way, you can approach customers as soon as they come onto the floor. The closer to the escalators, the better.

There are many associates on the floor to help. Many associates to quickly offer assistance. It is unusual for a customer to not link up with an associate within minutes of being on the floor.

It used to be that the department I worked in was in the front of the store. It also used to be that there were many common areas in which any associate could approach a potential customer. But all that has changed.

In the new environment, everything is zoned. There is no more common space — no more open aisles. And, associates can only approach customers within their zoned area. Great if your zone is toward the front of the store, horrible if it's not.

Vince, the department where I work, is located in the very back. Saturday and Sunday combined I earned $57.90 (before taxes). 

Marlin (my great boss) is aware of the situation and is looking for a long-term solution. it's only been a week. I am trying to be optimistic. 

But after working so hard and earning nothing, it is very upsetting. It's not just the money (although that's a big part of it) — it's the idea of working hard in a physically strenuous job, and then having absolutely nothing to show for it. 

This weekend I earned far below the minimum wage. $3.62 to be exact. And while some days I earn a lot more, it doesn't make the awful days any better. And lately the awful days have been outweighing the good ones. In the past two weeks, I've had over $12,000 in returns, thus wiping out all my sales for two weeks.

But on the plus side, I am thin and my legs are in great shape. And, my beautiful mom is in town for Passover. Now that's something to be happy about.

changing tastes

I remember when I first saw this table.

It was at Bloomingdales, a very long time ago. I fell in love with its great, Country French look, polished walnut top and skirted edge. The table was made by Pierre Deux and priced at $3,100; I still have the tags.  I'm sure I paid a lot less than that as it was the floor model, but still, it was probably the most I'd ever paid for a piece of furniture.

It's been in my life longer than my son. I found this picture of my friend Scott. The table in the background was primarily used as a place to dump my coat and bags. This photo was taken at my first NYC apartment on East 56th Street in early 1992. It was a time when both phones and speakers were huge. 

The table would fit six comfortably with one leaf.  The most guests ever seated around this table at one time were two year olds, here to celebrate Alexander's momentous birthday.

The table rarely got used for our meals. More often than not, Alexander and I would eat in front of the TV on a coffee table, while watching Jack Bauer save the world or Carrie Mathison prevent some terrorist attack or Jessie grow stronger while hating Walter more and more.

The table was perfect as a place to play gin when my mom visited.

Or as a desk for doing homework. 

Alexander made a game for some life skills class in sixth grade.

And later conducted some sort of science project for 8th.

And every now and then someone would actually eat at the table.

Like when Sally visited after high school graduation in 2011, and I actually cooked dinner.

But tastes change and I now want a more contemporary apartment look.

I call the Salvation Army weeks ago and schedule a pick up for today, somewhere between 7:15 and 3:30. I get up early and call. "Someone will be there today in the afternoon, ma'am." To further qualify the time frame I ask, "So I should be home from noon on?" "Exactly."

The men arrive at 10:30. 

I am hoping my table and chairs find a good home, and that the new memories made are as good as the ones left behind.

bigger, smarter, cheaper

In the last ten years, real estate prices have risen. Phone bills have increased. Food costs have gone up. Along with electricity. Cable. Insurance. And just about everything else. 

Except for TV's.

In the 80's (likely before) I had a great 19 inch CRT TV. I watched three networks and was totally content. You plugged it in and it worked. There was nothing else to do.

Back then, hair was big and screens were small.

I later upgraded to a TV called Protron that was, at the time, top of the line. M had one; I loved it; I got one too. 

By 2003 HDTV was becoming widespread and affordable. My dad gave me $500 toward the purchase of a $1,650 new HD Sony. It was a flat screen (not flat panel, still a CRT), but huge, at 35 inches.I loved my new TV.

But five years later I sold it on Craig's list for $250.


Sony TV at a stupidly low price: Model no KV 34HS510

TV I'm selling was purchased almost 5 years ago from Circuit City for $1,650. It's a great Hi-Def, 1080i, widescreen, flat screen TV that works PERFECTLY. It is a CRT (weighs 206 pounds).  Color is sensational.  Need two people to carry.

My next (and current) TV was a flat panel, huge at 40 inches, and less than I paid for the TV I was replacing — just $1,395. It has spectacular color. Is thin; or I guess thin-ish would be more appropriate. And has never given me any problems at all. 

But alas, it is not smart. That's the only thing wrong with it. But that's a lot. I like smart.

 And then  I read a NY Times article that I swear was written just for me.

Should you buy now or wait?

Consider upgrading now if you have not bought a television in the last two years...

“It is pretty clear that 2017 is going to be the most compelling year” since the introduction of flat-panel models to get a new television.

So I research. The largest I can get in my bedroom is a 43 inch, unless I want to remove a mirror and hang it on a wall. I don't.  I settle on the Samsung, smart, 4-K  UN43KU7000FXZA model for $650. It's more than half what I paid for my last TV.



I now have so much to keep me entertained at home ...  I just need to be careful I don't become too content and never go out.