exercising

 I envy my friends who need to exercise. You know the ones. 

They don't feel right if they don't do their daily workout. For them, it's not a chore, it's a necessity. Maybe even something they look forward to.

My mother even falls into this group. Almost every day she feels the need to go out and cruise her neighborhood, even if for a short distance.

I am not like her. And I am not like the friends I envy, the ones who like to exercise.

I do it because I like the results. Or even more to the point, I'm fearful of the outcome if I don't. 

Since I've been back from the Cape, and it's no longer 90 degrees outside, I am determined to get back on track.

But I need incentives.

First, I buy a pair of shorts from Lululemon and am thrilled to discover they have discreet side pockets...enough to hold a phone and credit card. They are comfortable and look great.

Next, I set a goal: A minimum of 16 miles/week. 

I create an excel spreadsheet (I'm an Excel nerd). I won't record any day that I walk less than three miles. Last week I exceeded my goal and walked 26.4 miles — a tiny bit more than a marathon. Okay, I know, it took me 7 days and not a few hours, but still. 

I am now thinking of purchasing the new BOSE Quiet Comfort in-ear headphones that are being released this week. I imagine long walks getting lost in a good crime podcast... though I've yet to listen to a single podcast ever. But there's always good music if the podcast thing doesn't work out.

I am posting this, not because I think it's post-worthy, but it's one more incentive I am hoping will make me more accountable.

2020 Yom Kippur

Usually on this date I would be at Abbey sister's Jill's, and along with a big family group, we would all break fast together.

We'd also talk about the rabbi's sermon, and find out who fasted, who only drank water, and who didn't fast at all. 

None of us ever do the 25-hour fast, which is what tradition calls for. I had always thought it was sundown to sundown but today (thanks to Google) I learn it's even longer. 

At Jill's, we would first have a glass of orange juice. Then we would sit down to an enormous feast of bagels, lox, white fish, various salads, kugel and many other foods.

But today is different, it being 2020 and all.

I don't go to services; that's not unusual. 

Instead I go for a walk and contemplate life. The mistakes I've made. The many things I have to atone for. And the hope that those I love are inscribed into the Book of Life.

On my way to Central Park, on East 81st Street, I come across an outdoor service, led by a rabbi from Manhattan Jewish Experience, a group I've never heard of. It appears to be orthodox as I notice the men and women are separated.

Many stop. And for a few minutes, we observe the holiday together.

I head over to the park, passing the fountains in front of the Met on my way. 

It's an overcast, muggy day. I walk the reservoir, maskless (mostly) which feels good. 

I walk 4.2 miles. Come home. Shower. Read the paper. Nap for an hour. And break fast, alone. But still, with the traditional lox and bagels.

I miss the usual. 

But I'm grateful for the obvious (health, family, friends).

There is a Jewish saying, "Next year in Jerusalem." 

I'd be happy with next year at Jill's.

Phyllis turns 91

A year ago my mom celebrated her 90th birthday. My sisters and I put together a luncheon for her and 40 of her friends; there could have been more invited but we needed to limit the list because of space. My mom still talks about it.; it was a gorgeous event

So today, for her 91st, my mom has lunch again at the same place, the Flying Bridge. This time, it's a tiny group. But my sister sends a photo, and the weather looks as beautiful as it was last year.

We are a close family, but pretty spread out geographically — Massachusetts, New York (the city and Long Island), Greenwich, Philadelphia, LA  and Barcelona. So we decide to surprise my mom with a little Zoom get-together after her luncheon.

My mom is thrilled at seeing everyone.

And, it turns into a real family gathering. After the polite happy birthdays and blowing out of the candles, we evolve into life updates and of course politics. The big message being that everyone needs to register and vote. Unspoken (but understood) is where our politics all lean.

Abbey brings some humor to the conversation. "You know. I'm sure that right now in Texas someone is having a birthday celebration on Zoom, and they are saying the exact same thing we all are. Be sure to vote."

We all laughed at the words that were unsaid.

Happy 91st, mom. Your family and friends love you.

do you know where your child is?

I had hoped that Alexander would join me on the Cape, but he couldn't. 

Too much work. Too far to drive. And a host of other reasons.

Plus, do I really want him driving five hours to the Cape? He is relatively new to driving, after all. I think I'd worry too much.

So I go to the Cape without him. We speak often. He sounds good. 

Last night Alexander calls.

We talk a bit before he says, "Look, I need to tell you something and you're not going to like it."

When my son says something like this, I know that I am definitely, 100%, not going to like it. There is zero chance that I will think, "Oh you're wrong, that doesn't bother me at all." My son knows me too well.

He continues.

"I just got back from Arizona and California."

"You what?" I ask incredulously.

Before I have much of a chance to say anything more, he continues.

"I know you wouldn't like it and I know you would have tried  to dissuade me. And, you would have worried the whole time."

Of course he's right.

I express my disappointment, especially since I haven't seen him since December. But I can't be angry or then he'll just stop telling me things. 

I ask for details.

Alexander flew to Arizona last Monday, met a friend from Chicago there, and drove to the Grand Canyon. (Arizona, by the way, has just been added to NY as a state requiring a 14-day quarantine after you've been there).

Alexander and his friend decide on glamping — so much better than my son's original plan to camp out. Hard to picture my city boy erecting a tent by himself, and then sleeping among snakes and other unfriendly wildlife.

After three days, Alexander's friend flies home and he rents a car and drives seven hours, through the relatively deserted desert, near wildfires, to LA. I'd have been a mess just thinking about this part of the trip.

He gets to LA and spends time with his Aunt Lisa (Eric's sister), including a trip to Malibu.

And though I didn't know it at the time, on the same day that Alexander is enjoying the views on one coast, I am enjoying the view on another; here at Central Park's reservoir.

My son is in good, caring hands with his very cool, creative, and fun aunt. We both adore Lisa.

She encourages Alexander to tell me, and he says he will when he gets home.

And he does, as soon as he's off the plane, last night.

The truth is, I do understand. 

The Cape doesn't compare to the Grand Canyon, Sedona, and Malibu. And he did save me from worrying about the plane trips, the very long, lonesome drive through the desert, the wildfires, and COVID.

I never would have thought that an old PSA, Do you Know Where Your Children Are? would apply to my 27-year old today.

Guess I was wrong.

hoping for a better 5781

My sister Valerie calls.

We always spend the holidays together. This year we won't. And I understand. Another reality of COVID, and this strange, difficult time.

I hope by Thanksgiving we are able to figure out some way to be together. It's been 10 months.

Like everyone, I am hoping for a better new year than the one we are leaving. I have been inconvenienced, but nothing worse. I am both lucky and grateful.

Rosh Hashanah is about reflection and renewal. The mad year we are leaving has been filled with a pandemic, riots, mass unemployment, small business closings, and hate-filled politics. And the upcoming months promise to be challenging — especially with the arrival of flu season, the presidential election, and now a vacant seat on the Supreme Court.

It's an uncertain time. And in many ways, a frightening one.

But I am hopeful that things will improve.  And my prayers for the new year will be about that.

And also about ways that I can be a better person. 

Alexander calls to wish me shanah tovah. While brought up Jewish, my son is, unfortunately, one of the least observant Jews I know. But he does remember that sundown marks the start of Rosh Hashanah.

I tell him that some temples will be streaming services and that I will send him the link. "No thanks," he says. "Ya know with COVID and everything, I don't want to take any chances." 

Wishing you all good health, joy and sweetness for the coming Hebrew year, 5781.

five stops for a single drink

About two hours into the drive back to NYC, M and I come up with an idea foreign to both of us: let's make cosmopolitans.

Great. But we have to buy every single ingredient, including the glasses.

At exactly the same time that we decide to make cocktails, we notice a Costco on I-95. Soon we are exiting in East Lyme Connecticut.

There's a separate liquor store at this particular Costco and I buy the Kirkland Brand of vodka—which the salesperson assures me is the exact same product as Titos. Since I won't know the difference if she happens to be misinformed, I buy it.

Our second stop is a liquor store in Greenwich. But they don't sell Triple Sec.

We finally reach the city and stop at a small wine and spirits store on York. They do carry Triple Sec.

M next parks in front of a Rainbow Ace Hardware store on First Avenue. I run in and buy an OXO shaker and two martini glasses for $3.99 each.

We get to my apartment six hours after leaving Massachusetts.  

I unpack a few things, and we order dinner from Sandros: Tropea salad with onions, cucumber and tomatoes, Cacio e Pepe (spaghetti, pecorino cheese and black pepper) and grilled butterfly prawns. 

While we are waiting for dinner to be delivered, I go to D'Agostino's (the worst grocery store around, but nearby) and get limes, lime juice, cranberry juice, and a bag of ice.

Finally, we have all the ingredients.

I get home and we put the glasses and vodka in the freezer.

Dinner is exceptional.

Afterward we print out the Barefoot Contessa's simple recipe for cosmopolitans. We halve the recipe which still yields two-glasses each.

They are perfect. As good as my sister Jean makes, and hers are incredible.

Cheers, to my very good friend M, with whom life is always interesting, as well as fun.

the long good-bye

First, my plan is to leave on Sunday, September 6. Zelia is supposed to return to the Cape but then has a problem finding a cat sitter so she can't return.

Then I am going to leave on Thursday, September 10.  But the weather for the weekend sounds great. And I've gotten into long morning walks. And hanging with my mom and sister has been nice.  And what am I really missing in NYC? And the beach has been pretty perfect. So why not stay longer? I do.

Next I am going home on Monday, September 14.  I  buy a non-refundable ticket on the Acela. I'm not thrilled about taking a train and then being let off at Penn Station but I have no choice.

Until...

M decides to drive to NY today.

Instead of staying 9 days, I end up staying 18. But that extra time allows me to:

• Confirm that West Falmouth Market is just as good as Dean's... well, maybe better. They appreciate their customers more.

• Eat outside with M at C-Salt, my favorite Falmouth restaurant. Their calamari with mango and grapefruit is worth a trip to the Cape.

• Introduce my favorite dog, Jean and Jim's airedale Roxy, to the joy of golf cart riding. 

• Have one of my best dinners while here at the Green Pond Yacht Club. I had no idea that coffee crusted pork tenderloin could be so good.

• Get to drive a bit more, something I miss living in NY.

• Have dinner with my mom at Bleu, my second favorite restaurant on the upper Cape.

• Make use of my mom's washer and dryer... if you have your own (which most people do), it's hard to understand the thrill of doing laundry.

• Hear my mom say, 

• "What do you want for dinnah on x day," asked on x minus two days.
• "Have some brie (watermelon, lemon cake, etc)." "It's good." "You like it."And then repeated at least three more times within the next hour.
• "Did you turn up the air?" Every night I turn it down to 70 and every morning I put it up to 76 and every day my mom asks in case I've forgotten.
• "Where's the clicka?"
• "When I say I'm going to bed, watch. Ellie will follow me." And my mom's cat does. Every single night.

• And best of all, hear more of my mom's infectious laughter. 

I'm so glad I came.