Snapshot

What came first? The chicken or the egg?

Tar-zhay

On my latest trek to the great Target, I had to purchase some Robitussin DM for my dogs' hacking. I found the smallest generic tussin dm for the dogs, and decided to bee-line it to the register as that store is filled with temptations that I am too weak to fight. At the register, my cashier scanned the cough syrup, and a strange warning started flashing where the price should have appeared. For a split second, I thought, "Finally, I win!" But, no, and the cashier asked me for ID. And, of course, the one time I actually leave my ID in my car, someone at Target would ask me for it. (I cursed Bally's under my breath for insisting on looking at my license to reissue me my lost membership card.) So, I asked if she thought I was really under 18 or if she could just let it slide. And she looked at me with a straight face, and said, very rehearsed, "Maam, while it is highly unlikely, you could be buying this tussin dm to make methamphetamine with it. So I need to scan your ID so it's on record where and when you bought this." 

Maam? Guess I don't look under 18. Also, I thought this was Target, not fricken Walmart, ya'll!

Snapshot

Seeing Mojo's head this large really does make me wonder, is my father right? Does he have a freakishly large head and should I report him to the Guiness Book? Marley's almost twice his size, but you wouldn't guess it.

Quote of the Day

While at the mall...

Jillian: "Aly, come with me to the bathroom, I'm scared."

Me: "Well, um, give me your keys."

Jillian: "I'm worried about getting raped, and you want to stand there and hold my keys for me?"

Diagnosed By Yours Truly

As most of you know, I boarded Marley and Mojo at the lovely Camp Bow Wow while I was away for two nights. I chose this place over others, because it is a day camp where the dogs frolic and are loose with other dogs for the majority of the day. And how much better does that sound than the idea of your dog being locked up all day and night, and only taken out for intermittent walks? The decision was clear. After they passed their "doggy interviews," all they had to do was update their Kennel Cough vaccinations. After shuffling my schedule, begging my mother to do some vet pick-ups, and dropping over two hundred dollars for the check ups and vaccinations, everything was in place.

They went. I left. We've been back home for five nights. And last night, when I opened their crate door, instead of panting (like usual), I was received with hacking sounds. Marley was dry heaving for a few minutes. I checked both of their throats for stings, or a dustball, or a guitar. All things that they have tried to get down their throats, but nothing was there, and the hacking stopped. They ate, but actually did not finish their food, which is notable due to rarity. And at one point before I went to sleep, Marley was hacking and Mojo was dry heaving. I thought, Kennel Cough? But they weren't coughing.

Apparently, they were. So after research, calm, research, panic, lunch, and research, I have decided to hold off going to the vet, as I could probably feed a small army with what I would be saving. And I will be giving them honey, Robitussin DM, and Vitamin C. Letting the cough run its course is basically my only option at this point. And we will see if it goes away, as a normal human cold would; or we'll see if it worsens and that small army will have to go hungry and my smaller army goes to the Vet.

Should I call Camp Bow Wow and let them know that their "super clean" establishment not only gave my dogs Kennel Cough, but that the vaccine does not guarantee that a dog won't contract Kennel Cough? The possibility of returning them there should be left open, for my trip to Bermuda in November and possibly, you know, ever leaving my house again. And according to my research, a dog can contract Kennel Cough in an elevator, at the park, anywhere. So, not that I am shifting blame, but if I never bring them back there, they could still contract it somewhere else.  On the bright side, they are going to absolutely flip over honey!

Snapshot

Eat it, or it will eat you!

Quote of the Day

Grandpa Alton: "Jordan doesn't need to help me with my tie, I remembered how to. You see, Aly, at this age, people don't make ties, they use rope."

*He thinks he is Jerry Seinfeld, and I laugh because he is my Jerry Seinfeld.

*Gasp* The Hamptons

I hate how even saying "I went to the Hamptons" always is replied to with "Oh, aren't you lucky," or "La-dee-dah!" I went to the eastern, southern tip of Long Island for a three day weekend. I did not hob-nob with the socially elite that grace the pages of Page Six, even though I may have bumped shoulders with them at bookstores and home decorating shops. I did not cruise around in a yacht while being hand fed grapes, even though I did eat many grapes. I did not wait on any lines to get into a hot night club, although we wound up waiting at the bar for a table at a hot restaurant. 

I was able to figure out why "the Hamptons" elicits such responses. Being there is a way of life, more than any one location. Houses are covered in worn wood shingles, and side roads are pebbled and uneven. The smell of ocean is impossibly close to you, wherever you may be. Stores manage to teeter on the fine line between posh product and quaint, down home feel. People are well dressed, but also sometimes barely dressed. Life isn't about work and chores and chaos. It's about strolling, and art, and enjoying everything you do. It's so hard to transport that back to Fort Lee. Where I can smell the Hudson River, but I try my hardest not to. My car needs to take me to each place, pretty much murdering the thought of leisurely strolls. People are honking, and rightfully so, because the a**hole in the left lane is holding up traffic, and WE HAVE PLACES TO GO! 

But let's not forget, while some people are familiar with "The Luck of the Irish," I have come up with the phrase "Luck O' the Jewish." Instead of potatoes, potato latkes. Instead of whiskey, Manishewitz. But the luck might just be the same:

So, on my way out to enjoy my glorious three day weekend, in Ohh Laa Laa the Hamptons, my first vacation since last September, I am imagining laying out on the beach. Standing in the ocean and having salt water lap up onto me. And the news comes on, and I get to learn that Jones Beach was closed for the day because of sharks in the water. And while Jones Beach isn't near Westhampton Beach, in the grand spectrum of THE OCEAN, it's way too close for comfort. And just in case I had any persevering thoughts of the beach left inside of me, the first news was followed by news of an unknown creature floating to shore. Pretty, right? As it turns out, the found beast was actually a really old sea turtle washed ashore with no shell. How sad, and absolutely shockingly horrifying is that? It was decided: no ocean swimming for me this time around. And the one time we did make it to the beach, just after sunset, for a nice walk, a man leaving the beach warned us that the bugs were in rare form, and to stay away. Onward we went, for maybe fifteen more feet, when I was eaten alive. I think in my three minutes at the beach, I was bitten about 23 times. Who knows what would have happened if I went in the water?

In remembering my last few times at beaches in general, I remember my last trip to Cape Cod. Where I was sunbathing with a friend, and people started chatting up strangers, excited whispers turned into people jogging down the beach, over rocks. Of course, we were more than obliged to follow, and there I saw about ten beached whales. It is horrible to see. Grown men are pushing against the backs of these whales, and to no avail. I would later learn that over 65 whales beached themselves that day. I learned that whales travel in groups, all following a leader. And when a whale is ready to die, it commits suicide by allowing itself to be brought ashore where it will pass. When a leader is ready to die, it is followed by its' entire "pack" of whales. 

Do you believe in the "Luck O' the Jewish" yet? I am heading down to the Jersey shore on Saturday, so I wait in tentative anticipation as to what awaits my ocean encounter then. Please don't say I never warned anyone.

Tony

It has been a year. A year since I sobbed out loud in the Synagogue. A year since my brother sat in the back of the pews and walked out mid-service, probably to sob out loud. A year since my mother shoveled Earth to help cover you. It's been a year that you have been pain free and healthy. No anti-rejection pills, no restrictions, no concerns. And I hope it's only been moments since you've been laying somewhere on a beach, sipping a giant iced espresso and reading an eight thousand page book on worldly spirituality. Last year, I said how your presence was a whirlwind of emotions, bringing us faith in goodwill and new appreciation for kindness and understanding and forgiveness. I grasp on to songs that surrounded you, and I hear them in pictures of your face. 

Snapshot

Marley hides from the sun under my legs, but seems unfazed by the wood chip sticking out of the corner of her eye.

Quote of the Day

Keith: "I wouldn't go to the Veterans Administration Hospital for anything, but if he wants to, so be it... You go in with a stubbed toe and come out missing a leg.

Snapshot

I often catch myself gazing at what I like to call "floor art." The stuff that serves little to no purpose except to draw the eye downward and complete a style of a room that I notice in more people's homes that you can imagine. These decorative candle holders, a rustic basket, intricate magazine racks.... table legs. My dogs like to call them urinals, chew toys, snacks, and materials that need to be shredded and spread all over other parts of the floor, so no square footage feels left out. I sure am lucky to have such equal opportunity mini-tornadoes sharing my floor space with me.

Environmental Autism

I was perusing Dooce and saw this article. It made me cry. Some people are so incredibly good, it puts everyone to shame.

Feral Child.

I don't have anything to say, really, it speaks for itself. 

Girls' Night French Party

Last night, a a few of us gals were able to make it over to my friend Clare's house, for an inpromptu Girls' Night consisting of crackers, wines, cheese, bread, grapes and pears. And once Amelie was thrown in the mix, French it was. I actually hesitated going, as I am not consuming any wine, bread, or cheese and I thought therein lied most of the appeal. I was so wrong! I always think that being on a diet/changing a lifestyle confines me to restrictions, but spending time with friends is an amazing decadence. And while we never actually wound up sitting down for the movie, and we played Cuban music in the background, our French night was c'est magnifique!!

Before:

During:

After:

Quote of the Day

Me: "In an interview, Jodie Foster said: 'Look, it's terrible, I know, but weakness really, really bugs me, to the point that if there is a wounded bird on the sidewalk, I look at it and I go: I think I'll just kick it.'"

Jordan: "She kicks hurt birds?"

Me: "Apparently for being weak..."

Jordan:"She would brutally murder you in a second."

Snapshot

This is an interesting trick. At first glance, this ladder may appear to be just a creative towel holder. But on second glance, one may notice the scale directly below it. Therefore, the ladder can act as an immediate source of exercise if one does not like the number that the scale is reading out. Jeenyus.

Quote of the Day

Julia: "My bf called me stubby 'cuz I have short legs. So I'm gonna call you ugly."

Quote of the Day

Carrie: “Auf viedesen. Is that how you say it?”

Me: “Eww, I don’t know, it’s spelled all disgusting.”

Snapshot

Hollywood is overrated. I prefer hole-y wood.

Let Me Call This Number Real Quick...

This interesting, albeit both mood killing and overall depressing, innovation in dating has come about.

It's called STFree.

The idea is, if it catches, each soon-to-be promiscuous person carries an ID card around with them. And combined with the member number on the card, and a verbal password code provided by said carrier, a potential partner can call in and get the results of that person's two most recent HIV and other STD results and their dates. So instead of showing up at the door with flowers or candy, just flash your STD badge, and all should go well. As long as your cell phone gets good service.