Oh, no! That four-letter word…

S. N. O. W.

Yes, I did bring the apple tart!

“You are bringing the apple tart?”

Thanksgiving is three days away. We will be celebrating, as we have done many times before, at my brother’s house. My sister-in-law, the Gardening Queen, prepares the turkey and the trimmings. She does not do dessert. So, her sister brings a carrot cake from a local bakery. Their mom (my close friend, Estelle) brings a cookie assortment from Grace’s Market in NYC. I bake. Not that I’m the world’s greatest baker, but everyone loves my apple tart, and they expect that I will be bringing it.

Last year was the first time the Puzzle Genius was with us for Thanksgiving. Since he is gluten-intolerant, apple tart is a no-no for him. So, instead, I made a flourless chocolate cake. Though it was not very photogenic, the P.G. loved it, and everyone else agreed it was seriously delicious.

This year, J and the P.G. are going to his parents for Thanksgiving. So, when the Gardening Queen called me yesterday, it was, “You are bringing the apple tart?” Of course!

Health “Care” from Obama and the Democrats: First, Let’s Kill All the Women!

When it comes to health care for women, seems Obama and the Democrats in Congress have never heard of the doctors’ dictate: First, do no harm!

In the House, the bill that passed with the Stupak-Pitts amendment essentially eviscerates Roe v. Wade. Women of means have always had access to safe abortions. However, Stupak-Pitts will return less affluent and poor women to the days of dangerous back alley or self-inflicted coat hanger abortions. What’s truly sickening is that just about every Democrat who professes to be pro-choice voted for this bill.

For years, Democrats have held the abortion issue over our heads and have warned us that the only way to protect a woman’s right to choose is by voting for pro-choice Democrats. But they’ve turned out to be a bunch of unprincipled back-stabbers!

Their excuse? Obama promised them that Stupak-Pitts will not be in the final bill. Good luck with believing anything that liar says. The anti-choice Blue Dogs will never vote for a final bill unless coverage for abortion services in any way, shape, or form is denied. Presuming the Senate bill passes, after conference, if the final bill passes in the House, it will be because pro-choice Democrats again cave. They’re claiming they won’t. But I wouldn’t bet my house on it.

Now, about that Senate bill. It does not cover women’s health services. Period. Harry Reid stripped out the amendment requiring that these services be included in all basic insurance plans. But here’s the kicker. To allow the bill to come to the floor for debate, 60 votes were needed. And sure enough, all 58 Democrats plus the two independents voted in favor. So, all the Democratic women senators, including Barbara Mikulski who authored the deleted amendment, were willing to allow this bill to come to the floor for debate. Good luck if they think that amendment will ever see the inside of this bill again! It’s truly disgusting that women senators with Cadillac health care provided by our tax dollars see nothing wrong with denying ordinary women basic female-related health services.

And then there are the new controversies surrounding the latest recommendations regarding mammograms and Pap tests. How suspiciously convenient that the recommendations have come out just when the health bills are being debated, and the Democrats are trying to find ways to cut the humungous costs. And it’s a sure bet the insurance companies will latch on to these recommendations as an excuse to deny coverage.

In the end, the blame for what’s happening in Congress rests squarely with Obama, the Misogynist-in-Chief, who showed his true colors with regard to women during the primary campaign. He could care less if women’s health is covered or if Roe is eviscerated. Though he may have mouthed the words, I never believed he was really pro-choice. In fact, he was up on the Hill exhorting the House Democrats to vote for the bill with Stupak-Pitts in it.

Obama has shown time and time again that it’s all about him. All he wants is to have a big ceremony in the Rose Garden, sign a bill with the word “health” in the title, and then go around crowing about it. In the words of his Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel (as quoted by Congressman John Conyers), “Give us anything, and we will declare victory.”

Obviously, to Obama and the Democrats, “anything” means sacrificing the health and lives of women.

Some People Are Just Plain Stupid!

It’s the P.G.’s Birthday!

Birthday Bliss at Eleven Madison Park

This wasn’t one of those birthdays that end in a zero which we’ve come to imbue with particular significance. It didn’t even end in a semi-auspicious five. Despite that, it had all the makings of being an extra-special celebration for me. Our close friend, u.e., had purposely rearranged his schedule so that he could fly here to dine with us. And he was bringing along a “date” — his mother, whom we’d not yet met. J and the Puzzle Genius would be rounding out our table for six. And the celebration dinner would be taking place at our favorite NYC restaurant, Eleven Madison Park.

Mother Nature was a teensy spoiler. Showers off and on during the day and — wouldn’t you know it? – torrential downpours just when M and I were ready to leave for the restaurant. Normally, we walk to EMP, but there was no way I was going to turn up looking like a bedraggled cat. However, the minute one drop of precipitation hits the pavements of NYC, try getting an empty cab! It took more than 20 minutes before we were able to snag one.

When we arrived, the others were already at the table. Hugs and kisses all around followed by oohs and aahs from me at the small deluge of wonderful gifts. The buzz in the room reflected our high spirits. As we sipped Champagne – a generous gift from EMP’s staff – and enjoyed the always delicious gougères and hors d’oeuvres, we anticipated with great relish Chef Humm’s 11-course Gourmand.

A few days before, we discussed the meal with General Manager Will Guidara. The Gourmand is not a published menu, and it’s fun to be surprised by what Chef Humm sends out. However, when we’d had dinner at EMP several weeks before, the couple sitting at the table adjacent to ours was having it, so it was hard not to notice what was being served to them. Three of the dishes we’d had before. However, with the exception of one substitution (for M, J and me) and a request for one addition, we told Will that we did not want any other changes.

As it turned out, Chef Humm had some surprises in store, so we ended up with fourteen courses.

Autumn: Falling Leaves at Our House

Our backyard is half woods.

Election Day 2009

We vote in New Jersey.

This year, the national spotlight is on us because we are one of only two states (the other is Virginia) in which a governor is being elected. In our case, it’s a question of whether Jon Corzine deserves a second term.

Had I been intending to vote for Corzine, the Obama robo call for Corzine we got yesterday (a sitting president doing robo calls is a first for me!) would have turned me against Corzine since I detest Obama! BUT Corzine had already lost my vote all by himself on the floor of last year’s Democratic Convention.

I usually don’t hold grudges. But not when it comes to my vote. It’s sacrosanct. In last year’s Democratic primary, I voted for Hillary Clinton. She won New Jersey by 10%. But Corzine, with narry a peep of dissent from any of the feckless delegates, decided to hand all the votes to Obama. Essentially, they threw my vote (and, I might add, those of millions of other NJ voters) into the trash. Forget and forgive? Not a chance!

Throw away my vote and you will never get it again!

Obama has come to NJ three times, the last just this past Sunday, to campaign side-by-side with Corzine. And then robo calls. (I got only as far as “Hello, this is President Obama…” before I slammed down the phone.) Although the DNC put out a statement this morning saying this election is about Corzine and not about Obama, seems to me the White House has gone out of its way to make the question of Obama’s influence an issue in our neck-and-neck race.

Christie is a slimeball. But if he wins, I won’t shed a tear because anything that gives Obama even the slightest black eye and sends him the message that he’s not all that is fine with me.

At this point, I’m thoroughly disgusted with both the Democrats and the Republicans. I went the Independent route. I voted for Chris Daggett.

Today is my birthday…

I grew up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan back when the Jewish population still predominated. We lived at 151 Norfolk Street. All the families who lived there were Jewish. However, the super, Charlie Spitry, was Christian. Every year, he’d put up an enormous Christmas tree in the vestibule, beautifully decorated with a miniature village and train set-up underneath. Strange, considering the tenant population.

The building was considered fancy-schmancy because it had something rarely, if ever, found in apartment buildings in the area at that time: an elevator! All well and good. But it had a habit of getting stuck. I avoided using it unless I was with my parents or another adult who lived in the building. Our apartment was on the third floor — Apt. 3A — so walking up wasn’t difficult. It was a one-bedroom. The rent was $42/month.

My dad, an amateur photographer who developed his own photos, took this one of little me in front of the building.

Here I am again in the doorway. A little more grown at about 13. A friend snapped this photo. Note the building’s number on the floor of the entrance.

When I walk the streets of the LES today, there are so many changes that it amazes me that 151 Norfolk is still standing. Sadly, not so fancy/schmancy now.

I grew up surrounded by the loving warmth of my mother’s extended family, both maternal and paternal. My grandparents lived one block away, at 106 Norfolk. In this photo, Dad snapped me sitting on 106’s stoop. I can’t believe those shoes!

Again, I’m amazed that 106 still stands. In far better condition than 151.

My grandparents’ apartment was one flight up (no elevator) and faced the front. The three windows starting from the left belonged to their apartment.

I can’t recall what was in the store front to the left of the stoop. For sure, it wasn’t anything even remotely close to Nurse Bettie, a hip lounge. The ultimate collision of my Lower East Side’s past and its present.