Hello… remember me?

Oh gosh I know, it’s been simply ages, but I simply haven’t stopped since coming back from Florida and that seems such a loooooooong time ago yet it was only four weeks and so much has happened since. This is rather a rambling post before I actually get to the point of why I’m rambling since I can’t concentrate on anything else at the moment, so thought coming back here may help me.

Firstly the silly things…

… the balls are back, and a whole bag of conkers was unleashed onto my poor unsuspecting garden. My wonderful son Jamie kindly threw the balls back, but I got the neighbour’s little darlin’ to come in and pick up the conkers himself. Oddly we have quite a high fence between our houses so how the little shnip is chucking the stuff over I really dunno. At the moment there is one lone Bob the Builder ball sitting in the middle of my lawn, but it’s a wet wet night tonight, so poor Bob will have to stay there; I ain’t going out that’s for sure, except I do have to put out the rubbish… hmmmm!

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So, where have I been?

From the moment I came home from holiday, I was preparing for the Passover. This entails turning the house upside down, cleaning every cupboard, nook and cranny to remove crumbs blah blah blah… all in all a mammoth task which includes changing over every item of cookware, cutlery, crockery, glasses, pots, pans, casseroles, you name it, even the kitchen sink, well the washing up bowls, everything but everything is cleaned or changed. And every manufactured food item has to be bought especially labelled kosher for passover, so everything starts from scratch. Mucho work to be sure, oh and just in case anyone thinks I may have been slacking, my dishwasher packed up… doh!

Wearily waking one morning and feeling every muscle ache from these exertions I relaxed in a hot soothing tub (since my shower still didn’t work - more of that later), a hot soothing tub of some bright blue Radox muscle stuff when I was harshly awakened by an awful noise. I thought the house was falling apart, or pipes were gonna burst, or the boiler was about to explode, or I’d been hit by a meteor. I flipped flapped and flopped out the bath in a state of panic imagining the worst, water splashing everywhere, wet footprints on the carpet, searching out the dreadful din. Aha, who would’ve thought it. I hadn’t switched off my toothbrush properly and it was vibrating in the mug, what a racket… lucky it was just my toothbrush!

and… talking of bursting pipes… for the duration of the Passover I had house guests, i.e. mother, Jamie and Lucy and Rachel and Daniel, so we had to push the walls out. This doesn’t even include all the dinner guests, i.e. assorted friends and aunts and uncles who descended on me and I was having to go into the office too. Not wanting mother to think this was a holiday camp I set her to work in the kitchen, when I could tear her away from the snooker. I won’t even begin to tell you how many knaidlach (matzah balls) kugels, chickens, joints (erm meat that is) pots of chicken soup and vegetable soup, plavas, almond puddings, matzah puddings, cakes and biscuits, bowls of ice cream (when I threw out last year’s bought passover ice cream I decided to make my own this year), gefilte fish, fish balls, etc. were made and consumed. We went through almost 100 eggs.

And talking of eggs, as my mother was sitting at the kitchen table preparing the eggs for our traditional Friday night egg and onion hors d’oeuvre, (it goes well with the chopped liver) water is dripping through the ceiling spotlight into the bowl. You may recall some time ago I mentioned my poorly shower that could barely muster a dribble of water, well knowing the family were staying en masse and not wanting six of us to share one bathroom I moved my fat **** and got a plumber in who replaced the pump. It is now a very very very powerful shower and someone, who shall remain nameless, managed to flood my bathroom. My recently decorated (last summer) kitchen ceiling is now displaying a lovely long streak of yellow! Yuck!!!!

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Time for apologies I guess. I’m sorry I haven’t been around blogdom or anywhere else for that matter. A lame excuse I know, but on top of everything else, my computer really has been poorly and my little man did eventually come to check it out. Seems my harddrive is full and other technobabble that I don’t understand and internet explorer was behaving badly so we installed Mozilla instead… it’s all greek/chinese/russian/double dutch/gobbledegook to me. I kept losing my internet connection too, which was actually my fault, so my modem probably didn’t need replacing, altho’ I did have a spare one here courtesy of BT. Strangely my little IT guy went orgasmic when he saw my new box was a black one; he said it was rare… wow!

Still back to why it was probably my fault I kept losing my connection. My old digital phone needed replacing ages ago so I bought a new set from John Lewis ages ago which stayed in the box for ages. Push came to shove when I couldn’t find one of the old handsets thinking I’d thrown it out doing the passover cleaning (I always throw things out Pesach cleaning, like a diamond necklace 13 years ago… it’s true, honest). Now I was galvanised into charging the new phone. However apparently when I unplugged the old phone from the wall, I also took out some little white thing the size of a matchbox, apparently the DSL filter… doh again! Oh, and I found the handset a couple of weeks later in Jamie’s old wardrobe when I was making space for my mother’s clothes… double doh!!! Don’t even ask, but that time it wasn’t me!

I have actually sneaked the odd peep at Mr D’Onofrio and lurked longingly and lovingly at the Vincent blogs for a moment or two, yet still haven’t found the time to watch the Nashville video. I couldn’t go cold turkey altogether, I still need my little fix. But my dear poetry friends, I am sorry that I haven’t even lurked at your places; I don’t seem to be in the right place to either write or read poetry right now. And I’m sorry I haven’t visited any of you, my dear friends on my blogroll.

Also thank you everyone who has invited me to be a friend on their facebook. I don’t know how I’m on it at all… I guess one of my dahling children signed me up and I haven’t the foggiest how to navigate my way around, so I’m sorry if I’m on some of yours and not others, because it’s something else I’m not clued up about.

and… and… and it’s been so long since I visited my own blog, that the dashboard has changed and so has writing posts. I need to speak to my wordpress guru, aka Brian, to work out what’s going on here.

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I know I’m prattling and rambling and twittering away and I’m sorry. I was kinda wishing my life away knowing April would be a very hard month, and I haven’t even mentioned the wedding in this post - don’t get me started on that. But this month has turned out to be something else as well.

I’m writing this and pacing the floor and jumping everytime the phone rings, but at this very moment my dear brother (my twin so he’s not THAT old) is undergoing a quadruple by-pass. He is fit; he is healthy; he takes amazing care of himself. I am the short fat one; he is the tall slim one. He exercises, goes to the gym, walks, plays sport, watches what he eats (i.e. no red meat , no fried food, no puddings), has never smoked and is not a drinker other than the odd social one and he has regular check ups, but this time he didn’t get a green light. We are reeling; we are shocked and stunned stunned stunned that someone so well has had to be rushed in for emergency surgery because every artery is clogged.

There is a history of young heart fatalities in our family and he was told it was all down to genetics. They say he will make an amazing recovery because he is so strong and healthy, but it doesn’t stop me worrying and fretting; he is my brother and I guess I think he’s invincible. It’s ironic how he’s gone into hospital feeling fit as a fiddle and he’ll come out feeling like sh** but the alternative doesn’t even bear thinking about.

Oh and I seem to have left out the part here that my mother also had surgery just under three weeks ago; not half as serious as my bro’s, but it was brought about from her open heart surgery 11 years ago and she is 84. All in all I shall be pleased to see the back of this month.

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I’ll end on something that had me laughing my head off; it was much needed and did me a power of good. However, it was my future son-in-law who showed it to me, the naughty boy! This may not be new to you guys over the Pond, but it was for me. The videos are quite long, and rather rude, but please watch them through.

watch this one first

now the response…

hilarious, absolutely hilarious

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I guess I won’t be around much again; hospital visiting, supporting family and all that, and getting back into wedding mode (it is only four months away) but it doesn’t mean I don’t care and I’m not thinking about you all. Be well and please take good care of yourselves and your loved ones.

April Already!

this just about sums up perfect-ly the high I was on for ten perfect days; thank you Diane, thank you Brian, thank you so much for everything.

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I’m back and I’ve no trips planned until 22 weeks today when I go en famille to Israel for darling daughter’s nuptials… boooo hoooo!   When I say no trips planned, the thought of five months solid at home and at work with no foreseeable break sounds rather painful, so who knows what tomorrow will bring; I do like to do things on a whim rather than plan my life away

Florida was fantastic… we had an ab brill time, but on this occasion we didn’t make it to Disney.  However, I am given to understand that Mr D’Onofrio wasn’t there last week either!   Gee, we do have something in common… still maybe next time!  Believe me there will be a next time, if not there then here.  I am already wondering when I can go back or when they can come here again.

Diane and Brian were the perfect hosts and took care of me beautifully.   They are great company and great friends.  Amongst lots of  wonderful trips, we met up with some fellow blogging friends of theirs and had a riot getting to know each other over a cocktail fuelled lunch overlooking the ocean on a beautiful sunny day.  Such a tough life.   It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it!

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I’ve noticed that because Greta Scacchi is returning to the London stage, she has been interviewed and accredited her portrayal of Hester in Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea to the deep raw emotions caused by her and Vincent’s breakup and her inability to work for four years.   This has generated comments here and there, some I think cutting and callous.    

My ex could in no way resemble our dearest Vincent, not even through the rosiest possible tinted glasses, but he was the man I loved, the man who fathered my children and, trust me, I believe Greta and understand exactly where she is coming from.  It is totally irrelevant who or what caused their divorce; if you love someone and it is unrequited, for whatever reason, it hurts. 

What I considered to be a wonderful marriage after 25 years turned pear-shaped in 1999 and steadily went downhill from then causing heartache and pain.  By 2003 the divorce papers were signed and sealed, the final nail in the coffin that was our marriage.   It is like a death.   A marriage died.  It is a bereavement and there is a grieving process that cannot be contained.  I also couldn’t work, couldn’t function properly and was an utter waste of space.

It is now 2008 and I can honestly say it has taken me practically this long to resurrect myself, reinvent myself and venture forward into the unknown.   Well in the short space of time that I’ve joined the cattle market, aka as the internet dating game of the 2000’s, I can honestly say…  it sucks.  Whatever angst we suffered dating in our teens belongs there and should have no place in the world of a middle-aged singleton. 

The men all hold the same belief that every woman wants marriage.  So far every man I’ve  had the misfortune to meet or spoken to has said that’s actually what they want.   Well, of course they do.  As they get older they want someone to take care of them.  However, I feel myself tremble and my hands shake and beads of sweat pepper my brow when the word marriage is spouted and I know that’s not what I want at all.    I won’t deny that I do like men, good men; I love their company and that’s all that I want; no strings attached, no piece of paper where wife is a euphemism for nursemaid, etc.   Someone to share a meal, a movie, a play, a gallery, a precious moment, that would be nice… is that so much to ask? 

The guys I’ve met so far can’t even hold a door open for me, or hold a decent conversation, or hold their dirty thoughts to themselves, or hold a candle to the wonderful men I do know and like and respect; those who are loyal and loving husbands to my dear friends, their wives.  Yes, there are some great men out there, all taken.  

I am a fairly free spirited financially independent woman of a certain age with certain standards. I don’t want or need a man for financial support; I just wanted to feel desired again; I wanted to love and be loved in return… to hold and be held, but it’s been so long and I have learnt a powerful lesson.  I don’t know how to do it anymore, or how to play the game.   I have come to realise I am well and truly past my sell by date.

So…  I shall say not another word on the subject.   The matter is closed and I am going to unsubscribe my subscription.   I tried. I failed.  Now where did I put my knitting needles; I’ve got to do something with my hands!

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The last time I found a vid to this ab fab song, it was TWWW… here it is to Bobby and it works just as well I think.

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Lotsa kissing… mmmmmmm.    I never said I’m giving up on fantasy or memories! 

Sof Sof which means… At Last

For the V-Vixens who blog every single day, unlike some of us who not only don’t get to other blogs, they don’t even get to their own.  

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I was getting daily calls saying, “We’ve decided.”   Great, I think, now we can move ahead.  Then she says, “… but we just wanna sleep on it.”  The next day another call.  ”We’ve definitely decided.”  Great, I think again, but this time it’s the other venue.   In a space of two days we travelled the length and breadth (well there’s not much breadth) of Israel and narrowed the possible venues down to two; a sea location near Caesarea and beautiful magical gardens with strutting peacocks in Herzliya.  My daughter is not known for indecision, but I think she’s very concerned that her beloved is happy with their decision.   We have a date set; the beginning of September; the one date that both venues were available.  It is barely six months away and still to be organised is the music; they want simcha music (Israeli dancing) and then a DJ playing into the wee small hours.  Also caterers do not include booze, so we have to employ a bar company in addition to the caterer.  Then most venues are plain and devoid of decor, so a designer has to be brought in to give it the WOW factor… and then of course we have to organise flights and accommodation, etc etc etc.  One thing that’s booked so far is the photographer!

I came back from Israel last week totally pooped.  Thank G-d Bridgitte, my daughter-in-law is now well, but I promise you, women in their 50’s who want to be first (or even second or third or fourth) time mothers need their heads examining or have a bulging bank balance to employ staff, lotsa staff.    The children were absolutely wonderful, I cannot complain about them, but being nursemaid, chief cook and bottlewasher and babyminder was hard work.   I love them all, but there must have been kryptonite around because superbooba’s powers were fading fast and drained on a daily basis.  

However, I was able to leave my duties and meet with Rachel and Daniel and the wedding planner because where Jon lives they were snowed in again which meant he couldn’t do his daily commute to Tel Aviv so  by default he would be at home… I bid a hasty exit the day before the snows arrived and promptly booked into a hotel in Tel Aviv… ah peace and quiet!    Wow the weather was  horrendous; I have never experienced such a wild storm there before; yes in Bournemouth in February, but not in Tel Aviv… and England wasn’t the only place to be hit by an earthquake; there was a similar size one in Israel whilst I was there.

The next day

Halleluyah… they have decided on the beautiful gardens called Derech Eretz in Herzliya; the venue is stunning and my personal ab fab fav… I do hope we’ve made the right choice! 

In the meantime I had a mega surprise on Sunday which was Mother’s Day in this country.   Mothering Sunday is really a Christian tradition, so it’s not one we’ve ever particularly celebrated, but Jamie was insistent my old ma and I went to him and Lucy for lunch.   I was about to facilitate myself of their facilities but he made me wait to open the door to Rachel.   Standing there in a ’tra-la’ pose was Jonathan.   He’d only left me at Ben Gurion Airport a few days earlier.   Everyone here and everyone there knew he was making a fleeting trip on business, but were sworn to secrecy.     I haven’t had all my children together in the same room since Jamie and Lucy’s wedding last July; it was fantastic.

Tonight is book club yet again.   Someone chose The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht.  I won’t go into much detail about the book because it was the debut (well so far the sole) novel of a well known Jewish journalist and music critic; it was merely okay.   It reminded me somewhat of Interpretation of Murder where the writer knows a subject and makes sure it’s injected all over the story.   Next month is Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible… another one in the genre I call doom and gloom or o me misera.   Next year I think we should find quality writing yet light fluffy and happy confections to entertain us and bring smiles to our faces; does anyone have any suggestions?  

Lately I’ve gone back to the quick fix read of Faye and Jonathan Kellerman and Jeffrey Deaver; perfect airport and flight material.   Erm, and on that subject I’m gonna try and visit each and every one of you and even leave a comment before I go away.   Yes I’m going away.   Booba’s on her travels… again, and this time she’ll be stepping out at a different airport.  

After coming back from Israel overwrung and overwhelmed and feeling definitely overstressed, on a whim I did something terribly naughty.  I found this lonely single flight, that had my name on it, that will take me to Florida in a couple of weeks time.

Annie is going on a real holiday.  

I shall be a lady of leisure.   Brian and Diane found me a lovely hotel near where they live somewhere in the middle of Florida (I really don’t have a clue exactly where they live) and I am going to put myself in their capable caring hands.  I have no agenda other than relaxation and fun… aren’t I awful? 

I can’t log off from here without a mention of that other thing, you know the one, that’s either caused me heartache and grief, or has me rolling round in stitches.   The internet dating game.  I am still talking to the guy who cannot marry me for religious reasons.  He said he’s afraid to meet me in case he falls in love with me and that bothers him.  I suggested that could work two ways and he said he hadn’t thought of that.  I’m prepared to take that risk but I now see on his profile he is looking just for a ‘friend’ when earlier he was looking for ‘marriage’ but he also writes that he wants to meet single or widowed women; obviously not divorced.   So it seems there is still a stigma to divorce in some parts.    I met someone else who was just leaving for a holiday and he seems keen (perhaps too keen) to meet me.   Refreshingly he didn’t ask any rude questions, but he is looking for a wife and that terrifies me.  In a way the first guy sounds perfect to me because 1) he can’t marry me and 2) I’m not looking for hubby No.2.   It is all so complicated.    Maybe I should take bromide!

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5 March

P.S. If any of you live in Florida or will be going to Disney around that time  and want to meet up, please email me; the addy’s above where it says ‘email’  …  that would be sooooooooo coooooooool 

 

It never rains…

Saturday, February 9, 2008

libra

ann

A phone call or e-mail from an acquaintance you barely know may make you think things are headed in a direction towards passion. But consider that this person may have designs on something you possess rather than on you

… following on from my last post… say no more

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This is a real quickie…

First off the party was sensational; I couldn’t have asked for more.  It was classy and elegant, the service was excellent and the food was absolutely amazing; it was plentiful and scrumptious and the champagne flowed all night.  I would love to go into more detail but I just don’t have the time.  Still, everyone had an ab brill time… hopefully there will be pics but not just yet because….

… chaos should be my middle name.  I have just had to change my flight to go to Israel tomorrow instead of Sunday and I’m running around like a… whatever.   My daughter-in-law is in the hospital; she has contracted meningitis.  She is very sick, very weak and in a lot of pain from the lumbar puncture and she said to Jonathan, “I want your mother here.”  Please G-d she will make a complete recovery, but it will take time and she needs a lot of help, so I’ll be gone for at least two weeks, maybe longer.

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Is it me? Guess it must be!

Some Bon Jovi, although this song doesn’t really fit in with this post as well as the one below; I just happen to like it even though it makes me cry.

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Tomorrow night is the engagement party… woooooo hoooooo.   Of course I’m worried that there won’t be enough food and that everyone has a really great time… which means I haven’t lost an ounce this week because what do I do when I worry?  Yes, I stuff my fat face! 

We’re taking over a restaurant in North London and there’s about 200 guests.  It will be a champagne reception and a hot roving reception with a mezze buffet and later a dessert buffet… I shall report back after the event.    

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The book club meeting came and went and this gruesome, horrific, ghastly book lent itself to much deep discussion.   It certainly had a profound affect on me and I think I was one of the few who didn’t have the stomach to finish it.   The writing was brilliantly executed (excuse the pun) but the subject matter was not for the fainthearted.   It seems that the book was highly recommended to mothers by their single childless daughters who thought it was absolutely amazing, but obviously their mothers viewed it differently, albeit still appreciating the writing.   For the majority it is compulsive reading, but I’m a wimp and cried off half-way.

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I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this internet dating lark.   Not one man has actually rang me themselves, although I have spoken to several because they give me their numbers and ask me to call them.   Things are so different today.   I giggle at some of their questions, not because they are funny but because, in truth they make me nervous and uncomfortable.   There is a general assumption that because I am divorced my husband was not GIB and that I’m gagging for it!  Or, if I’m not is there something wrong with my libido?   It kinda puts them off their stroke when I say that was never the problem, so they change tack and assume I must be one hot lady and they then try to establish how long it’s actually been since I you know what and how many men I’ve been with since ‘D’ day, oh and how many men have contacted me since I joined this hateful thing.

One gentleman, Mr X, no that’s the wrong word, he was no gentleman, wanted to know about my beauty regime, like did I have manicures and pedicures, oh and were my nails bright red or white tipped, did I have facials and treatments?   Naively I started to answer him then stopped myself and asked him most politely what difference did it make, does it change the person I am?   Things are so different today.   My ex never saw me plucking and buffing and waxing and whatever…  I always thought men only had to appreciate the finished product and not the mysteries of the bathroom.

Mr Y (to spare his blushes) wanted to know what my legs were like. He told me he was a leg man… was he talking about the part of the chicken he eats?   I told him I had two of them that got me from A to B very nicely.   I did do the tit for tat exercise on him when he was trying to guess my cup size from the pic on my profile, only in as much as I asked him how he would feel if women asked him his size.   I won’t tell you his response because I managed to stop him before he told me!  I told him it doesn’t bother me if a man is tall, short, thin, fat, bald, grey or has a full head of hair, it’s the person inside.    Does this mean he would never have contacted me if it was just my face on display and not my boobs too, since it was an upperbody shot.   He said I should send him a full length pic so he can see my legs… yeah right on!

Mr Z was hung up on the fact I am seven years older and said that the difference bothered him and he could never marry anyone older, but we could still go out and have ‘cuddles’ afterwards!  How sweet and thoughtful and so considerate!

And… they’re all a little too interested in my settlement and where I live.  

A girlfrend of mine, the one who introduced me to this internet introduction thingy, has met a very very nice man who has taken her out to dine very very nicely and to the theatre and he lives miles away from her yet being the gentleman he is insists on picking her up… and he met her family!   They are getting on so well I invited her to bring him to the party tomorrow night.

I told her about the probing and leading questions and she can’t believe it; she also can’t believe why I don’t just slam the phone down on them, but I think deep down I keep hoping that out of all this there may be a meeting of minds.   Actually the one I believed had the potential to be a match of minds was the one who was in Israel who said he would contact me when he got home.   He hasn’t!    I have actually told them that if they’re looking for gorgeous and glamorous then I am not the match for them.

Then there’s the one who got me to call him while he was away from home on business.  He’s home now.  Should I ask him if he is playing truth or dare?   The truth being that I was merely an amusing diversion whilst he was holed up in a hotel alone for a while; the dare being… dare he meet me?   I don’t think so!   I know the truth even though it hurts.

This sure does nothing for one’s self-esteem, so exactly what is it about me that attracts these pervs?    That’s a rhetorical question… do NOT answer! 

In the words of Bonnie Tyler, “Where have all the good men gone?”  Well here’s our good man!

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, but not when I’m there

Brrrrrr… this is Neve Daniel yesterday or maybe the day before; I saw these pics when I got home from work last night.  Neve Daniel is on the top of a hillside; it is high up and it seems it’s only there and the north of Israel that got snowed in.   I sure hope it’s gone by the time I arrive… I do not like the snow and it doesn’t like me.  I am not a pretty sight struggling on the ice and slipping and landing on my **** but it looks like Boaz is having fun and I thought it was cold here.   Talking of which, I sure appreciate the seat warmer in my car

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I’m trying to lose weight again.    My weight is usually stuck at a very neat round figure, but I really need to neaten it down a neat round stone at least (that is 14lbs for you yanks).   It reaches a plateau and when I exceed it, those few naughty pounds generally come off easily, but sliding downhill off the plateau is proving tricky.   Yoyo dieting is my problem so my metabolic rate is lethargically slow and my body is used to low fat and low cals that it takes very little naughtiness to gain weight and a diet of bugger all to lose it.

Recently I found a programme called Diet Doctors; Inside and Out which is most interesting.  The participants are all, obviously, overweight, but they also have health issues that need to be addressed.  Apart from one very stupid woman who irritated me no end since she said she learnt nothing new because they didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.  She refused to give up smoking even though she’d had a thrombosis when she was 11 and she refused to put into practice their diet and exercise advice, that she actually gained weight… doh!    Twelve weeks later everyone else’s health is much improved and they look wonderful.

After watching the programme I am filled with great resolve to be a good girl until I turn over and watch Nigella.  I think Nigella is a bit like Marmite… you either love her or hate her.   I enjoyed Nigella Bites, but Nigella Express was… well… weird.   She loves cooking (so do I) and she loves her food (so do I).   Why is life so complicated?

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In am struggling with my book, We Need to Talk About Kevin, and the meeting is next week.   It has become something akin to homework and I never did like homework.  I have been told to persevere because there is a twist, but I am wondering whether to skip to the end, google it and crib or wait and be put out my misery.  Watch this space!

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Another week, so here’s the latest on my foray into internet dating, although I have actually yet to meet any of these men in the flesh so to speak.  They all sweet talk.  They all flatter.  They all shmooze.  They all talk about tactile and passion.  So, I still get these emails every day, or several times a day,  saying “we have matches for you” which is a loada baloney.       The youngsters are still at it, but I ignore them.  I told Jamie about the 31 year olds and he shifted about somewhat embarrassed then told me that apparently some of Jon’s peers used to fancy me when they were like 15 or 16.  That was about 15 years ago… UGH! 

Still  I have corresponded with a couple of seemingly nice men, having made the initial contact myself.   This dating group’s motto is “it’s okay to make the first move.“   The first guy I tried told me that timing is everything and I’m too late; he’d met someone, so I just wished him luck.  I wasn’t sure whether to add that if it fell apart, you know… but I didn’t want to seem too pushy.      

Then I saw another profile that read well.   I emailed him and my parting words were that I would still appreciate the courtesy of a reply even if it’s to tell me I’m not his cup of tea.   He did reply and said he’d like to correspond, but he’s in Israel at the moment and will be back next week.   I answered him, but haven’t heard another word!   

Today I read another profile I liked, so tried again.    This guy actually IM’d me back immediately, but he happened to be in Miami and will also be back in the country next week, so we chatted for a while until he asked me to telephone him.   I did, but the hotel wouldn’t put me through without a surname and I only knew his first name.   He told me.   It was Cohen.   Ah… that opens a whole new can of worms.  

A Cohen is a descendent from Aaron, the brother of Moses, who was a priest.  Although today most of the priestly duties no longer exist, a Cohen is prohibited from marrying a divorced woman.   In fact I read another profile I liked and as an afterthought this man had actually written that no divorcees should contact him.    The point is I am looking for a fairly observant man because, well I am, but this truly pains me.  It is Jewish law and I have to accept it (not that I’m sure I want to marry anyway, although all the men I’ve spoken to believe that’s what all the women want).  Of course, it’s not a problem if you’re not orthodox because there are plenty of Liberal/Reform/Conservative alternatives.

The funny thing is that coincidentally and without exception, all these men are younger than me; so… all in all very interesting, but I won’t hold my breath.  

Right, must move myself as the mob will be here any minute and I’ve still got to set the table.   I hope I get round to seeing ya’all  and you and yours have a superduper weekend and Shabbat Shalom.  

P.S.  Later today

I have a confession and likely it’s not much different to most ladies who have a problem with body image and a loathing for a particular part of their body, although in my case it’s most of it.    I caught another prog tonite and typical of me, it was the last in the series, so I hope it gets repeated.   It was something like looking good naked, but the woman who thought she looked naf and wore her hubbies baggy t-shirts had a wonderful hour-glass figure… and she was young…. and she was beautiful. HUH!   But, there were about 100 women of all ages, shapes and sizes happily prancing around in their underwear in front of the cameras…  this got me thinking, again…

… because

every single man I have spoken to from this online dating thingy is obsessed with my body, asking an assortment of questions about my size, my weight, what kinda clothes I wear, where I shop, how trendy am I, do I wear high heels, makeup, lipgloss, even my vital statistics and remarking how titchy I am because I’m only 5′0″ tall short (I think petite sounds so much nicer) and exactly just how fat cuddly am I, that I invariably come off the phone feeling uncomfortable and inadequate and thinking it would probably be best if we don’t ever actually meet because they are sure gonna be in for a mega disappointment. 

Today’s guy saw my picci from Jamie’s wedding and guessed I was a size 10 (a U.S. size 6)… yeah well I was once and those clothes are now lurking in an abandoned wardrobe in one of my spare bedrooms; I certainly wasn’t last summer.   It’s now becoming an art form in how to avoid answering these questions and suggesting that a little mystery is no bad thing.   Next time I shall be a little more assertive and on the offensive and ask the next poor guy why it’s so important to him… that should be interesting!  This is quite a learning curve and would I be so bold?

Do I ask them the size of their chest, their neck measurement, whether they’re bald or hirsute, how old their pic is on their profile, their weight or especially the size of their hands and feet so I can maybe gauge the size of their dangly bits?   No, of course, I don’t, that would be plain rude.    Let’s take our dearest darling Vincent D’Onofrio… yes let’s take him.    Most of his fans first discovered him as the quirky uberhero ultra intelligent big big big Bobby Goren  and over seven seasons he is obviously older, like by seven years, but he is also fatter cuddlier and greyer his hair is salt and pepper and the wrinkles frownlines are appearing and he is still under 50… but..

…  have we stopped loving him?  NO NO NO! 

…  do we still fancy the pants off him?   YES YES YES!

Vincent is not classically handsome; the Hollywood stereotype.   You can’t put your finger on exactly what it is that makes him attractive to millions of women; he just has that je ne sais quoi that exudes masculinity and sexuality, but to me so does Patrick Stewart and Alan Rickman and Colin Firth and Bill Nighy and none of them look alike.   So my question is, why are these men  so preoccupied with looks when it’s something impalpable, intangible and elusive that draws two people together, and often two unlikely people? 

P.P.S.  The almost Vincent lookalike has still not opened my email; maybe he’s one of online dating’s success stories

Excuses, excuses

One of my many blogging intentions was to extend my book club reading group to fellow bloggers.  Last month’s book offering was by Frank McCourt.  His amazing debut novel was Angela’s Ashes about his miserable and impoverished childhood in Ireland; his second not quite so amazing book was ‘Tis about his early years in America and his third book Teacher Man is more like  an arrogant anecdotal account of how he broadly educated his students rather than actually ‘teach’ them following the  school’s set curriculum. 

He feels he was a fraud standing before his students; he was terrified of them, so he got by for 30 years telling stories of his life, although advised never to let the kids know your personal life.   Although the book got a general thumbs down from my friends, it was not an out and out ‘hate it’ review, it just wasn’t a page turner.   One particular amusing highlight of the book though was when he’d kept his students’ excuse notes in his desk drawer; they were obviously not written by their  parents.  One day he read these amazing letters out to the class to illustrate their creative ability thus encouraging them to write freely; he then got them to write excuse notes from Adam and Eve to G-d.  He wanted to broaden their intellect and teach them to think.  He didn’t actually write his first book until he was 66.

Well, I think this kinda leads nicely to my excuse note for my absence here and at your places. 

An  engagement party does not get organised by itself!   I’m pleased to say it’s all sorted, the venue found (menu still to be discussed) the invitations chosen, printed, collected, written and posted and so the phone hasn’t stopped ringing with replies… it is now only two weeks away.

Rach and I also spent the last two Sundays  looking for THE dress.  Oh my word… we had a great time.   It was amazingly easy to eliminate what didn’t suit so we could work out “what not to wear” but when she put on THE ONE she looked like a princess.    I thought I was gonna cry, but surprisingly I didn’t.  This particular shop is local to her and they especially opened on a Sunday for her and will especially open late for her fittings.   (She works in the City in banking… long hours blah blah blah).  Rachel, bless her,  is no shrinking violet and she will look stunning.   I thought that since the name of the make of the gown is Hollywood Dreams it came from the States, but actually the owner of the bridal shop is the designer and she makes them.  It takes about eight months, so should be ready just in time, not that we’ve actually sorted the wedding yet, but we’re looking at the beginning of September.  We have met up with the wedding planner and sorted dates in February to go look at venues… I’m getting quite excited.

Last Sunday was very successful for madame; she also bought a lovely dress for her engagement party and a little something for another party next week and a rather nice pair of shoes.   All in all a good day.   Since there was no time for moi, I took a few hours out for myself during the week.   I have three functions over the next three weekends and of course it’s the same lame cry, “I’ve got nothing to wear.”    Three outfits later (the shoe shopping will be this week) I don’t know which one to wear for which party.   Such problems… if only they were my biggest.  Oy, you should only know!

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Two weeks ago I got persuaded by a rather persuasive friend who rather forcibly yanked my credit card from my wallet and made me, yes she made me do it, she made me register with an online dating thingy.   My kids had posted a profile a few years ago, but I had never activated the darn subscription… now I’m on for six months.  It has been quite an experience and I can’t say I’ve particularly enjoyed it so far.  

Men are funny creatures!  

Wait, I’ll qualify that statement.  

British men are funny creatures!

Hold on… no

Jewish British men are funny creatures!  It is Jewish online dating!

Why oh why am I getting so many 31 year olds contacting me?   I really have no problem being with a younger man, but my No.1 son will be 31 in a couple of months!   I maintain that as long as I’m not old enough to be their mother, then that’s okay, but I do draw the line there.   However, when I get the email that says ”we have a match for you” and there are about 200-300 of them, they can’t really believe they could all be possible matches.    Trust me please, you have to believe me, their mugshots  photographs would make anyone run a mile, or two, or three. 

One guy contacted me; when I read his profile he’d only copied mine.  Others who’ve emailed or im’ed live miles and miles and miles away, like as far north as you can possibly get or on a remote island somewhere.    Another guy kept calling and I couldn’t get off the phone… he said he’d never talked to anyone like me before and he’d fallen in like with me and couldn’t wait to meet me (oh please).  I guess that was until he found someone else to sweet talk because I haven’t heard another word… thank goodness.   

I have to admit I’m rather relieved; he unnerved me and I think I told him way too much… he was clever!   Yet another one is desperate to get married.  Now that really frightened me off  and it got me thinking hard and deeply about what I really want and I’m not sure that marriage is the answer to my needs.   I guess I’ve come to enjoy my freedom and not having to answer to anyone and not having to wash smelly socks and not ironing endless shirts and eating what I like when I like and not spending an evening with a man who simply does not know what to watch on the box so monopolises the remote control and zapps and zapps all night, then rolls over, falls asleep and snores on the couch until you change the prog… the funny thing is they wake up then and say they were watching that; how do they do that?   

I suppose all that’s wanted is to meet someone who will take you out to dinner/theatre/concerts etc with some great conversation thrown in and maybe a… a… good kisser and… and… hmmm… is that too much to ask?   Yeah, a simcha buddy!  Vacancy not yet filled.

Interestingly this site covers the whole wide world.   Having an inquisitive bent, I looked at the American men.   WOW!!!!   They really know how to present themselves.   They all scrubbed up well; they were gorgeous and their profiles articulate.  What is wrong with you Brits????   Yuck yuck and double yuck!!!!

However, I shouldn’t dismiss it out of hand totally because I have heard of some success stories; I wonder what the ratio is to the NOT success stories… hmmmm!

Oh oh oh… this is a good one.   Last Friday Jamie popped round to see me as a new “we have matches for you” blah blah popped up.  I opened it in front of him and we both freaked out… there was a pic of the cutest bearded guy who was a dead ringer of a bearded Vincent at the POTC premiere.   Of course I had to send this gorgeous guy an email…

… he hasn’t opened it… doh!!!!!

******************************

Thank goodness for music and Vincent D’Onofrio; they never let me down.

Did anyone get to see Take That in concert?   Boo hoo, I missed it, but I did see James Blunt a couple of weeks ago.   I know he’s not to everyone’s taste, but the Hammersmith Apollo was pretty chocka and I was astounded at the number of guys there.  I honestly didn’t believe men liked that sort of music.   Of course I knew every word and sang along… okay I can’t really sing a note, but no one seemed to notice.   He’s only released two albums and every track’s a winner.  

My current ab fab fav song is Take That’s Rule the World.  It comes from the film Stardust which was perfect viewing on a recent flight… not sure I would have felt the same if I’d coughed up some dosh to see it at the flicks.   I don’t know about you, but if  I wake up to the radio playing one of my fav songs, it sets me up beautifully for the day.  I think a video of Vincent D’Onofrio to this track would be magical… hint hint!   That man sure lights up the sky above me and the ground beneath me and the world around me…

******************************

Another ab fab fav of mine is an old one, Iris, and lo and behold surfing YouTube I found this brilliant video by Jenn of Vincent/Bobby to the Goo Goo Dolls… Jenn it’s fantastic, thank you.

******************************

I cannot leave without wishing my ab fab fav little man Boaz

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOTEK… GWAN’MA LOVES YOU SO MUCH… xxxxxx

He was three this week and I’ll be with him again in just three weeks time.  See the pile of clothes he’s carrying… that’s what I took out last month when I was there (and a holdall filled with toys).  He had to try the whole lot on and look at himself in the mirror… quite the little poser.  This trip I am travelling light!

******************************

I have a long lazy day ahead of me tomorrow, but a frenetic one on Sunday.  I should read next month’s book, We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver; does anyone know it?    I’m also gonna try and come by and say hello to you all.   I just don’t know how so many of you manage to post every single day.  I feel really virtuous when I manage to visit everyone and put up more than one post a month; a bit like how I felt earlier this week when I cleared up six months worth of paperwork.  Well I had to find the paying in slip for the taxman!   Curiously I checked my online bank account this morning; Mr Taxman did not waste a minute banking it!

The best laugh I had this week… NOT… was when I opened a letter on Wednesday 23 January dated Monday 21 January telling me how well a little investment I had was doing and that it would mature two years early and then on Tuesday 22 January the bottom went out of the Stock Market thanks to a greedy little Frenchman… huh!  C’est la vie; guess I’ll have to wait another two years!  

Think I’ve prattled and rambled long enough… I hope you and yours all have a terrific weekend and Shabbat Shalom.

Broken

lost
that bond
it’s gone
felt it slip away
the silence
heard the snap
as it cracked
apart

power
games people play
trusted
her life
her love
her secrets
she gave
too much away

Addicted to…

Before I get carried away with this post and totally forget, for those few in the know and for those few still interested mrsbg has aroused herself (actually I think mrbg aroused her).   She has arisen from her unexplained hibernation since last June.   She sniffed the air, dusted herself down and posted a new chapter.  Her muse had deserted her, left her, dumped her, but surprisingly and slowly and pleasingly he returned; she hopes it wasn’t just a one nighter and he sticks around long enough for more… more… more…

My dear V-Vixens, the above video, borrowed from youtube as you know I’m technically challenged to make my own, is awesome.

~~~oooOooo~~~

Toilet paper!  Yeah, you heard me, loo paper.   Does anyone ever give it any thought?   I certainly hadn’t until the other day, when I opened a new pack and thought I’d spilled some perfume or body lotion, or some sweet scented concoction down the back of my bathroom cupboard.    Now, on delicate matters such as my body and body parts, I do not stint.   My skin is meant to be pampered and spoilt, hence my addiction to lotions and potions, oils and salt scrubs, spa treats etc. and double quilted, triple velvet,  quadruple layered, extra padded… shhh…  you know what!  You name it, I will use it, but nothing that hints or screams that it is economy.    I’m worth it you know!   

It turned out the unspilled perfume was a particular item I had unwittingly purchased called Charmin Fresh Linen, that claims it “Freshens up your bathroom! Scent on core” … and it does too!  Which reminds me of once being asked to take part in market research on this same subject.  What on earth could anyone talk about or ask about toilet paper?   A lot apparently!    I really had to think hard about how many sheets I used, did I tear it off at the perforations or did I rip it off, did I fold it or did I scrunch it, did I buy it in bulk on offer or in small sizes, did I only buy white, did I buy coloured to match a bathroom or did I buy pretty patterned for guests, how many toilets in the house, did they all have the same toilet paper, how many rolls were used per week/per month… doh!  

Have I left anything out?

~~~oooOooo~~~

I assume most of you think my only tv obsession/addiction is Detective Robert Goren… yes I still like a daily fix of the Divine D’Onofrio aka Bobby Bobby, but I love love love Sex and the City and my ab fab fav Chanukah present was the one from me to me… well it was actually my only Chanukah present.  I couldn’t resist and treated myself to the gorgeous pink and black shoe box set of every episode ever; the complete series.  Why do I get excited then and still have to watch the reruns on tv?  Don’t answer… it’s a silly rhetorical question since it is much the same I guess as having to watch the first three seasons reruns of lo:ci when they’re on the box, even though we own the dvd’s.   Hint hint… when are Seasons 4, 5 and 6 coming out on dvd?   

So back to Sex and the City.  

Lately, I seem to be for ever catching the last ever episodes of the show.   The girls’ journey from the pilot to the end has been extraordinary.   Sex and the City charts the dating scene in New York/Manhattan of four bright beautiful sassy girls.  Charlotte who had no trouble finding love and married twice, yet the one thing she wanted above all else, a baby, was not to be, until the final episode.  Miranda, the driven career girl who got more than she wanted when she became pregnant, yet by the final episode has softened and moved to a house in Brooklyn with her husband, son, housekeeper and confused mother-in-law.  Samantha, the sex driven PR who battles breast cancer and finds love with her drop dead gorgeous toyboy Jerry Smith (he of the Aero bubbles advert… boy did I do a doubletake when I saw him and had to call Rachel to be sure it really was HIM).  Finally Carrie Bradshaw, sex columnist, whose up and down, in and out relationship with Mr Big had me rivetted.  In that wonderful final episode he goes to Paris and tells her she is *the one* (Mr Big is played by Chris Noth aka Detective Mike Logan Law & Order Criminal Intent.  BTW,  I believe our Vincent turned down a role in SATC.  Was it that one)?  I think I would have died and gone to heaven thinking of him as Big. 

An American Girl in Paris (Part Deux) gets me… it gets me crying, crying buckets, crying buckets every single time I watch it, and I watch it a lot.   I can’t wait for the movie.   I saw a trailer on youtube, but I can’t find it now.  I found something else instead below, but it wasn’t the first one I saw.  Carrie is in her frothy wedding dress.  I got so excited… yes, yes, yes, they’re getting married.  Next scene… she’s running from the car and hitting him (who him?) over the head with her bouquet.  Please, please, please could someone put me out of my misery!

~~~oooOooo~~~

An Ode to Max Brenner, Tel Aviv

glacial structure appears
like magic from nowhere
there
where?
there
bang in the heart of city hubbub
amidst tree lined boulevard
strategically placed at crossroads
majestic architecture rises up around
regally looks down at
eyes like saucers, noses pressed, mouths watering
against
triple glazed, shock proof glass

what can it be? you ask

another world

it beckons you; tantalizing
the atmosphere enchants
its heady aroma pulls you in
makes hormones dance
an easy guitar strumming
a babel of language, yet
one common tongue
exquisite, delicious, irresistable
ambrosiotic oasis of pleasure
a sweet indulgence, a treasure
in commercial wilderness

a casual air, subjected to security
appear unconcerned, patient
peeping inside, belies anticipation
because
you don’t care, you don’t mind
trust me
licking lips for what is to come
however long it takes

it

is

worth

the

wait

Sorry, the video I found above recommends New York, but Max Brenner chocolate is universal and was absolutely scrumptious bumptious in Tel Aviv, Israel, it’s place of birth… another mild addiction of mine!

Hmmmm; seems like (almost) all my ab fab fav things are based in New York… what is a London girl to do?

 

 

hApPy nEw YeAr!

I can’t believe it’s 2008… where did last year go?   We think we have all the time in the world, but before you know it, it’s flown from our grasp.   There were some wonderful moments when I wanted time to stand still, moments I constantly rewind in my memory to relive over and over.  Then there were those times when I was wishing my life away wanting to fast forward and escape… you know, those “beam me up Scottie” moments.

Thank you for the lovely wishes on Rachel and Daniel’s engagement and to everyone who’s missing me.  I’m sorry I’ve been somewhat out of the loop.  I apologise for neglecting you, my blogging friends.  When I am overwhelmed I tend to retreat to my shell and lay low.   I do what I have to do at work and at home but then I kinda switch off… no computer, maybe some mindless tv or lotsa music, no answering the telephone (or even the door).  My mind gets in such a jumble I want to be left alone in peace and quiet to recharge my batteries, unscramble my brain, think straight and, sorry, the computer is the last place I turn to or even turn on.  

Well, life has been hectic here, to say the least, and I am overwhelmed what with meeting Daniel’s family (lovely people) and trying to make plans; a few people with hundreds of ideas… oy!   This date, that date, here, there, how many, should we, shouldn’t we, howzabout?????

Well we do have a date for an engagement party; in six weeks time.  The only possible date apparently!   A few days after Rachel’s father is back in the country and a few days before the children go to Israel.  There are plenty of caterers, but finding a reasonably priced venue is the challenge; I mean this is just the engagement, not the wedding.  I don’t think I’ve ever made so many calls, but I am on the case!

Oh, and on to the wedding.   Yes, mine was the lone voice wanting the wedding to be in London, or rather the Essex/Herts countryside.   Surprise, surprise… NOT… it will be in Israel… again.   It looks like my 2008 will be spent much like my 2007… busy busy busy, of course for a beautiful reason.   With so much sorrow in the world (I had two funerals this week; one the natural order, a friend’s elderly father, the other a contemporary of mine) when there is something to celebrate, I believe you have to make the most of it.    I shall try not to moan too much, but I do remember last year posting the single word, in big, big, big print and in bright, bright, bright red “SCREAM“

Next month (yes next month will be February already) and coincidentally at the same time that Rachel and Daniel will be in Israel for a friend’s wedding, Jon has some leave and wants me to visit them while he’s at home from work; they really wanna go away and leave me to babysit.   I’m hardly gonna say no to seeing my babies.  Boaz told Jon he wanted to call ’gwanma’ to ask me when I was coming back… aw makes me go all soppy and cry.    This trip I shall combine pleasure with business and go with the bride and groom looking for the perfect wedding venue… and so it goes on.

Enough of my rambling.

Today is New Year’s Day,  1 January 2008.    A new day, a new year… new resolutions; I had chocolate for breakfast so what hope is there ever for me to lose weight?   Forget new year resolutions.   I don’t think a day goes by when I don’t reflect and think I could do better, be better and determine to change my ways.   I want to be a good person… my spirit is willing but sometimes the message isn’t always received and understood. It’s so easy to be tempted from the straight and narrow; it’s finding that right balance of doing right, enjoying life and having fun.     My dear friends, may you and yours be blessed with a year of good health, great joy, contentment and happiness, eternal love, much luck, dreams come true and…  fun fun fun 

… and talking of fun, some gratuitous vincent, albeit a mix of laughter and tears matched with a song we surely all sing in our heart for him; for the v-vixens; a bit of my ab fab Vincent D’Onofrio movie role… Robert E Howard

lotsa luv and best wishes to ya all for a wonderful 2008 …      ann …      xxxxx