Entries tagged as ‘family’
Upstate, half the people you talk to have never heard of Fire Island and the other half think it’s that gay place. I end up spending a lot of time explaining that there are about a dozen towns on Fire Island and only two of them are considered “gay” —even though one of them, Cherry Grove, is perhaps the gayest place on earth. It makes Provincetown look like Mayberry.
Thanks to the amazing kindness and benevolence of my brother and sister-in-law, we’ll spend next week at the house they own in Ocean Bay Park, which is about 2.5 miles and a world away from Cherry Grove. OBP is considered to be the most ramshackle and rowdy of Fire Island’s communities, famous for its shared rentals, bars, and endless happy hours. We’re staying just steps from the town’s most fascinating feature, the fence that keeps OBP people out of ritzy Point O’ Woods. Yes, a fence. To keep us out.
The fence is 15 feet high and you can only get in through a locked gate. One time we snuck in after tricking some Point O’ Woods children into letting us pass in behind them. They were not yet old enough to know our cheap clothes and vaguely ethnic looking features meant we didn’t belong. Maybe they thought we were there to tend the gardens. Anyway, we strolled through the the meticulous little village, trying desperately to look like we belonged there, but it was pretty clear we didn’t. Maybe we’ll try it again this year, except this time I’ll shave. And bring a tennis racket. And wear a Harvard t-shirt. Then -maybe- I’ll look like I belong there. And I’ll avoid speaking to the locals. If you’ve ever read a Ken Follett spy novel, you know that’s where people tend to get tripped up.
Categories: Modern Living
Tagged: family
I know you’ve all been waiting breathlessly to hear if I screwed up the long Irish blessing I was assigned to recite at my niece’s wedding. Well, it turns out I did OK, thanks to practicing all day Thursday —and to the cheat sheet on my hand. Whew! Good thing.
It was certainly one of the top four weddings I’ve ever been to, the other three being my sister’s wedding (1979), my brother’s wedding (2001), and MY wedding (1987). Interestingly, the one I remember least is my own.
Categories: Marriage
Tagged: family
My niece is getting married Friday, and I was very honored that she asked me to recite the well known Irish blessing that begins, “May the road rise up to meet you…” You know the one. Being half Irish, I take the Irish stuff seriously. The other half is Italian, and I believe that I’ve inherited all the best traits of both these famously cool headed and forgiving people.
She asked that I memorize it, and I figured this is a no-brainer, because that thing is only like two or three lines, right? Wrong. I opened her email and discovered it’s 16 lines long:
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and the rains fall soft upon your fields.
May true be the hearts that love you;
May pure be the joys that surround you.
May you see your children’s children,
May the hand of a friend always be near.
May you know nothing but happiness, from this day forward.
May God be with you and bless you,
May He hold you in the palm of His hand.
And may Almighty God bless you, and all of us.
Uh, oh. I’m going to ruin the wedding.
Categories: Marriage · Uncategorized
Tagged: family
People at home were getting nervous —and they started in with the disclaimers. Zack or Ann would go, “This is not for your blog, but…” Or they’d do something funny and then warn me after that it better not show up on Keyboard Krumbs.
I will not have my home be a place where people are afraid to speak their mind. No one should worry that they’ll be ridiculed for asking a question or expressing themselves in any way. As for the blog, certain things are off limits. And this is why I have established the Not For Blog rule.
Under Not For Blog (NFB), everyone has a yellow flag which they may throw once a week, declaring something NFB. If they see me looking at them funny, or worse yet taking notes, the yellow flag can be used to negate my right to publish it on the blog.
Conversely, I have the right to overrule four NFB calls per month. This is exercised by throwing a red flag I keep tucked in my sock, Bill Belichick style. Weekly NFB declarations may not be carried over and accumulated, but I can use my four overrules any time I like and on anyone I wish. This brings into question the matter of strategy. Do you save your NFB overrules until the last week, or use them as you go along?
I’ve decided to save them because this keeps people on their toes. And since the end of the month is approaching, I’d advise everybody to think before opening their mouths.
Categories: Home · Kids · Marriage · The Internets
Tagged: blogging, control freakiness, family, sports
Mother’s Day is a holiday that must be approached cautiously, like a wounded animal or something that might explode in your face. Follow a couple of simple rules and you should be OK. This week I’ll try to help you with some common sense tips. Today, gadgets and small appliances:
No Gadgets. Don’t buy a gift that you secretly desire for yourself, like a GPS or big TV. One exception I can think of might be an iPod, but only if you load it up with her favorite music. Giving an empty iPod is no way to show mom or your wife that you understand her amazing uniqueness. It’s saying, “Here take this thing that I bought at Best Buy. I didn’t even care enough to walk over to the Apple Store.”
About small appliances, items that plug in like vacuums and kitchen implements are strictly forbidden. An electical cord is something that you could find wrapped around your neck while sleeping. It can also be used as a whip. This is like your employer giving you a new computer. They don’t love you, they want you to do more work.
Mothers are compassionate, caring, and understanding. If you want to test the limits of these virtues, go right ahead. Coming tomorrow: dining out on Mother’s Day.
Categories: Marriage
Tagged: bad ideas, family
Home late from work one night, I was met at the door by two hungry boys. Instead of just running out to Wendy’s or ordering a pizza, I announced that it was hobo night. I started pulling cans out of the cabinet and putting them in a paper bag. What are you making they wanted to know. Nothing. Hobos don’t make dinner, they eat whatever they can find —or steal. Zack asks, “What did we steal?” We stole a bag of canned goods, I explained. From the food pantry. That cheered them up. We went out back and sat on the deck with our bag of stolen food pantry loot, a pocket knife, and three spoons.
I told hobo stories about jumping freight cars and being chased through rail yards by the bulls. We picked some hobo names: Rhode Island Rob, Screwdriver, and Patchy. We dug into our beans and SpagettiOs. Alex ate half a can of sauerkraut. Desert was a big can of peaches. The moon was out and it was getting dark and it was good to be a hobo.
Categories: Home · Kids
Tagged: cooking, family, food
It’s National TV-Turnoff Week, which I once wrote should be called National Get Off Your Fat Ass And Do Something Week. Now that I’m older and wiser, I realize that was a little harsh. A little harsh but maybe a little true.
Moderation, my friends, is the key to happiness. Turning off the TV for an entire week will inevitably lead to TV binging, and binging of any kind is always bad. Here’s what to do: watch less TV for a few days. Drop some things that you don’t really care about. Don’t deprive yourself of what you love, but cut out what you don’t need. And by the way, those of us who work in TV would appreciate it if you get this out of your system by Thursday, because Thursday is the first day of May Sweeps. Actually, maybe Thursday would be a good day to watch a little more local news. With your whole family. Especially if you have a ratings diary. Then go out for a walk.
Categories: News
Tagged: entertainment, family, News, tv
Ann was a little under the weather this week with a stomach bug. Always the caring and sensitive husband, when I got home from work I handed her the Clorox Clean-Up and asked her to wipe down the doorknobs, handles, and any other objects she may have touched. Did you get the remote? She waved a finger at me, and it wasn’t her index finger. Alrighty then.
Look, let’s get this straight: I’m not a germaphobe. If I were a germaphobe, would I allow the the dog eat pasta out of my mouth —and we’re not talking “Lady and The Tramp” style, we’re talking penne. Exactly. And if I were a germaphobe, would I consume perfectly good food that someone carelessly left in the kitchen garbage, or reach elbow deep into the sewer pipe in the basement? I rest my case. This isn’t about germs, this is a public health issue, and if you ask me that’s everyone’s responsibility.
You didn’t touch the refrigerator did you? She gave me that cute little wave again.
Categories: Marriage
Tagged: diy, dogs, family, obsessive compulsive, quirks
So Ann says, “I went over my minutes last month.” You what? “I went over my minutes. Last month.” Really? How many minutes do you get? “Three-thousand.” After I wiped away the coffee that shot out my nose, I cleaned off the laptop and started doing the math. That’s a lot of minutes. It’s fifty hours, or if you prefer, two days and two hours. It’s a week at work these days —and seven nights worth of sleep. It’s a hundred episodes of Thirty Minute Meals.
I don’t think anyone has ever described me as “chatty,” especially not in regard to the phone. My calls are monosyllabic affairs of cryptic guy-speak: “Yeah. Uh-huh. Maybe. You got that right.” But Ann is obviously another story. She loves to talk and people love to talk to her. Sure, some of it is work, but mostly it’s what she does best, being a good friend to the people she cares about.
Maybe I can give her some of my minutes.
Categories: Marriage · Modern Living
Tagged: cell phones, family, Marriage, technology
When Dancing With The Stars comes on, I’m gone. I can’t stand to watch even five seconds of that show—especially not after what they did to Steve Guttenberg this week. Completely unfair. Anyway, I totally leave the room, except if Jason Taylor is on, because that’s more like watching football than dancing —and I DON’T WATCH DANCING. This is despite the fact that I am trained in ballroom dancing. I spent a lot of time with Ann at Lorraine Michaels taking lessons a few years ago. The first night there, the instructor came over and said we’d have to switch partners after each dance. Switch partners? “Yes,” she explained. “In a social situation, you’ll dance with other partners, so you need to get used to it.” Ann was watching to see what came out of my mouth. “Why would I dance with someone else?” It’s nice to know in a life full of saying the wrong things at the right time you can smack one out of the park now and then.
Categories: Marriage
Tagged: dancing, entertainment, family, manly matters
