The Hills Are Alive…And Crawling With Tourists

Posted on November 6, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

As I mentioned yesterday, Dan and I once traveled to Salzburg, and my personal favorite part of the trip was a 4 hour The Sound of Music bus tour.  We don’t typically jump on a bus with a bunch of other Americans when we travel, but it couldn’t be helped.

As soon as we hopped on the bus, the soundtrack from the movie began playing on an endless loop.  We (meaning everyone on the bus except Dan) sang I am 16 Going on 17 so many times that Liesl would have been 30 by the time we finished.  That song has special significance to me; without it I would have never learned what “cad” meant at such an early age.  How do you Solve a Problem like Maria? brought me back to my college days, when my friend used to lead a sing-a-long for her roommate, Maria.  To this day I still don’t know how you take a cloud and pin it down.  And despite the timeless lesson of Do Re Mi, I can’t read music or sing.

The tour would have been a lot better if they didn’t insist on telling us the “real” story of the Family Von Trapp.  The real Maria was apparently nothing like Julie Andrews’ Maria in the movie; she was actually short-tempered and prone to throwing things when she was angry.  She married the Captain because she loved the children, but she made it very clear she wasn’t in love with her husband.  There was no gazebo, no Baroness, and no escape on foot over the Alps.  They made their escape by climbing onto a train headed for Italy.  The church we visited was where the Captain and Maria were married in the movie; in reality they got married in Maria’s former convent.  Here’s the real deal Von Trapp Family:

Who wants to know all that?  I much prefer the romantic movie version of their life.  So when we arrived at the gazebo that was built for the movie, I figured I’d jump up on the bench and try to dance like Liesl.  Then I remembered that I’m me, Arthur Murray drop-out, and thought the better of it.  When we got out of the bus in the Alps, I was going to throw off my hat, twirl in the wind, and sing The Sound of Music.  But I wasn’t wearing a hat, twirling would no doubt end in injury, and I really can’t sing at all.  Here’s the Von Trapp Family as I like to think of them:

Dan and I stood on that very spot in the Mirabel Platz and got all goosebumpy.  OK, I got all goosebumpy and Dan got bored.  While I loved every minute of the tour Dan was less enthusiastic; like a lot less.  Every time I glanced over at him he was slumped in his seat with his head in his hands.  He bounded off the bus at every stop, relieved to get away from the, well, gestalt of it.

As the bus circled back into town, we came up a road with a bunch of trees on both sides.  In the movie it’s the street where the children were all hanging out in the trees, wearing their new play clothes, when the Captain came home.  If I squinted just a little, I could almost see those fictional Von Trapp kids, dressed in their very fashionable play clothes made from drapes (although Scarlett O’Hara did it first), smiling for the camera.

As we pulled in to our last stop, the bus driver played Edelweiss, again; and everyone but Dan sang along, again, and then they gave us packs of Edelweiss seeds as a souvenir.  Every time I saw the pack of seeds sitting around, I would start “singing” again.  Dan says he has no idea what ever happened to those seeds.

 

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Picture Perfect

Posted on November 5, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

I hate to pick on CJ and Lisa, but the thing is, they have the instant, perfect for any occasion gift for our parents; pictures of the kids.  Artsy black and whites, the kids dressed up in matching sailor outfits, sports cards, Halloween costumes; dance costumes, wallet size school photos, you name it.  Meanwhile, Dan and I are stuck shopping for perfume and robes and gadgets and doo-dads for every occasion.

Their neighbor and good friend used to take beautiful artsy pictures of the kids walking through the woods, holding hands, or putting all their heads together acting as if they liked each other.

Well we have neighbors and friends too you know.  The little girl who lived next door to us, well, isn’t a little girl anymore and just got married.  But the point is that when she was younger she and her brothers used to cat-sit while we were away.  She is a talented artist, and at some point took really beautiful sepia and black and white photos of our cats at the time, Sophie and Mukki.

When Hanukkah rolled around we proudly presented the beautifully framed photos to my folks.  Naturally they got a little teary-eyed, especially when I started looking at spots in their living room where they might be able to hang the photos.  Dan pulled out a hammer and picture hangers but for some reason they insisted it would be better to hang them later.  All these years and they still haven’t had a minute to get them up on the wall.

When my niece got in to American Girl dolls, suddenly there were formal portraits of her and her dolls.  You think I’m going to let that one go?  No way.  I bought one of those realistic baby dolls and set her up in front of the fireplace with dozens of wrapped gifts all around her.  Bam, just like that, we had another Hanukkah gift.

We’ve had lots of great photo ops since then.  Years ago we went to Salzburg and took The Sound of Music Tour.  When we got to the church where the Captain and Maria were married in the movie, Dan and I asked someone to snap our picture.  What better Hanukkah gift than a photo of Dan and me at a church altar?  Of course, there was also the picture of me with Mr. Peanut that I described in an earlier blog.

We’ve kind of run out of photo ideas at this point but the folks are getting old and blind as bats so we feel it would be OK to fudge just a little.  Please send slightly blurry pictures of your kids so my parents can enjoy a Happy Hanukkah this year.  We thank you for your support.

 

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Cat Registry

Posted on November 4, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

In hindsight, perhaps my post yesterday about baby gear was a little harsh.  I’m not one of those people who compare their cats to other people’s kids-even when the cats are clearly superior.

I did a little research today, and found that there is at least as much cat stuff out there as baby stuff, and our cats have simply been deprived.  We somehow neglected to register for gifts when we brought the four cats home, but better late than never!  Here are some items on our wish list…

There is, and I could not make this up, a Litter Genie.  In fact there are various models of litter genies and self-cleaning litter pans.  We don’t have a strong preference for which type to buy; just remember we need 4 of them-

If we want to upgrade litter boxes so we can put them in the living room and dining room, we think this looks pretty classy

They need beds (classic or modern), baths and pack and plays

 

I suppose we need sort of a stroller in case we want to take them to a mall or something.  We need two doubles-

Apparently we’re supposed to be grooming the cats (we thought we’d picked up the self-grooming type); I’ve discovered cat eye glasses, although I don’t know how we’d get a cat to keep them on.  They need a jungle gym to keep them in shape (especially Helen)

As winter approaches, the cats do need some warm sleepers, and of course party clothes for the holiday season.

We’ll be throwing 4 birthday parties this year, and don’t forget arts and crafts stuff to keep them busy-look at this cat throwing pottery!

If we were strict parents, we might insist that the cats sit quietly when we have guests-

But more than likely we’ll spoil them rotten, with a castle for the girls, and a rustic play area for Jack

Heck, we might even look the other way when they sneak out to hang with their friends…

Who knew we could acquire 30,000 cubic tons of Mysterious Cat Stuff?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Baby Love

Posted on November 3, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

For the first time in many years I attended a baby shower today.  Most of my friends aren’t really having babies anymore; these days they’re more likely touring college campuses than cruising the aisles at Babies R Us.    I happen to adore the mommy-to-be (daddy’s not too shabby either) and I love seeing her so happy.  I mean apparently she is getting a little…or a lot uncomfortable at this point, if you count not being able to bend over and the whole lack of sleep thing.  She is the biggest animal lover I know, and she usually twists herself into a pretzel to get in bed without disturbing the cats and dogs.  Today she mentioned that she kicked all the animals off the bed so she could try the body pillow that’s supposed to help her sleep.  It’s just that bad.

The shower was very nice, with an adorable giraffe theme, mommy’s favorite.

When my friend started opening gifts, I remembered how confused I get at these things.  I understand the clothes and crib sheets and bottles; I ooh and aah over the darling stuffed animals and little blankets.

I do know about the diaper genie, but I’ve never really seen one up close and I’m not exactly sure what it does.  To be honest, I really don’t like to think about it.

But at some point Mysterious Baby Stuff (MBS) starts to appear.  There is a huge wall of MBS in Babies R Us.  I just stare at everything and wonder what and why.  You know the wall I’m talking about?  There are a lot of maintenance tools-items that clean out baby’s ears and nose, little clippers for their tiny nails, lotions and powders for their newborn skin, wipes and wipe warmers and wipe cases (quite fashionable, as I discovered today), humidifiers; the list is endless.

That’s a lot of items for one tiny little person who does nothing but eat, poop and hopefully sleep.  I always think babies would be just fine for a while if you treated them like a puppy-a sturdy cardboard box lined with newspapers (the comics would be a fun theme), one of those puppy pad things, and a chew toy.

Then I remember when my niece and nephews were babies.  When CJ and Lisa came to visit their car was stuffed with strollers and pack-n-plays and clip on high chairs and sippy cups and jungle gyms and who knows what else.

In and out CJ would go, bringing in more armloads of MBS.  He started muttering under his breath a lot, which seems to be a dad thing, and his mantra was “30,000 cubic tons of sh*t.  I can’t believe we need 30,000 cubic tons of sh*t!”

I wish I could have helped him but I was super busy kissing and playing with the baby.  As their family continued to grow it seemed like the load grew exponentially, and by the time CJ hauled in all the stuff it was time for him to start hauling it all back out.  As a bystander, it was pretty amusing, but I got the feeling it wasn’t all that much fun for him.

I can see this happening to my friends very soon.  Today alone, their baby girl received at least 15,000 cubic tons of sh*t.  The rest is no doubt on its way.

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Baby It’s Cold Out There (But It’s Warm Inside)

Posted on November 1, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Would you believe I have even another story about a coat check in NY?  Yes, it’s true.  I was invited to a cocktail party at Gordon Ramsay’s fancy schmancy restaurant.  I had a lovely time.  After my coat wreckage incident several weeks before that, I immediately checked my coat when I arrived.

When it was time to leave there was just one young woman working the coat check, and a line of people a mile long.  People were getting grumpy waiting for their coats.  As I got closer, I thought I saw the sleeve of my coat right within reach inside the coat room.  I went to reach for it and once I was holding it realized it wasn’t my coat at all.  I didn’t think I was really crossing the line when I went ahead and slipped inside the coat room to put the coat back.  When I turned around to come back out, some man was impatiently waving his ticket at me asking me to get his coat ASAP.

I know that when most people watch I Love Lucy they think the zany adventures are too far-fetched to be real, but I never think that.  I continue to live right in the middle of a weekly episode.  Look, I could have told the guy that I didn’t work there and walked away.  Considering I was wearing a cocktail dress you would think he would have caught on already, but I realized that when you’re inside the coat room people don’t even look at you, they just cram tickets in your hand.

I found myself feeling very sorry for the lone woman working the coat room, so I went for it.  I took the ticket and asked the woman how the numbering system worked; without batting an eye or asking me what I was doing in the coat room she quickly pointed out the sections and numbers on each rack.

It took us about another 25 minutes to clear out the coat room.  Some people snatched their coat right out of my hands and ignored the tip jar entirely.  Other people thanked me and shoved a few bucks in there.  My competitive spirit popped up and I found myself smiling and being more gracious to each guest in an effort to generate more tips.  When guests didn’t leave a tip I would say “you’re welcome!” as cheerfully as I could muster.  Jerks.

As the last few people left, the woman and I looked at each other and slumped down in the little metal folding chairs in the coat room.  The woman asked me why I helped and I told her it just seemed like she could really use a hand.  She thanked me and graciously offered to share the tips, but I declined.

I wandered outside and realized it had started raining, but I was miraculously able to catch a cab right away.  Karma baby, karma.

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Happy Halloween!

Posted on October 31, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

I absolutely love Halloween.  It is my favorite holiday for many sound reasons:

  1. No family obligations whatsoever, no one has to cook (although admittedly in my family that’s always my sister-in-law Lisa anyway)
  2. No gift giving
  3. No traditions to follow
  4. Celebrate by dressing up in weird costumes, putting up crazy spooky decorations, and eating candy!
  5. Scare small children without reproach (unlike what I get all other times of the year)

So seriously, what’s not to love?  I’m pretty sure that I dressed up as a fairy princess every single year when I was a child.  I’m very sure that my brothers made fun of me for that every year, but they were dumb.  As an adult I’ve dressed up as everything from a California Raisin (remember-they were cool at one time) to a cow with a pink furry belly.

In fact, in one of my posts way back when, I noted that two of my employees in a former firm announced their sexual orientation on the same day.  What I failed to mention is that it was Halloween, and I was dressed as a cow from head to toe, including pink glitter udders on my hat.  I’m going to say it was an interesting day to be having a serious discussion with employees.  Just for fun I also had to unexpectedly meet with an employee in HR that day, and our HR manager kept signaling to me to take off the hat.  I kept signaling back “bad hat hair, not happening!”  Here I am modeling the hat as a possible head cover choice after chemo.  It was July, so kind of nixed that one.  I think you’ll agree it was pretty awesome though.

I don’t typically come to work in costume any more, but I decorate my office every year, and somehow it keeps escalating, so I would say it is officially over the top now.

But hey, Halloween is the holiday of excess everything, go big or go home.  You don’t do Halloween classy, you do Halloween in the tackiest fashion possible.

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A Fine Saturday

Posted on October 30, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Before the Frankenstorm hit, I enjoyed a really nice Saturday.  I hung with some girlfriends; we went to see the Women Who Rock exhibit at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, had a nice lunch, and made our way over to a Crafts2Wear show.  The exhibit was amazing; a timeline  from Mahalia Jackson to Lady Gaga.  We couldn’t help but sing some of the songs that popped in to our heads when we looked at artifacts from various artists; I’m not entirely sure the other patrons enjoyed our “serenading”, but if I’m not going to “sing” at a Women Who Rock exhibit, where am I going to howl (uh, sing)?  It was all worth it because I  discovered that one of my friends knows every word to Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.  I love her just a little more for that.

We moved on to Crafts2Wear to ooh and ahh over the hand-made clothing and jewelry on display.  I tried on a beautiful jacket, and as I admired myself in the mirror I inquired about the price.  When the artist said $760, I tried to play it cool, but I don’t think I was successful.  I very carefully and very quickly removed the jacket and moved on to the next booth, where I looked at but didn’t touch $800 scarves.

Of the five women, only two of us are married, and over lunch the singles regaled us with stories of Dates Gone Bad.  One of the women was invited to her date’s home for brunch.  When she got there, the man was buck naked and announced he was a nudist (clearly.)  Trying to be open-minded, she stayed for brunch.  Unfortunately, brunch consisted of a can of tuna dumped on a plate, a package of stale Saltines and some sort of bubbling alcoholic beverage he referred to as champagne.  To add insult to injury, the tuna and crackers were cheap generics.  She pointed out that maybe if he had served buttery Ritz crackers and fancy albacore tuna things could have been different.

Another woman described one of her blind dates as, well, let’s say “vertically challenged.”  She said not only were his eyes tiny little dots, he had some kind of problem where they constantly flipped back and forth from pupils to just the whites.  That is what I call creepy.  In the course of their painfully bad evening, my friend learned that her date was a National Tiddly Winks Champion.   Little did she know she had reeled in such a catch!  Imagine the glamorous life of the First Lady of Tiddly Winks.  Her life could have been filled with red carpet galas, designer clothes, diamonds and fancy cars, but alas, she just walked away.

Not long after the date, she opened up The Washington Post and saw a piece on Tiddly Winks, featuring a profile of the National Champion.  There was his picture in the newspaper, creepy eyes and all.  Sure is a small world.

I have another friend who used to have awesome weird date stories, but she got married 6 or 7 years ago.  I’m happy for her and all but her stories dried up fast.  While I hope all of my single friends find their soulmates, I have to admit I love the crazy date stories.

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Heeeeere’s Chrissy!

Posted on October 29, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

I hope you realize I’ve only blogged about 2 of my 4 cats, and since most of you are stuck inside riding out the storm, you just may be bored enough to read about cat #3, Chrissy.  She is a little gray and cream striped tabby.  Here’s how she looked the day we brought her home:

The always amazing Washington Animal Rescue League saved Chrissy from a tornado in Tuscaloosa when she was just a few weeks old.  Understandably, she’s a little clingy.  Actually, a lot clingy, and she continues to try to nurse by sucking on my neck despite the fact that it has never worked.  Chrissy is the only cat I’ve ever seen who begs to be picked up and carried around.

She especially loves hanging out in my bathroom with me, which would be fine if she didn’t want to climb up on me, walk across my back, steal my hair bands, and bat my toothbrush while I’m trying to use it.  She really loves helping me with my contact lenses.  Every day, I have to try to fake her out and get in there and shut the door before she comes galloping behind me.  Sometimes, at the moment I slam the door the last thing I see is her determined little face running toward me full speed.

For anyone keeping track of the Cat Containment Procedures, this means that I have to back my way into my bathroom, just like I have to in order to get out of the house or in to a closet.  Some days it’s just too much and I let her follow me in to the bathroom.  There is only one spot, right in the middle of my bathroom, where I can stand relatively safely.  If I’m not in the exact sweet spot she will hurl herself across the room and land on my back.  So there I am standing in the middle of the room trying to balance toothpaste and lens solution and make-up remover so I don’t have to step outside the zone.  It would be pretty funny if I wasn’t the one trying to deal with her.

At least she tries to be helpful around the house..

While all cats love to sniff around, Chrissy takes it to an art form.  When we pour any kind of carbonated beverage, she is there in a flash to stick her face too close and get her nose tickled.  She makes a face like she doesn’t like it, but she apparently wants to be certain because she keeps doing it over and over again.  She’s also one of the fastest cats in the house; I think she’s hit land speeds in excess of 125 mph during particularly lively chases.  And she is hands down the biggest drama queen of the group, perfecting both a high-pitched whine and the most pathetic silent howl you’ve ever seen.

As it turns out, Chrissy’s Three’s Company namesake was actually (well, fictionally) named Christmas Noelle Snow.  That full name comes in handy from time to time.  She knows she’s in trouble if she hears “Christmas Noelle Snow get your butt down here right this minute!”  Unfortunately, she just doesn’t care.

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Hope everyone is staying safe, dry and warm during Sandy’s wrath.  Thanks to The Washington Animal Rescue League countless cats and dogs will be kept out of harm’s way as well.  WARL does not euthanize healthy animals and it is one of the most progressive shelters in the country.  I encourage you to check them out at www.warl.org.

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Sandy’s Coming

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Thanks for checking in at Universal Musings.  The author is currently offline trying to find places to store the milk, bread, water, toilet paper and Oreos she purchased to ride out the storm.  The author’s husband is rolling his eyes at the author and reading the paper.  The author’s cats are safe and warm, but a little anxious.

Everyone take good care and stay safe.

 

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Did It Just Get Chilly In Here?

Posted on October 27, 2012 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Heaven knows I have embarrassed myself in countless ways, countless times.  One of my more spectacular incidents was in a crowded Manhattan restaurant.  Where shall I begin…oh, at the coat check.  When my colleague and I walked into the restaurant the hostess immediately asked to check our coats.  I politely declined; I can’t tell you why but I’m not a big fan of the restaurant coat check.  The hostess, polite but firm, told me they preferred all of their guests to check their coats; the tables were close together and already set, so it didn’t take much to knock your coat on a table and knock everything off of it.

I smiled sweetly and said that she apparently thought I’d never eaten anywhere more upscale than a Bob’s Big Boy and didn’t know how to act in a fine establishment.  I was haughty; I was outraged; I was indignant.  After glaring at me for an uncomfortable period of time, she finally just led us to our seats.  I held my coat close and made it to the table without so much as brushing anything else.

We enjoyed a lovely and uneventful dinner, and when we got up to leave I’d sort of forgotten the whole coat check thing.  I stepped out of the booth and swung my coat around behind me to put it back on.  Yes, you know where this is headed…nothing short of complete humiliation.  My coat and I managed to take out plates, glassware, and silverware in a wide swath across a round table set for 6 people.

It was everything you can imagine and worse; the destruction building up to a final crescendo of plates and glasses breaking on the floor.  Even jaded New Yorkers turned around to stare at me in silence.  But it wasn’t the other patrons that frightened me; it was knowing that I now had no choice but to walk directly to the hostess stand in order to get to the door.  There was kind of a swat team that swept in around us to clean up the mess, and a lot of stage whispering, glaring and tsk-tsking behind the hostess stand.

Walking to the front of the restaurant seemed endless.  I was just a bull trying to tip toe through a china shop.  I went for a weak smile at the end, just to try to play it off, but my heart wasn’t in it.  I endured the sneering, the snide comments, the snickering.

Not a week after The Incident I was speaking with a partner about holiday party venues and he said he had family friends who owned a beautiful restaurant.  I was enthusiastic until he told me the name of the place.  I turned beet red and started back pedaling on choice of venue.  He was not swayed, and told me to call and see if they even had the date available.  I suddenly found religion and prayed my heart out as I dialed.  My prayers were answered when they told me they were booked solid in December.

Nowadays, just to be careful, I only eat in establishments that use plastic tableware.

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