What kind of sports are you illustrating?

Every year that line, or something very similar to it, is found in the letters column of Sports Illustrated in regard to the annual swimsuit issue. For those of you who have never seen this particular issue, the models are beyond gorgeous, the locales are exotic and beautiful, and the suits are from the minimalist wing of the fashion world. In fact, there is more material in Elijah's Thomas the Train underwear than in most of the bikinis featured. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

Either I'm getting older or more realistic, but when I get this issue I usually peruse it pretty quickly and then forget about it. This year was no exception, and it was collecting dust on an end table in our den when Elijah discovered it.

As he looked through the magazine, I wondered what would get his attention. The models? The pictures of the beaches? The ads? Well, I got my answer the next day when he drew his interpretation of Bar Refaeli and her co-models:

English as a foreign language

From the mouths of babes -- or, in our case, 5-year-olds with the language weaknesses of autism combined with a complete misunderstanding of the retail economy:

"Mom, Elijah wants to go to Target and borrow a basketball goal as soon as you get with some money."

Here's to getting with some money!

A day in the life

You hear a lot these days about the plight of the unemployed. Not to minimize what they are going through -- after all, it's beginning to look like we'll all be there eventually -- but what about the plight of the fearing-they'll-soon-be unemployed? Particularly those who are married to a fellow member of that tribe?

Jeff and I both work in recession-eviscerated industries, so worrying about the future is not merely an intellectual exercise in our house. It's an all-out obsession, and it has a disturbing way of weaving itself in and out of virtually every moment of the day.

Think I'm exaggerating? Then pour yourself a cup of coffee, settle in for a spell and take a look at a typical day in my life. This is a day when I am off work, in recognition of the fact that soon, "off work" may be my default condition.

(Yes, this is nauseatingly self-absorbed. That's what you get for reading a blog.)

A Day in the Life of the Tenuously Employed

5:45 a.m.: Groan at the sound of bedroom door opening, knowing I'll never get back to sleep. The resident 5-year-old does not suffer fools who stay in bed past 6 a.m. (It's like having a cat, only with college tuition looming in the future.)

7:15: Finally give up on getting back to sleep, and go downstairs to what, in retrospect, will be the most satisfying part of the day: Curling up on the sofa with a strong cup of coffee and the newspaper. Please note the importance of an actual newspaper, not the Internet, in the Most Satisfying Part of the Day.

8: Begin the process of getting the child fed, toothbrushed, dressed, strapped into car seat and delivered to preschool, in what will later prove to have been the most productive 45 minutes of the day.

8:50: Upon returning home, do a quick check of industry blogs in an effort to determine whether I have been laid off. This sounds absurd, but trust me, it is not.

9:10: After 20 minutes spent scouring industry blogs with unsettling minute-by-minute announcements of job cuts and furloughs at newspapers nationwide, decide to check locally based blogs for information on my specific employer. Feel a strong need to shower afterward.

9:20: After a total of 30 minutes spent on various blogs with the result of finding about five minutes' worth of useful information, decide to access work e-mail to see if any official news on today's rumored layoffs has been disseminated. None has.

9:30: Convince myself that a quick check of Facebook actually constitutes a productive use of my time. Networking, you know.

10:00: Finally finish reading various friends' "25 Random Things" lists, all the while patting myself on the back for the fact that my own "Random Things" list is far more witty and erudite than theirs.

10:01: Realize that I have just associated the words "witty" and "erudite" with the "Random Things" fad, and feel a moment of shame. Then I recall this fad's true value: the spawning of countless spoofs -- many of which are, indeed, witty and erudite. Click here for a good one.

10:02: Realize that I have 28 minutes to get to my son's preschool Valentine's Day party, for which I have been assigned to bring "healthy snacks," as opposed to "fun snacks." This further verifies my status as World's Least-Fun Mom.

10:28: While dashing out the door with aforementioned healthy snacks in hand, recall reading somewhere that careers in education are considered among the most recession-proof.

10:30: Shortly before entering classroom, begin to consider a career change to early childhood education.

10:31: Rethink career change to early childhood education.

10:35: Completely abandon plans for career change to early childhood education.

11:30: Arrive home with sugar-crazed 5-year-old and a week's supply of sweet treats. Begin lunch process, which boils down to fixing, coaxing, threatening, bribing and cleanup.

12:15: Check industry blogs yet again. Read much talk of plans for unpaid furloughs industry-wide.

12:20: Contemplate the phrase "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic." Wonder if anyone actually did this. Don't recall seeing it in the movie.

12:25: Take time to appreciate the value of the Titanic in providing a framework for countless analogies throughout the remainder of the 20th century and into the 21st. Recall headline in "history" book by the great folks at The Onion: "World's Largest Metaphor Hits Ice-berg."

12:30: Realize that only 30 minutes past noon, I have already spent far more time online today than reading the newspaper.

12:31: Perish the thought.

12:35: Spend several minutes contemplating how much garish wallpaper I could remove from my home on a furlough week. Realize that at my home-improvement rate, very little would actually get done. But if I'm laid off until the economy is expected to turn around (fourth quarter of 2010), I might get the downstairs bathroom and the dining room finished.

12:45: Load child into car and head to Very Large Upscale Health Club that I really can't afford but belong to anyway.

2:00: Notice, not for the first time, the number of working-age men at the club in the middle of a weekday afternoon. Can't help but wonder how many of them are here because they have recently lost their jobs.

2:05: Vow to myself not to continue paying Very Large Upscale Health Club membership if anyone in my house loses a job.

2:15: While on cardio machines, read Time magazine cover story on the dire situation in the newspaper industry. Note that it bears a strong resemblance to the Newsweek cover story of two weeks earlier.

2:30: Tired of reading this, look up to the big-screen TV and notice layoff numbers marching across the scroll bar on the bottom of the screen.

2:45: Return home and resist urge to check blogs and work e-mail yet again.

3:30: Notice neighbors gathering outside on an unusually nice winter's day and decide to join them.

3:31: Am immediately asked if I still have a job. Am told that wow, the Internet must really be killing newspapers.

3:32: Explain, for the umpteen millionth time, that newspapers have more readers than ever. After all, they have some of the most-read Web sites out there. The problem is that revenue is plummeting because of the wider economy, which is wiping big advertisers off the map and also reducing the incentive for the surviving competitors to advertise. Circuit City, rest in peace. Linens-N-Things, we hardly knew ye.

3:35: Also, ill-advised corporate mergers resulting in billions of dollars of debt don't help.

4:30: Neighbor who happens to be a bankruptcy attorney joins the conversation.

4:45: After describing the potentially dire situation that could arise in our household this year, discover that my Plan A for keeping the house is not a good one. But walk away with a workable Plan B which I will not repeat here. (Attorney-client privilege, you know.)

5: Launch into the three-hour dinner-playtime-bathtime-storytime-bedtime routine. Manage to not think about layoffs for the entire three hours.

8: Sit down to watch last night's recording of the Daily Show. Jon Stewart's guest is the guy who wrote the Time article on the death of newspapers.

8:15: Curse myself for waiting until this spring to take a community college course updating my skills for a digital age, instead of taking it last year.

9: Start getting ready for bed. Have not checked blogs or e-mail in hours, and am very proud of myself.

10: Watch beginning of newscast that reports the disappearance of a 5-year-old Florida girl who was last seen when she went to bed several nights ago. Cannot keep myself from tiptoeing upstairs to check on my own 5-year-old. He is there. Economy seems to be losing its importance.

10:15: Flipping through the channels, come across a documentary about life for women and children in tribal regions of Afghanistan controlled by the Taliban. Am reminded of another recent documentary about life in sub-Saharan Africa. Beginning to feel a bit foolish about obsessing over paying the bills in my cushy suburban American home.

10:30: Reading a magazine in bed, come across article on parents whose children who were swept away by the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004.

10:35: Have completely let go of my misplaced concern about a layoff that hasn't yet happened and the mortgage on a house that represents more luxury than many people in the world can even imagine.

10:36: Drift off to sleep, hoping to remain asleep until the 5:45 wakeup call.


Because that's when this whole day starts over again.

Another Milestone

Barely a month into the new year, Elijah reached a new milestone: having strangers give his dad a dirty look because his 5-year-old uttered an "expletive deleted" in a public place.

Both Sarah and I knew this was going to occur sooner rather than later, as he has been walking around the house saying "God dammit" for a couple of days now -- not in anger, just as part of his everyday conversation. Since Sarah and I blame each other for teaching Elijah his latest catchphrase (she claims her cussing is not nearly that mild, and I have a selective memory about any cursing I might do around our child), we asked where he had heard such a thing. His response was neither Mom nor Dad, but that purveyor of vile language, Scooby-Doo.

Now I'll admit that cartoons have gotten a little more risque since my youth, but I doubt that any of the gang, while trying to solve some mystery, got frustrated and said the magic words.

Sarah and I let it slide, and today, while in our local market, it came back to bite us. Or, rather, me, since Sarah was safely at work. I had told Elijah to stay by the shopping cart about ten times already and was beginning to lose my patience. Needing to get just one more item, I told him again, in a stern voice, to stand by the cart and not to move. As I walked away he said, to no one in particular -- and, I might add, in a very cheerful voice -- "God dammit ... God dammit," which caught the ear of a woman standing in the aisle.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. She just stared at me as if I was not only the worst parent in the world, but should be hauled away by social services immediately. I wanted to walk right up to her, look her square in the eye and say, "Don't blame me. It's all Shaggy's fault."

Meme....Tootoo

Since I have now seen at least one story every day this week on the phenomenon "25 Things" I feel a need to get my list done before this fad goes the way of the pet rock. (See, Sarah, I will get it done before the end of the month!)

So here goes:

1. I have never seen a single episode of "West Wing," "Everyone Loves Raymond" or "CSI," but have watched countless infomercials from beginning to end.
2. Growing up in Los Angeles, I thought I could never live anywhere else. Now, I can't even fathom raising my child there.
3. I used to love pets, but now every time my son gets near a dog or cat, I fear something bad is going to happen.
4. Because of my back surgery, I have been unable to play racquetball for the last 7 years, the one sport I was pretty good at.
5. Speaking of sports, one that I'm mediocre at, golf, gives me great pleasure. This is especially true when I hit that one great shot during a round and feel I'm ready for the Seniors Tour.
6. I have never played on a Wii or XBox, but still have my "Intellivison" games, whose graphics are one step above "Pong."
7. I truly value my friends, most of whom I've known for over forty years.
8. Although I go to High Holiday services, the only time I went to Temple on a regular basis was during my divorce.
9. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to hit stationary objects while driving. ... Thankfully, none are living, breathing creatures.
10. During my senior year in college, I once bought a term paper, which I then rewrote. I was so ashamed of this that I asked the person to make it average, at best. His response. ..."Dude, it's the same price for an A or a C."
11. I once wrote a script for the show "Cheers" that got, through connections, to the head writer. He called me, told me he enjoyed the script and invited me to watch an episode being filmed. When we met he told me that I should keep at it, that I had a talent for comedic writing. Almost twenty years later, I'm still working on my second script.
12. I don't follow through on things as often as I should.
13. One of my greatest regrets is that when I was at UCLA, a director asked me to audition for a play and I was too scared to show up. Who knows -- it could have been me saying "The plane! the plane!".
14. I didn't speak with my sister for over a year, but now we talk at least a few times a month and her advice and wisdom is something I not only seek but cherish.
15. I always wanted to have the latest in stereo equipment, but due to other expenses, my system today would be called "retro" at best. On the bright side, I did get an iPOD last year and finally put away my Walkman.
16. Most people consider me extremely open, yet I do keep some things to myself and some emotions hidden, even from my closest friend, Sarah.
17. If I'm flipping through the channels and I see that "The Godfather" I or II is on, I will watch them.
18. I've been on three game shows, and like Weird Al Yankovic, I lost on "Jeopardy."
19. I grew up in a loving family that took trips together every year and parents that were involved and concerned in their children's lives. It wasn't until much later in life I realized all families weren't that way.
20. As a child, I could play board games by myself for hours upon hours.
21. My love of rock 'n roll is matched only by my complete lack of musical ability.
22. Although I have traveled all over the world, I have a fear of flying. Oddly, that fear evaporates when I fly with Elijah.
23. When I was younger, my life was more like Ozzy Osborne's. It is now more like Ozzie Nelson's.
24. Once on a childhood vacation with my family, I insisted on, and ate, hamburgers for eight of our nine meals. (One night we went to a Chinese restaurant.) I wonder where Elijah gets his finicky eating habits?
25. When Sarah told me she was pregnant, I jumped into the air and had a smile from ear to ear. With all that has happened over the last five years -- the good and bad -- the smile has only gotten wider.

Meme memories

So I finally gave in and participated in a meme. I was tagged by several friends on Facebook, and the peer pressure finally got to me. (If you're over the age of 60, you may have no idea what a meme is or what Facebook is, but don't worry. You, too, will eventually be sucked in by the online social networking gravitational pull. Resistance is futile.)

Anyway, this particular meme (think of them as chain letters) involves writing 25 things about yourself and passing them on to a bunch of friends, who then write 25 things about themselves, and so it goes, until everyone with an Internet connection has been cornered with demands for their own 25 Things list. It's not one of those that requires you to answer specific questions -- I hate those and never participate in them. But I really enjoyed reading the various responses to this one, because it's open-ended. And I learned a lot of fascinating things about people I've known for decades.

So I thought I'd post mine here because, well, what is blogging all about, if not self-absorption? And because most of my family is not on Facebook. (Get with the program, Mom and Dad!)

Jeff is planning to do this too, but whereas I spent all of 25 minutes on mine, for an average of one minute per entry, he apparently is on the one-day-per-entry writing schedule. So you can expect to see his about the end of February.

Here are my 25 things:

1. I lived in the same town for the first 18 years of my life. The nearest actual traffic signal was 20 miles away. Population: 2,000
2. Because of this, I had no idea until I went to college that you could turn right on red.
3. At age 20 I quit college and ran off with my boyfriend to live in Los Angeles. Metropolitan area population: 14 million.
4. I feel equally at ease in towns of 2,000 or 14 million.
5. I can't start my day without coffee and a newspaper.
6. I went to graduate school and earned a master's degree for no real reason other than I was bored and needed a challenge. (Obviously, this was pre-motherhood).
7. My only child has autism but is one of the sweetest kids you're likely to find.
8. It never even occurred to me to get married until I was 30.
9. I get gripey on any day that I don't do yoga.
10. I moved to the city I currently live in simply because I wanted to learn figure skating and there was no rink in the city I lived in at the time. I did indeed learn, and got pretty good at it!
11. One of the most fun times I've ever had on New Year's Eve was in that little town where I grew up, when I spent the evening with a few close friends.
12. One of the most boring times I've ever had on New Year's Eve was in London, when I spent the evening with thousands of strangers.
13. I met my husband online in 1994, when half of America had never even heard of e-mail.
14. I have lived in a total of only three states but have traveled to at least 40.
15. I'm agnostic. But I love Christmas and always celebrate Chanukah with my husband and our little boy.
16. I once was a volunteer literacy tutor for a woman who was 40 and couldn't read. Her life really opened my eyes to a segment of society I only vaguely knew existed.
17. A group of girlfriends and I once met some charming French guys when we were crossing the English Channel and made arrangements to meet them a few nights later in Paris. Being Americans, we figured they were just like American guys and wouldn't show up (sorry, guys), so we went out on the town that night and later found out that they had come to our hotel, all dressed up to take us out. This was more than 20 years ago, and I STILL feel single-handedly responsible for the Ugly American stereotype.
18. Speaking of Ugly Americans, I've always been really ashamed that I speak only one language.
19. I have no idea how much I weigh. And don't care.
20. I love working out and do so on a regular basis, but you wouldn't know it from looking at me.
21. I hate pretentious people and go out of my way to avoid buying anything with a designer label.
22. While I have no interest in other women's cars or clothes or jewelry, I get insanely jealous of women who have toned upper arms. (While everyone else was admiring Michelle Obama's gown on inauguration night, I was admiring her biceps.)
23. I have been in potentially life-threatening medical situations twice in my life: Once when I was dragged beneath a car at age 8 and once when I was giving birth at age 36.
24. I could live the rest of my life without television or movies, but not without books.
25. I choose to look at age-related body changes as evidence of all the good things I've experienced in life. Those brown spots on my arms? They remind me of all those childhood summers I spent riding ponies on my grandpa's farm. That extra flab around my waist? All that gelato I ate in Italy! And a bit of cellulite where my tummy was all stretched out a few years ago? That's my greatest gift of all: My little boy.