General
The mice are running rampant in my house – or at least they were.
Mice were in the walls, behind the stove, under the fridge, in the garage, by the couch – anywhere you would expect mice to be – they were there.
We tried professionals – they were useless. The “professionals” blocked up holes and within a day the mice made new ones.
We tried poison – the mice ate the poison and became immune.
We tried traps (glue, old fashioned snap-the-head-off traps, plastic hut traps) – the mice avoided them.
I watched the mice, found their points of entry and then set traps in those spots (anticipating a massacre) – the mice emerged unscathed. We even found traps unsnapped with the bait gone.
Enter Fluffy.
Fluffy lives for the hunt. Her instinct is to attack and kill. She dreams about blood and mouse flesh in her teeth.
The mice are aware of this new predator in their midst and they run in fear. Yes, you can still hear the occasional scurrying in the walls, but gone are the brave forays into the kitchen or out into the open space of the living room (and I suspect even the scurrying will soon come to an end).
Fluffy is still in training. She hones her skills attacking plastic bags, shoelaces, and children. But her killer instincts are apparent to all and I almost pity the first mouse to cross her path.
July 29th, 2008
I guess I must really be a Bostonian now. Why? Because I grew up in New Jersey and always rooted for the Giants. They were my team – you know, LT, Phil Simms, Leonard Marshall, little Joe Morris – they were awesome and I was loyal – I stuck with them through the dark Ray Handley days and everything.
Once I moved to Boston, I kept my soft spot for the Giants, but I was able to justify liking the Pats because Bill Belichick had been the defensive coach for the Giants in the 80’s and through the 1991 Super Bowl.
But I was bummed on Sunday – how did that happen? How did I get to be so “Boston”?
February 5th, 2008
An era has come and gone – we got rid of the couch. For those of you who have been to our house, and witnessed the slow death of the beat-gold thing – this is an auspicious moment indeed.
Remember when it was that huge new monstrosity, dominating much of the living room? And then it faded, and pieces start to fall off, foam was exposed and soon half was gone (“disappeared” by my wife when I was on a trip overseas). The remainder got thinner and thinner, and pieces of gold thread could be sighted around town – my son noticed that parts of our couch are in every significant Jewish building in Boston. Oftentimes parts of the couch would be stuck to my clothes or in my hair. And then the foam, and finally the wood were exposed on the second half – and now it is gone as well – unceremoniously sent away with Tuesday’s trash.
The couch was a generous donation from a wealthy relative, but it was too fragile and couldn’t survive. Good bye old friend – we’ll miss you.
The good news is we got a new toilet.
September 26th, 2007
This guy is so obviously Jewish.
[Daveed Gartenstein-Ross] began to examine his own spiritual identity after experiencing a couple of brushes with death caused by illness. “That kind of thing can cause spiritual discomfort and make you reevaluate what it is that you’re living for,” he told CNN. A college friend introduced him to Islam and he was intrigued by its peaceful message. “Islam was a very simple faith and as I learned more and more about it, it seemed more and more fascinating to me,” he said.
Obviously, the best place for a nice Jewish boy to find Spirituality is Islam.
He experimented with a radical form of Islam that eventually led him to shun music, reject women’s rights and even refuse to touch dogs because he believed this was “according to God’s will.”
Just as obvious – no Jew could “just be a Muslim,” he had to be a radical one.
And when Islam doesn’t do it, what next?
A year later, he converted to Christianity and was eventually baptized in the Baptist church.
Dude, just be Jewish – it is ok – we won’t make fun of you, really.
August 19th, 2007
Check this out - it is me (the “Jew”) dancing with an Arab in the west bank. Saving the world one dance at a time. Maybe I should start a new group - Boogie Without Borders or something like that - any suggestions?
August 7th, 2007
Still another video “script.”
Men, your wife needs to talk.
When she talks, she speaks out her feelings – she sees that you understand her, validate her emotions, and this makes her feel better – it makes her feel very good about you and your relationship.
When she starts talking, she will probably be emotional, and you are probably somehow the cause of her troubles. She will launch into a tirade, filled with wild exaggerations, seemingly directed at you.
Because you are a thickheaded half-monkey (i.e. the typical male), your giant (yet fragile) ego will be bruised, you will get defensive, and your most natural instinct will be to speak up and defend yourself.
WATCH OUT – this is a trap!
Keep your mouth shut, at all costs, don’t say anything – anything you do or say can and WILL be used against you.
Let her talk. Smile, be concerned, empathetic, understanding – and listen to her. Let her know you are listening by saying “Umm” “Uh huh” “Oh really” “Did she really say that?” “I am sorry, that must have really upset you” at points along the way.
When she is done, she will feel good, she got it all out and she knows that you care and understand. She will thank you for being a great husband, a good listener, kind, understanding, and exactly what she needs.
Your only job is to sit on your hands, bite your tongue, let her talk, and don’t be a defensive, stupid male.
July 19th, 2007
This is another video “script.”
What is the key to a successful marriage?
A good marriage is built on understanding – you need to know your spouse’s good points and bad points. You then need to focus on the good points. That nice feeling you get when you think about how kind, caring and wonderful your spouse is, and how this kind, caring, wonderful person married a bum like me, this feeling is called love. Growing in love is the key to a successful marriage.
A bad marriage is also built on understanding: when you know your spouse’s good points and bad points, and then focus on the bad points. If you think too much about how he squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle and doesn’t fold it up neatly from the bottom, or how she is costing you a fortune because she never turns off the lights when she leaves a room – this would be the opposite of love. Growing out of love is the best way to ruin a marriage.
Whether or not your marriage is good or bad is entirely up to you. Your obligation is to know your spouses’ good and bad points and then focus on the good, find more good, and constantly identify her with her goodness.
[If you think a good marriage is yours by right, and you expect her to look for your goodness (which is obviously in abundance), and she will never appreciate you enough (because you are obviously so amazing) – your love will fizzle and you marriage will end in ruins.]
A good marriage doesn’t happen by accident just because you deserve it, you will have a good marriage because you realize that it is your obligation to constantly rediscover how amazing the person you married is.
Spend five minutes once a week thinking about another one of your spouses’ good points. Write it down. At the end of the year you will have 52 more reasons why you love her. Write them all down in a card and give it to her on your anniversary.
Your marriage will be golden.
July 19th, 2007
I wrote a few “scripts” for a few short one-minute video spots. The videos will be online someday, for now - enjoy the write ups.
Women, you have married an immature, pre-adolescent, festering ball of ego.
Every man thinks he is his wife’s “knight in shining armor.”
He needs to know that you appreciate all he does, and that you depend on him to solve your problems and make life bearable. If not, he thinks he has failed, and failing makes him feel very bad.
He needs to know that he is your big man and savior.
As hard as you work, and as difficult as your life’s challenges may be, you can’t raise these issues when he first walks in the door. When he comes home from a hard day, he is exhausted, beaten by his day, and he is not able to listen or be understanding. If you try to “show him how hard you work” and how difficult your life is, he will:
- Consider you a complaining, ungrateful, useless freeloader and
- Deep down he will feel like he has failed in his mission to provide and that you don’t respect him, what he does, and that he is not your “knight in shining armor.”
This is a death-sentence for his ego and he will react badly, angrily, and will not be able to listen or give you the time, space and attention that you deserve.
You need to be dressed nicely, greet him with a smile, ask him if he needs to sit down, give him a snack, pour him a drink, rub his shoulders, let him know how much you appreciate all he does for you, and give him a few minutes to relax.
Once he is comfortable, confident, and firmly in charge – then you can let him have it!
I stole some of this from a talk by Rabbi Akiva Tatz, you can find the original here.
July 19th, 2007
Since my last post I have been to Prague twice, Israel three times, and Budapest, Bratislava and Vienna once. The only common denominator between all these places is the serious lack of good coffee. I just don’t get it – why don’t people understand coffee? (To be fair, there was a Starbucks in Vienna, but it came so late in my travels and after I drank some really gross local stuff that it is almost not worth mentioning).
This is probably not the forum to discuss this, but there was something up with the toilets in Vienna and Budapest that really bugged me out – I think this particular toilet design is the reason why these people are so unhappy and started so many wars over the last 100 years (that or maybe it is because in German the verbs always come at the end of the sentence, I can think of a few English speakers who would probably get violent if English was the same way).
It is nice to be back in Boston, but I don’t understand why Madonna was playing a guitar to put and end to global warming – does she think she is Jimi now?
July 12th, 2007
I just got back from a trip to Mexico and yes – I was in Mexico for Cinco de Mayo.
I wasn’t thinking when I made my plans and it was an accident that my trip coincided with Cinco de Mayo. I was extremely excited when I realized what I did, but also very nervous. I was worried that I would get stuck in traffic, miss my flight home, or not be able to do anything because of the wild insanity and obvious reverie that would hit the streets.
It turns out that I am an ill-informed gringo fool.
As soon as I arrived I asked my hosts if I needed to worry about the upcoming holiday. “What holiday?” They said. “What holiday?” I thought to myself, “You sweet naïve people. Have you forgotten all about your day of national independence?”
I prodded, “Surely you are aware that Saturday is Cinco de Mayo.”
“Cinco de Mayo?” They discussed it amongst themselves. “Oh right, Cinco de Mayo, doesn’t that have something to do with the French?”
French?
“When were the French ever in Mexico?” I thought. “Don’t they realize they speak Spanish?”
Later that night I was giving a talk. I asked the audience about Cinco de Mayo. Their response was the same – first confusion and then talk about the French.
Everywhere I went and with everyone I met, I asked about Cinco de Mayo. It became a big joke, “Silly gringo, ha ha ha, Cinco de Mayo, ha ha ha.” Cinco de Mayo means nothing in Mexico.
I think I was lied to. I was an American in Mexico for Cinco de Mayo, I was excited and nervous, and it is all a big nothing.
It turns out that Mexicans don’t eat burritos* either – what a bummer.
*Burritos are a Tex-Mex treat – from Texas.
May 6th, 2007
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