Modesty

My olive-skinned wife and my pale-skinned daughter spent a little time today soaking in some rays. Then Rebecca threw shorts over her swimsuit and Rachel threw a skirt over hers and we went out for some Chinese food for lunch.

After lunch, Rachel decided she just had to accompany me to the bathroom instead of her mother. So I helped her unhook her top, no mean trick with all the hair she has back there.

She did what she had to do and then allowed me to hook her back up. She complained it was too tight after I did. I suggested we go out to mom and let her do the adjustments, since girls' swimsuits are more mommy's department than daddy's.

Rebecca explained that the swimsuit was a size too small and advised we not worry about the hook. She said, "She's just a little girl anyway." I shrugged. Like I said, not my department.

The three of us then drove to Eurasian Motors, to pick up Rebecca's car. It was in for an oil change, tire rotation and brake work. The two men who run the place are brothers, David and John.

Rachel ran ahead of us and as we approached the door, I noticed she had the hook from her swimsuit clenched in her teeth.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

And as we opened the door to walk in, Rachel replied, "I don't want him to see my nipples!"

David didn't hear her, but I got a good chuckle out of it.

Passover Confession

The Jewish Holiday of Passover is winding down. During Passover, I try to obey Jewish dietary laws, which means no flour, no yeast, no products that contain ingredients that have to be given time to rise.

However, matzah only can go so far. You have to out something on it that makes it more palatable. For me, that is often cheese.

So the other day, I spread a slice of cheese on a whole wheat matzah, took a bite and was shocked how flavorless it was. I took another bite and it wasn't much better.

It was then I realized, the thin piece of paper placed between individual slices of cheese in the package was still attached to the cheese. What have I become, a billygoat?

In The News.....

Producing the news can be a high-stress job and one way to defuse the tension is a sense of humor. All sorts of things can trigger laughter.

For instance, there was this summary from NBC's 2 a.m.-6 a.m. rundown the other day:


NA20T, WA SICK SWIM TEAM, :29, KING, 0330, VO/NAT NA,PW
Officials are investigating why three members of the Seattle Synchronized Swim Team simultaneously fainted

I mean, really, what else would you expect? I laughed long and hard at that headline.



The next day I ran some amazing video. It showed an eight-foot alligator that showed up in a woman's kitchen near Tampa, Florida. A trapper had just caught it. The gator wasn't in the best of moods- snarling, hissing and snapping.

The homeowner theorized the alligator saw her cat and was interesting in making Fluffy an entree. The cat got away, went outside and for some reason, was reluctant to go back inside the house. Gee, I can't imagine why!

Ever a skeptic, I have come up with another reason why the alligator was in the kitchen. Perhaps it was looking for a "croc" pot.

Out of the Mouths, Chapter LXVII

Rachel has shown an interest in the jump rope lately. I convinced her that the spare bedroom/computer room might not be the best venue and that going outside might be a better option.

She started to don her sparkling red "Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz shoes, but I suggested her tennis shoes might be more suitable. We headed outside.

She tried to jump rope, but is not quite adept yet to lift both feet off the ground so the rope can go under them. Easily frustrated, she wanted to give up quickly. I urged her to keep at it.

She tried once or twice more, unuccessfully. I tried to encourage her.

"No. I can't do it right and that is an issue!" she replied.

"That is an issue?" I thought as I chuckled inwardly.

She must have heard that phrase somewhere! Later, I found out it where she heard it.....from mom!

Rachel With Shabbat Candles

Rachel: A Candid Shot For Once

The Temple had a workshop yesterday to teach Pre-K kids about Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath. The father of one of Rachel's friends snapped this photo of our little angel.

In other great news, Rachel has been accepted at the Reform Jewish Day School starting in the fall! We're all psyched!

If it doesn't fit, throw a fit!

I got out of work the same time the girls got out of school the other day. We decided to rendezvous for lunch.

Rachel ate enough of her food that she was granted a quarter to hit up the M&M machine, despite asking "Can I have a quarter?" every 2.3 seconds after we said it would be okay. Chocolate waits for no one.

Anyway, she returned to the table and polished off the chocolate in short order, although she acted with great largess and gave me one of them. Now she would be plagued by the dreaded duo, boredom and chocolate-fueled hyperactivity.

We were seated on wooden benches at the front of the restaurant. The benches where people sat while waiting for tables were right next to us. There was a space big enough to pass between the bench and the wall leading to our table.

My wife was still eating. Rachel was in play mode. In her mind, someone had turned Greg Wiggle into a baby and she pulled a high chair toward our table. She told us Greg was in it. She tried to squeeze the high chair between the reception bench and the wall. It would not fit. She kept pressing the issue. We told her it would not fit. She kept at it. I told her to stop. She stomped her foot and let out a loud, frustrated, defiant cry.

I picked up the high chair(and presumably, Greg) and returned it to the corner. I scooped up Rachel and carried her outside. She buried her head in my shoulder. i began to explain how she was about to get in big trouble if she didn't "cool it." As I looked up, I saw an Atlanta Police car pull into a parking space. I waited for the officers to come out and start walking toward the restaurant. Still, facing me, Rachel asked what we waiting for. I gestured toward the officers who were now coming toward us.


I told Rachel, "See those officers? They came here because you were raising such a commotion. I then took her back into the restaurant, holding open the door for the officers.

To make matters even better, they seated the officers in the next booth over from us. One officer faced where Rachel and I were seated.

Yes, I felt guilty about my little lie. I'm also surprised it took me five years to pull a stunt like that.

I blame heredity.

I still remember one day in Dallas, Texas when I was growing up. It was a Sunday morning. My sister and I were making a lot of noise. The phone rang. After hanging up, dad told us it was the neighbors complaining bout how loud Patty and I were and asking that we "keep it down."

We totally bought it.

I'm just "paying it forward."

Touching Moment

My cousin Alvin recently died. He was in his 80's. We went to Florida in January, in part so he could meet Rachel.

The other day, the three of us are saying our traditional prayer before our meal, in which we thank G-d for our lives, sustaining us and allowing us to reach this season.

Right after we say, "Amen', Rachel says, "G-d, please let Alvin come back to visit."

Little girl is growing up!

Late to bed, late to rise.....

Last Sunday, I was sitting on our bed, ear to the cell phone, participating in this year's fantasy baseball draft. I've been in this league for more than a decade. Everyone else is in Texas, but they have graciously allowed me to stay in the league even though I live several states away.

All of a sudden, I hear a commotion on the other side of the house. I interrupt the bidding on whatever player we were debating with, "Excuse me a second, I have a five-year-old situation to deal with."

Rachel doesn't want to go to bed. Rachel needs to go to bed. Maybe it's partially due to a recent bout with strep throat, but her teacher has told us she has been extra cranky lately. And like all five-year-olds, she can be plenty cranky without strep.

"Rachel! You need to go to bed!" I tell her.

"But I'm not tired!" she counters.

"It doesn't matter!" I reply. "If you don't get to bed now, you're going to be tired in the morning and your teacher is going to tell us you were tired all day because you went to bed too late the night before!"

"But I'm not tired!" she repeats.

"Look honey, here is what you do," I tell her as I herd her back to bed. "Lie here, close your eyes and count to 50. You'll probably be asleep by then!"

"But I can count higher than that!" she said, exasperated.

Cute, intelligent and sassy. A real triple threat, this one.