the procrastinating girl

Holiday Time?

I just noticed two things.  One, I got 86 catalogs in yesterday's mail.  Two, this morning we had frost on the ground.  It doesn't take my favorite Belgian detective to deduce that the holidays are indeed coming.  Which is so fascinating considering my kids' Halloween costumes are still in a ball on my kitchen floor.  As usual, I am already behind.  What's worse, I don't even know how behind I am.  With Christmas, you are furnished with a set date.  There's no mystery.  No motion in the ocean.  The Jews like to keep it interesting.  When is the first night of Chanukah?  No idea.  I think it's like mid-ish-second-week-pre-teen-ish of December.  If that's clear.  So while the majority of the world is casually logging on Amazon.com and comfortably clicking on standard shipping, I still need to Google "Jewish holiday calendar 2009."  And see what my fate holds.  If it is one of those unfortunate years when the first candle overlaps with the night we carve the turkey, my kids may be unwrapping leftover KitKat bars as present number one.

New Leaf

My name is Amy Oringel and I am a vegetarian.  Yes, it's new.  Well, the notion has been dancing around my life for years, but I just decided to commit to it.  I spent most of my childhood eating basically nothing.  A big help considering I was the size of a sea scallop.  My parents' endless frustration resulted in choruses of 'Amy, EAT YOUR DINNER!!'  Instead, I took solace in many late-night bowls of Grape Nuts.  When I got older and was exposed to more choices (curry! lemongrass!), I saw glimmers of hope for my palate.  Along the way, meat of any kind grew unappealing.  Burgers fell off my radar first.  And poultry?   Please.  Giblet may be the most horrifying word in our language (not counting proper names).  So I have been in a kind of semi-veggie limbo for probably the last five years.  But I don't do limbo well (Nor do I limbo well. Another story).  So now I am much happier knowing where I stand.  Here on the green leaf-eater side with the diplodocus.  We have thick bodies and very long necks.  Yeah, that sounds like me. 

Genetics

I had the rare opportunity to dine last night with my original immediate family.  Seeing all of us gathered around the table, it would take a nanosecond (or an earthworm) to realize that we all share the same DNA.  There are a couple of give-aways.  The first is that we are wee people.  And there is a whole lot of dark and curly going on.  Less obvious is our shared passion for left-ist politics, the natural world and Mel Brooks.  So as I listened to my brother, a man from whom I actually differ in many ways (let's start with the cats), tell how he and his lovely girlfriend Libby made it to the van Gogh exhibit on the very last day it was showing at MOMA, I wondered whether we had something else in common.  He waited on line to enter the museum for 45 minutes with all the other slackers, I mean, reallybusyimportantpeople who made it just under the wire.  If you remember, my family went down a couple months ago and caught the van Gogh mid-stream.  Chalk one for TPG.  But if Ethan is similarly afflicted, maybe this procrastination thing is just in my blood.  Why fight it? 

Audrey

You'll have to forgive me for abandoning my usual snarky attitude for just one post.  Just one.  Last night, my friend Allison and I, along with the other ladies of 'the committee', hosted a wine tasting event to raise money for our dear friend Audrey's foundation.  Audrey passed away almost five years ago after a quick and brutal battle with cancer.  It still doesn't seem real.  The fundraiser was a way for Audrey's closest family and friends to remember her, raise some cash for education reform, and, ok, drink some wine too.   We started planning for this night almost a year ago.  But, ironically, we needed Audrey.  By far the most organized soul I have ever known, I know I felt an extra weight to be on my best, non-procrastinating behavior.  When last night came off hitch-less, and quite beautifully I really believe, I am certain Audrey would have been so pleased with what we had done in her name.  Although, I know she could have done it better.

A Fish Story

What do you get when you cross a procrastinator with a really expensive specialty food store?  No, this isn't the opening to some incredibly mediocre stand-up routine.  It was my life at about 11:45am.  I had just walked out of my doctor appointment and onto the streets of Manhattan's most insanely ritzy neighborhood.  Naturally, I wasn't looking for couture or original artwork.  I needed fish.  But this was Madison Avenue.  Fish will cost you.  Big.  And I didn't have the time to shop around.  Why?  Because this was my only window to buy all the food I needed to host our breaking of the fast at the end of Yom Kippur.  So I walked into E*A*T, arguably the most overpriced high-end food store anywhere, and ordered the most modest amount of whitefish I could without wasting counterperson's time.  But, apparently, they have a whitefish minimum.  As I was struggling with whether or not to green-light the purchase, a woman in Jackie O dark glasses, yes, worn indoors, and a dark navy suit ordered enough smoked salmon to feed our school district.  I finally nodded yes to the tiny plastic container of whitefish that cost the same as putting my family's butts in movie seats.  Plus popcorn.  And yes to the $20-plus chocolate babka.  And told myself, it's fine.  This is New York.  Nothing can compare to the food here.  Of course after fasting all day for Yom Kippur, cardboard would be delicious.  Sigh.

Happy Happy New New Year Year!

No, you're not seeing double.  I just got finished celebrating the New Year.  Yes, in October.  If you're Jewish as I am, you get the pleasure of ringing in this holiday twice.  Once with the drunken masses in Times Square, and then again like today for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.  We eat apples and honey and hear the blowing of the ram's horn or shofar (always a crowd pleaser).  But what about the seedy underbelly of turning the page yet again?  Do I need a second set of resolutions too?  Oy.  If so, as of 3:56pm, they would look something like this:

- Return fascinating books to all friends who mistakenly thought I could read.

- Send in paperwork for two $70 rebates for new, unnecessary Blackberry phones.

- Keep steady flow of food in fridge beyond an old apple, mustard and weirdly-shaped ball of foil.

- Do summer/fall closet clothes swap before it's time to wear bathing suits again.

- Dispose of empty dishwasher detergent bottles under sink.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I had a horrible realization this morning.  Sydney's birthday is just a few weeks away.  Of course this is fabulous news for her as she typically starts the countdown in February.  But I haven't even started to think about it and apparently I need to make the magic happen, well, now.  I try and do whatever I can to avoid the excessiveness that seems to come with grade school life circa 2008.  For my birthday parties, I know my mom worked out homegrown scavenger hunts in the backyard, then cooked up some fried chicken covered in corn flakes (always finding a way to get cereal onto the menu, naturally).  She made our cakes too.  I think my brother had one in the shape of, what was that? R2D2?  Now, even pony rides are so last year.  And favor bags cost more than the centerpieces at my bat mitzvah.  So when I asked Syd what she had in mind for this year's extravaganza, I was hoping she could read my mind.  And go low-key (we have, after all, been introduced). 

Syd: A pool party!
Me: Ok, but as you know, we don't have a pool. 

Her face said, so get Bedford Excavation over here and start digging that hole. 

Me: Arts and crafts? 
She gave me a huge grin, then said:  YES!  But only if we do it at home.

That's my girl.

Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut

I heart Grape Nuts.  Always have.  I guess not since birth, but it had to be soon thereafter.  There's just something about their simplicity, their crunch.  I just can't put it into words.  Sometimes I think I singlehandedly keep CW Post in business.  Instead of having a traditional bridal shower (opening presents in front of people?  shuddershudder), my friends rented out a paint-your-own-pottery place where everyone decorated an item and gave it to me at the end.  Perfecto.  My friend Jennifer painted a cereal bowl a cool color green and added Grape Nuts (the words, not the actual stuff) in purple letters at the bottom.  Nine years later, it's one of the few pieces of the collection that remain.  So last night, instead of filling out the paperwork necessary to secure Zoe's place in her extended day program for the fall, I found myself watching this and literally laughing out loud.  

Home Base

Just a few days ago, I first heard the term 'staycation,' the trend of people spending their days off at home since they can't afford a real getaway.  As often happens, now it's everywhere I turn.  Even the cover of the Sunday Styles section of the Times ran a piece on it last week.  So I've been thinking.  If I had a free week in my house, what could I do? 

• Watch borrowed DVD box set of first season of Arrested Development.

• Work on novel.

• Draw to-scale floor plan of house so I can plan what furniture to buy.  One day.

• Update address book so it would no longer read:  Grandma, Silver Spring, Maryland.

• Remove remaining 2-year-old clothes from almost 4-year-old Zoe's closet.

• Work on novel.

• Scrape encrusted art-project glitter off floor mats of car.

• Acknowledge existence of cookbooks.

• Work on novel.

So, tell me, what would you do???

Foodstuff

I just got back from my weekly biofeedback appointment.  I meet with my meditation doctor in a brick red renovated carriage house on an unpaved road in the heart of town.  In the back, there's a garden co-op project and I was a little early (duh), so I got to relax on a still-damp chaise and eavesdrop on some of their summer plans.  I have some pretty serious envy for the whole organic, vegetarian, slow food kind of lifestyle, but haven't made it happen in a life-changing kind of way.  And I am so close, just by nature.  I am a very picky eater, in fact, until about age 12, my diet consisted of grapefruit, bagels and Grape Nuts.  As I got older, I expanded my horizons (is that yellow curry?), but I am still far more the herbivore.  Veal?  Lamb?  Forget it.  Poultry?  No thanks, especially since it runs across my yard every morning (a whole different story).  I will like a steak every now and then, but never desire a burger.  I ate my first hot dog when I was 25.  Still freaked out.  Several weeks ago, I bought a cookbook that I thought would help give me the last push I needed to get to the veggie side.  It has unbelievably simple recipes, beautiful pictures and seemingly great-tasting dishes.  So far, it looks great on my counter.   But it may be time to crack its spine.  It's not even officially summer and I am already sick of the smell of grill.