From the article: Read More . . .
I guess that whenever one writes or reads a blog on a web site, they expect it to be funny or happy. Sometimes, it’s hard to be happy when a good friend dies unexpectedly and was so young. My friend, Andy, was my lighting guru for my catering business and led a rather stressful life. Given that we were close in age, I guess he found it easy to talk to me about his troubles. Sometimes, it’s really hard to pull yourself out of the hole that you made, especially when your heart is as big as Andy’s. He had a soft spot in his heart and had a hard time knowing when to step back or say the word “no”. Read More . . .
When my children were young and I was catering small parties from my home, it seemed that our back yard was the gathering place for all of the neighborhood children. I’m not certain if it was because of the swing set that we set up for our kids or my chocolate chip cookies…. The fact was, we had an open yard policy and everyone was welcome to come and play. There were two little boys who were very rambunctious, to say the least. Everyone knew that if there was mischief to be found, it would be found with Eddie and Gerry. They got into everything ~ my flowers, my trees and our little shed housing our garden tools ~ nothing escaped them. Read More . . .
I was so busy … I couldn’t even stop to eat lunch and most importantly, use the restroom. It was just one of those days. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I was going to get finished with my work before midnight. I closed my office door only to hear it open as my assistant walked in. She informed me that three people came in and asked to meet with me. I asked her if they had an appointment that I had forgotten. “No”, she replied, “they just waltzed in and asked to meet with you as they had just been to the Pennsylvanian and want to discuss your services for their wedding. I peeked through my office door and saw them sitting at a table in our café and instantly formed an opinion…. These people will never use us for their wedding – I am absolutely certain! I told my assistant this and she informed me that they were waiting for me and I that I should meet with them. Frankly, I was furious! I took a deep breath, gathered my tablet and pen and out I went. Read More . . .
Rebecca. I loved this woman. She was so into her son’s Bar Mitzvah and was so intense about every detail. She hired a band that regrettably, didn’t know how to play Hava Nagila. It was very important that everyone in attendance would join in on the dance floor to honor the little boy by dancing around him, as he was hoisted on a chair, high above the guests. So, the band secured a tape and played it so that the festivities would begin. It was great! The little boy hung onto the sides of the chair as his male relatives kept bouncing him up and down and everyone joined on the dance floor and danced around him. The look of terror in his eyes had us all on edge and we were certain that he would be bounced out of his chair and onto the floor. One could only imagine our relief when the tape finally ended and this poor soul was permitted to step off of the chair and onto to safe territory. It was then that Rebecca, his mother, ran up to the stage and yelled to the band leader, “That was great! Now, can you play it again… but this time, play it faster!” Read More . . .
I was nineteen and married for less than a year when my husband took me to New York for a Clergy Laity Conference. The “wives” were sent off to a luncheon being held in the penthouse apartment of the Hotel Pierre, sponsored by one of New York’s most prominent Greek socialites. I should have realized that my day was off to a roaring start when I awoke with an eye infection. Being just a little vane, I forced my contact lens into my tearing eye and started to dress for the luncheon. That’s when I noticed the oil spot on my red suit that I made on my old Singer sewing machine. I had about one hour to get that spot out and to find a new pair of panty hose to replace the pair that I brought with me that now had a huge run going straight up my leg. Read More . . .