It’s actually happening for the first time in 4 years—our own personal Brigadoon. We’re going on Vacation.
Oh, I had big plans; my BIG birthday’s coming up, etc. etc., and I’ve been dreaming of going to St. Petersburg, Russia, forever, and let’s just expletive go!
But what with twin babies and not so much time or money…
So Sruli suggested a quick, booby-prize jaunt to Paris—oolala—I’ve never been and even got so far as to get Instant French CD’s and download them to my computer and got the Frommers—but—not this year.
So—we are going to Atlantic City, 53 bucks a night at Harrahs and the big kids are watching the little kids.
And I’m actually pretty excited.
Four days, right punkt smack in the middle of crazy camp prep, 2 graduations, 2 packing-out-of-the-dorms, a zillion gigs and the Rabbinate. Sruli promised me we won’t talk about work.
So I am hoping to do some reflection, pre-half century mark.
Like, what the hell? How did I get here? And—why am I still not thin? And—when did they start calling them Medical Centers instead of Hospitals, flip flops instead of thongs, and covers instead of playing a song that really belongs to another, more successful band?
And why DID I really give up my advertising job all those years ago instead of trying to do music on the weekends, knowing full well I’d never hit the stratosphere of performance since I started so goddam late and I seem to be working on the weekends mostly anyway? I would have been able to send my kids to any college they wanted AND had an apartment in the city (although living in a shul is fun and you should try it sometime) and I would be wearing real clothes like the kind that actually might have to be dry-cleaned, instead of yoga pants and long n lean tanks from Target. Every day.
And why am I still not thin?
And why do I have to pee ever goddam 5 minutes?
And why do I self-sabotage (this still has to do with the why am I not thin question) and ten years ago I managed to make myself look great for my last big birthday and our big trip to play at the Cracow Festival and that Ann Taylor dress is still hanging in my closet, but this year I will, for sure, be the fattest parent at Aaron’s Heschel graduation dinner.
And I will also reflect why we go to bed so late, and why I can’t think straight any more. You know, remember things. And did I mention, why am I not thin?
I want to reflect on my next chapter, pending the Good Lord’s benevolence.
What I can do better. For my family, my shul, my community and maybe even the world.
How I can help Zachary more—as he battles the odds and gets up on a big stage tomorrow night—his first concert produced by a producer.
How I can help Ilana more—as she negotiates her new, free life, and help her make choices that even her Dad can agree with.
How I can help Aaron who is still figuring out how unbelievably fabulous he is—and how much I freakin’ love him and would help him if he would freakin’ let me. Like never sending emails to important grownups without me vetting them.
And—re the Twins: are we EVER going to really send them to school?
And Sruli, well—I can’t really change anything about him, can I? He’s even older than I am.
I want to be more patient. I want never to grimace. Or roll my eyes. I want to stop sweating so much (see thin question above) but also not to anticipate fights and problems. Which I really do. It’s a double-bad whammy—you get the cortisol coming and going. Not a good situation for a flat belly according to the pop-up screen on my Yahoo.
So I will use the few days to calm down. Sleep. Read. Beach.
And count my manifold blessings.
And revel (ha! Atlantic City pun!) that at this crazy middle-age I can still go one or two rounds with my partner at the bar, and again, later, upstairs.