1/02/2008

Happy New Year or How I Almost Did My Father In

Happy New Year from Moose, Bunny and Kitty

It was an interesting visit with Dad over Christmas, 99% of the excitement happening prior to his arrival and on the day he was leaving. In between, it was very slow. Dad’s slowed down a lot, even in the last year, although he just had a big surgery last year and I think he’s still rebounding. But more about that another time.

The Holiday started off when I lost my dad. Yep. Lost him. For nearly 3 hours, somewhere between JFK and the apartment. Try calling your brother to tell him you’ve lost your dad. Of course, I don’t think Al really believed me for a while.

So here’s the deal. It was one of those ‘if it can go wrong…it willkinda days. At 11:08am a cold hit me. You know how that is. One minute you’re going along all normal-like, and then WHAM! You feel the fever, your nose takes off like it thought its job was to alleviate the drought in Atlanta, and you keep looking for the steamroller that just ran you over on your way to the printer. Yuck. So I decided I’d catch the 5:15pm train instead of the 5:58pm and get home.

Now Alberta had been recruited to house sit and wait for dad’s arrival. His flight from Heathrow came in at 4:48. I figured an hour for customs, baggage claim and to find a taxi. Then a 45 min to 1 hour drive from the airport to Park Slope – making his arrival time at the apartment around 6:45pm. So Ali was on lookout. Good thing she was there. My 5:15pm never left Philly until 5:45pm, so I didn’t get to Penn Station until 7:20pm.

At 6:20pm I call Ali to see how she was. As we talked, the cab driver called asking for directions to Park Slope. Since part of their licensing is that they are supposed to know this stuff I was annoyed, but glad I was on the phone (Ali doesn’t drive). So she relayed directions from me to him and we figured dad was all set. Ha!

I get to Manhattan at 7:20pm, then police action on the “F” train means I don’t get to Brooklyn until 8:10pm. I get above ground and call Lynne (who is home now) to see if dad is settled and if they want to go out to eat. Lynne informs me that he’s not there. It is almost 2 hours since I talked to the cabbie and dad was already in route at that time. I tell Lynne I’m going to wait outside of the house for dad to arrive. Istart hypothesizing a myriad of reasons why dad’s not yet there, and Lynne successfully lies to me and agrees that “yes, the traffic is really bad tonight – it was awful in the city,” and “yes it rained earlier and that probably tied up things on the Belt Parkway,” and “I’m sure that he’s just not rushing and will turn up any minute.” It’s good to have someone you love lie to you when you’re under duress.

I call my brother, who is an excellent problem solver: do I have the cab number (nope, never thought to ask), can I *69 and get the cabbie’s cell phone number (nope, I called afterwards so it’s lost), do the NYC police require you to wait 24 or 36 hours before you can file a missing person’s report? Do any of you watch that show “Missing”? 24 hours never seems long on that show. As we approached 8:40pm, I started to think I could file a kidnapping report and that might get a faster response. You can do far too much damage to an 82 year old Brit in 24 hours!

As I ruminated, worried and paced outside the apartment, I noticed a white car that kept stopping at the corner across from our block. It circled three times, like it was looking for something. That’s when the very dim light bulb in my very sniffley head slowly went on. I had forgotten to remind dad to ONLY TAKE A YELLOW CAB! There are a ton of guys who are local limo drivers (some of whom are unlicensed) that are always looking for a fare at the airports!

I jumped off the stoop and started to walk to the corner when who do I see but dad! It’s 8:50pm and he’s exhausted, out of breath and looks awful! It turns out he went to a “policeman” (which could have been anyone in uniform, ‘cause an NYC cop knows better than to encourage a gypsy cab!) and asked where he got a cab. The ‘policeman’ took him outside and hailed a car. When dad asked how much, he told dad that dad’d work that out with the driver on their way (who it turns out is from Long Island; hence no idea as to where Park Slope was!). The driver ends up driving dad to LaGuardia, because “I know my way to Brooklyn from LaGuardia”. Oy-Vay! This is in addition to getting lost on the way to LaGuardia, getting stuck in traffic, etc., etc.

When they finally arrive, the driver can’t find our house #. So he kept circling. This is after he told dad that he’d owe about $200, since he’d been driving dad around for almost 3 hours! Well, the old man (dad) may be tired, but when it comes to money, no one is going to get over on him! He hands the guy the $60 I told him it should cost (if he’d taken a YELLOW CAB). So the guy wants to come upstairs with dad and talk to me about the money. Dad lies and says I’m not home (which I wasn’t). He asks about the woman he talked to (Ali) and dad explains that she is a neighbor who is to let him in, but not a relation. So the guy writes me a note, asking me to find the spirit of Christmas and send him more money. I’m still debating whether I want to download the driving directions from MapQuest and mail them to him. And to think that our cabbies and limos are still fighting the city in court over their refusal to install GPS systems!

So…day one…lose your 82 year old dad who just got off a 7 hour flight (not including the 2 hour train ride to the airport).

On the last day (today)…dad slips in the bathtub and bruises his arm. He insists he didnt hit his head. Lynne, who is still home (thank God for therapist hours!) checks for broken bones. Aye! I convince dad to let me call a car service for him so he has someone to meet him at Heathrow and he can skip the trains and train transfers. Ali takes the afternoon shift (thank God for friends who have p/t jobs) and makes sure he gets into the car service I hired and paid for in advance!

He arrives at 7:50am tomorrow – about 3:00am our time. Flight Tracker says his place is off and over Nova Scotia. God willing all goes well. It should – he’s out of my range now!

12/20/2007

The Final Sketch

Has it really been a month since I've written? Shame on me! Where are my priorities? I may have to set-up a Project Plan to make sure I stay with this :)

Tonight was the final night for the sketch class. I'm really gonna miss it. Of course, in the final hour, while Charlie was walking us through next steps (Sketch 201, getting a sketch selected to perform regularly at United Citizen's Brigade Theatre, managers/agents, pitching sketches, pitching pilots, trying to get on a writing team...), all those great ideas for sketches kept flooding my mind! The minute the pressure was off - wham!

So the key will be to capture these ideas now, while they're fresh. I think most of us in class will stay connected, and there's some interest in pitching a sketch to UCB and see if we can get a show scheduled. I tell ya, there are some funny folks in our class!

Sketch 201 classes are full, so I'll contemplate my next steps over the Holidays. In the meantime, keep an eye out for my teacher, Charlie Sanders, on Conan - once the writers strike ends!

11/21/2007

This is a Favorite Day

The day before Thanksgiving is one of my most favoritist days of the year.  More than Thanksgiving itself, which is always full of disappointment that I'm not at the parade in person (I went one year, many years ago) :0(

But the day before...it's about tradition.  I am very into tradition.  That's why I love the monarchy...and the Catholic Church...and Easter service...and Nat King Cole...and great love stories...ok....maybe I'm a sentimentalist, too!  Anyway - on the day before Turkey Day, I have this ritual that I've held on to for the last 18 years, since Alberta and I first moved to Park Slope Brooklyn.

The thing to know about Park Slope is that it is very much a neighborhood. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Park_Slope,_Brooklyn  Not at all big cityish.  (Beth M., am I getting on your nerves with my abuse of the language?) Like right now - I can hear someone raking leaves...and maybe chopping down a tree...?  The main shopping area (a block from our apartment) is Seventh Avenue, which runs 30 blocks or so (commercial).  Dad calls it the "village".  He likes to say "I popped down to the village for a coffee," which means he walked down to the diner a block a way and had a cup of coffee.  Below is a picture of my most favorite bagel store - and, hey!  Seattle may have the fish market, but you ain't seen nothing 'til you see how these guys handle 25 people ordering all at once - and never mess up the order!  Note:  the space for customers to stand is 10' x 8' and the space the bagel guys have is about 4' x 12'.  And the customer service - best in the world! 

But back to my story....The day before the big Turkey Day I love to run my errands to get ready.  First, I go to the Flower Store (which is just a bodega that sells flowers) and pick out something nice for the table (I do my own arrangements).  Then I go to the Wine Store (which is really a wine & liquor store).  Then I go to the Veggie Store (which is a fruit, vegetable and lots of great organic and ethnicfoods). 

That's it.  But do it without a car...on a day that's relatively quiet (kids are in school half a day)...stroll the ten blocks down the Avenue to the wine store...roam the veggie store and decide between snow peas and brussel sprouts (I did both, plus asparagus for Lynne and Alberta).  The flowers sticking out of my backpack, wine in one hand, veggies in the other.  Opps!  Look!  Sweet Melissa's has pies!  YIPEEEE!

Stroll into Sweet Melissa's (a true french patisserie including Afternoon Tea! ( http://www.sweetmelissapatisserie.com/ ) and have a latte and piece of CARAMEL BREAD PUDDING with fresh RASPBERRY SAUCE - let me die now!  Becca - I was thinking of you with every bite!  WAIT!  Don't leave!  What about that CHOCOLATE BOURBON PECAN PIE????!  I don't even like pecan pie - but chocolate pecan?  So I make Alberta buy a piece to taste (and to complement her hot apple cider) and YUM!  Sold!

Then it's home, strolling down the side streets and over to 8th Avenue.  Noon service of church is letting out, the Catholic School girls from the High School are hanging out, the building superintendent has finally put the trash cans away.

That, to me, my dear friends, is the best part of Thanksgiving.  That hour or so enjoying my neighborhood, loving my routine, celebrating the fact that I am blessed enough in my life to have both the opportunity and the ability to enjoy such a simple thing.

And this year, I am particularly thankful that I have such good people in my life that, above all else, make me laugh, make me think, make me want to better at what I do...and have the patience to tolerate me as I work towards all of that!

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.  It's good to be back among you!