You Know You're in L.A. When.... (part 2)

A ticket to Avatar at the Cinerama Dome is:

$18!!!

I don't want to sound like a grandmother, but was it that long ago that movies were $5?

Let It Snow

My Sunday column on westport.patch:

"Kids almost universally love it. Adults almost universally do not. I understand that. There are big hassles that go along with a serious snowfall. There's the shoveling, the ice scraping, the cars buried in drifts on the side of the road, the commuting to work on slippery, slushy roads. Still, I have to side with the kids on this one.

Last weekend's storm could not have been better – unless instead of getting 9 inches we'd gotten the foot and a half that were forecast. And right before the holidays, it couldn't have been better timed. Here are all the reasons I believe the white stuff is worth the trouble."

read the rest at:

http://westport.patch.com/articles/let-it-snow-2

You Know You're in L.A. When....

It's 65 degrees outside and everyone's walking around in sweaters and jackets. And not only is it 65 degrees outside, but certain people (relatives who shall remain nameless) heat their houses to EIGHTY inside! I wish I could say I'm joking about that, but I'm overheated and dehydrated an unfortunately, not joking at all.

Christmas Chaos

There's been so much to write about, but so little time. Santa needs way, way more helpers. The big day came around way too quickly. We never did that gingerbread house, didn't get around to hanging those outside lights and I'm still mailing out a few Christmas cards. Sorry about that, everybody.

I'm happy to report I got a Kindle for Christmas! Yippee. I couldn't be happier. But my favorite gift of the day was a card from the kiddies that read:

Dear Mom and Dad
Marry Christmas. We are very greatful to be your children.
love, QB and Mopsy. 

How cute is that?

We flew on Christmas day to Los Angeles. (I don't recommend travel on the 25th. It's not a lot of fun. Jarv almost missed his flight. One bag got lost. Had trouble getting a car at the rental place. Two kids who were still awake at 2 am EST had meltdowns.)

So now we're here at the in-laws. Everyone's cranky and tired, and, well, we're at the in-laws, so I anticipate I'll have many amusing, irritating anecdotes over the next week.  Keep you posted.

It's a Very Cyber Christmas

My Sunday column for Westport Patch:


"It used to be that the big dig on Christmas was that it had gotten too commercial. It had become all about shopping instead of religious and family-centric. Now, it's gotten one step worse: even theshopping has become utterly impersonal.


My sisters and I all have Amazon wish lists for our families, so we don't even need to talk to each other for ideas. It's click and go. I pick something off a list, type in a gift card, check the box for wrapping paper, and buy it with one-click. The whole process takes 30 seconds and I never even have to change out of my pajamas. Not only that, but 36 hours later, the box is on the recipient's doorstep, shipped free. It literally couldn't get any easier. And I think that's the problem."

read the rest at:

http://westport.patch.com/articles/its-a-very-cyber-christmas

To the Point

I told Mopsy I had to write an article today for Westport Patch about last night's snow storm. She gave me an unsolicited pointer on how to frame the piece:

"Here's what you should write, Mom. It wasn't snowing until it was. The End."

She has a point.

One Potato, Two Potato

My column this week on westport.patch.com:

One Potato, Two Potato

Making our own fun in the country is a reminder to keep the holidays simple.

"Sometimes simple is best.

We went off to see friends in the country recently. It was really rural, as in their house sits on something like eight acres. Aside from Legos, our five collected children found lots of things to do: chase after their dog, play paint ball in the woods, and gather beautiful Araucana eggs from the chicken coop each morning and afternoon.

What most amused me, though, was playing with a bizarre contraption involving large PVC piping attached to an air compressor at one end. Our host, Jeff, announced his work of art: the Potato Cannon.

Say what?"

read the rest at:

http://westport.patch.com/articles/one-potato-two-potato

Peace, Love, Joy, Irritation

Here's this week's Sunday column on Westport Patch. When I told Jarv what the subject was, he said, "You really should be careful about having opinions about everything and being so judgmental all the time." But luckily, I'm writing an Opinion column for Patch. So, really, it would be quite a boring read if I wasn't so opinionated. Finally, my general state of grumpiness is good for something.

"I don't know about you, but until last weekend ended, I had been focused on Thanksgiving: getting to our friends' house for the weekend, making pies, eating pies. Good stuff like that. I'm just now starting to think about Christmas. 

So I was taken aback when I opened our mail the Friday after Thanksgiving and found, yes, a Christmas card waiting for us. It was sitting smack on top of the pile of catalogs and bills, all proud of itself with its cheery green envelope and special holiday stamp. I appreciate that this relative (on my husband's side, naturally) wanted to send us holiday greetings. But did she really have to do it on November 27?"

Read the rest at:
http://westport.patch.com/articles/peace-love-joy-irritation

Wacky Weather

It was 65 degrees today on December 3rd. I'm so relieved the Republicans decided global warming is all a bunch of hooey.

My Sunday Column

Today's column on Westport Patch.com, should you care to read it....

"The Gratitude Attitude

I always hear I should write a gratitude list and read it every morning to remind myself of my blessings instead of thinking about all the things that irritate me. (Well, at least that’s what Oprah says to do. I'm betting she has a really long list.) And Thanksgiving seems like an appropriate time to get on that little task. I thought about writing out my own personal list and sharing it, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be all that interesting. Let's see...

I’m grateful that:

1. My son only leaves his wet towel on the floor 75 percent of the time now….

2. I finally figured out the source of that gross smell in the back of the car.

3. The new season of 24 is starting soon.”

Read the rest at:

http://westport.patch.com/articles/the-gratitude-attitude

Cinnamon Apple Crumble Pie

I broke the cardinal rule and tried out a new recipe when we were at friends' for Thanksgiving. Glad I did. It was the best. I highly recommend. I'm making it again tonight. Didn't get enough.



Cinnamon Apple Crumble Pie
(Bon Appetit, 2003)

Crust

• 1 1/3 cups all purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1/4 cup frozen solid vegetable shortening, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 3 tablespoons (or more) ice water
• 1/2 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Filling

• 3 1/4 pounds Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced 1/4 inch thick 
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Topping

• 1 cup all purpose flour
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 6 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

• Vanilla ice cream

preparatioFor crust:

For the Crust:

Mix flour, salt, and sugar in large bowl. Add butter and shortening; rub in with fingertips until coarse meal forms. Mix 3 tablespoons ice water and vinegar in small bowl to blend. Drizzle over flour mixture; stir with fork until moist clumps form, adding more water by teaspoonfuls if dough is dry. Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic; refrigerate 30 minutes.

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim overhang to 1/2 inch; turn edge under and crimp decoratively. Refrigerate while preparing filling and topping.

For filling:
Mix all ingredients in large bowl to coat apples.

For topping:
Blend first 5 ingredients in processor. Add chilled butter cubes; using on/off turns, cut in until mixture resembles wet sand.

Toss filling to redistribute juices; transfer to crust, mounding in center. Pack topping over and around apples. Bake pie on baking sheet until topping is golden, about 40 minutes (cover top with foil if browning too quickly). Reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Bake until apples in center are tender when pierced and filling is bubbling thickly at edges, about 45 minutes longer. Cool until warm, about 1 hour. Serve with vanilla ice cream.

Oh, Sweet Irony

Success! Miracle of miracles, I actually tracked down an H1N1 shot for QB on Tuesday at the Weston Health district. Not only that, but we had an appointment. Went in at 3:30. Left at 3:32. To quote a beloved  and not-at-all-arrogant ex-president, "mission accomplished."

And of course, the very next day, Mopsy, who has had the seasonal flu vaccine, came down with a fever of 102. Looks like I celebrated just a bit too soon.

Hiking For Dummies

My Sunday column on Westport Patch, "Hiking for Dummies" is about getting a bit lost during a recent hike.

"I’d always scoffed at the story of Aron Ralston who went on a long rock climbing trip, got his arm trapped underneath a boulder and ended up amputating it. How dumb do you have to be to go off in the wilderness without letting anyone know where you were going? And sure, Westport wasn’t exactly the desolate canyons of Utah, but here I’d done the same thing and we were lost without any back-up.

It’s probably because Gail gets lost driving to the grocery store that she didn’t panic as we stood there at the top of that gorge, wondering what the hell we were going to do."

http://westport.patch.com/articles/hiking-for-dummies

Mommy Brain

We were making Christmas wish lists the other day. QB had printed out many, many pages of Lego items, naturally. I asked him about a few things that looked like battery components, of all things. Why would he want that instead of a cool Star Wars set? This is what he said to me:

"Well, not to make things too complicated, Mom, but this one is a remote (blah blah blah) and this one is the receiver (blah blah blah)..."

That's right, my eight-year-old had to dumb it down for me. And in a way, he was right. I still didn't really get it. How do these things work with regular Legos? Do you have to have special electronic sets to go with them?

It's a sad, sad day.

Leaf Me Alone

Here's my latest Sunday column published on Westport Patch. My subject: the dreaded annual task of raking up all those pesky leaves. I've decided I've had enough of it.

"My husband stocked up on those enormous paper bags. I hid the Wii remotes, booted the kids out of the house, and handed them each a rake. I’m not sure what the big child labor fuss is all about. I’m an enthusiastic fan of it. Sure, the young-ins belly ache and moan, but I let them have a break and a sip of water every few hours or so. (Last year on clean up day, my son proclaimed it “the worst day of his life.” So, I think it’s fair to say he’s had a pretty great eight years on the planet.)"

Read the rest at:

http://westport.patch.com/articles/leaf-me-alone

(Sorry to redirect. I'm not allowed to reprint the entire article. Something about copyright laws...)

That's all for tonight. Happy Sunday.

Shameless Plug

I'm subjecting even more unsuspecting readers now to my wide-ranging opinions. Westport's newest news website, Westport Patch, will be running a weekly column of mine every Sunday. Here's the first installment, on a subject dear to my heart, flu vaccines.

(All of you who disagree with me on this controversial subject -- ahem, Mr. Webster -- can write a letter to the website editor.)

http://westport.patch.com/articles/flu-shot-frenzy

Hope you'll check it out.

So Long, Santa

QB made this little announcement yesterday as the kids were pouring over toy catalogs, working on their holiday wish lists:

"I don't really believe in Santa Clause anymore, but I like him!"

My heart fell. It's all over? Already? So it was seven years of Santa, two or three of which, as a baby, he obviously didn't grasp. That means, basically, the childhood Christmas fantasy really only existed for about four years. It's a pity.

Even worse, he made this little announcement in front of trusting little Mopsy. Great. Thanks a lot, kid. Without addressing the is-there-really-a-Santa question directly, I asked him to keep his skeptical analyses to himself next time.

He better, or Santa might be bringing him lumps of coal instead of his favorite Lego Star Wars Clone Wars Sky Trooper Blasterific. Or whatever it is. Anyone know where you can pick up a lump of coal?

Swine Hits the Street

Oh no! One of QB's playmates has swine flu, apparently. It was only a matter of time. Second kid on the street. The first was a toddler who wasn't terribly sick and got over it after a few days, thankfully.

Would it be going overboard if I quarantine the kids inside the house?

I have a beat on a swine flu clinic next week. Will see if it pans out.

Westport in a Nutshell

Halloween is a fantastic night in Westport. I have two small children who look forward to October 31st – and the candy – almost as much as they anticipate Christmas.

This was our first year trick-or-treating at Compo beach. In past years, we’d hit Gault, which is always in the grip of a joyous Halloween frenzy come the last night in October. But Compo did not disappoint. I was surprised to discover that there was even more infectious energy there. Most of the houses were decorated to the hilt. One had a six-foot tall spider complete with an enormous web suspended over their front lawn and another featured a glowing mummy guarding their house. Lights and webs and ghouls and graveyards were everywhere.

We stopped at one home where the owner used a two-and-a-half foot tall bucket – big enough to carry several basketballs – to hold all the candy he gave out that night. And by 7 pm, it was almost empty. That’s a lot of treats. My favorite stop was the house with the sign directing the kids to the candies at the front door and the adults to the table where they were passing out wine to the adults. Whoever you were – brilliant.

It dawned on me that this night, right here -- symbolized the very best of Westport. It’s occasions like this that I’m warmed by the sense of community here. The residents were generous and friendly and welcoming. It’s truly heartening that people are willing to go to so much effort (and expense) to bring a little moment of happiness to someone else’s children. And I love that we can walk around one stunningly beautiful neighborhood and run into so many friends from around town. It was a mini-reunion and a beach block party all rolled into one -- with wine, to boot. What more could we ask for?

But, to be honest, it also encapsulated what I like least about Westport. What shocked me was that even though Soundview and all the little streets behind it were teeming with children -- as everyone knew it would be – many, many people still felt the need to drive through the crowds. Many of them were going way too fast with a snarl on their face, as if exasperated by the two-year-old bumblebees and princesses. This shouldn’t surprise me. We live on a private street with many “Do Not Enter” signs, three sets of gates and several speed bumps. But people ignore all that and cut through anyway, usually speeding in front of our children playing on bikes and scooters and skates. People will do whatever they want.

It was the same last night. I realize that many of the cars could’ve belonged to neighborhood residents coming home or going out for the night. But everyone knows that Compo on Halloween is like downtown Disneyland. If they wanted to, residents could have avoided the area, moved their cars out before trick-or-treating started, and parked at one of the beach lots instead. Halloween happens only for a short time on a single night of the year. It is that much trouble to forgo our SUVs for two hours so that the kids might stay safe? (I realized I’m biased. I’m a mother and therefore pre-programmed to put children ahead of almost all else. Plus, my son was nearly run over on a closed street one Halloween.)

Maybe the cars that drove through carried elderly people who couldn’t walk. Maybe people got lost on the way to a party. (It’s possible, but I doubt it.) Maybe the drivers were neighborhood residents who saw us as intruders who were inconveniencing them.

For now, I’ll enjoy all that was good about Halloween. Thank you to all of you at Compo for hosting a most gracious event. And next year, if they closed off the streets, it would be almost perfect.

Have Wheels, Will Travel

There was a momentous event yesterday: Mopsy learned how to ride a two-wheeled bike! And, I missed the big moment! (Of course, I was gone for a few minutes dropping QB at baseball practice. Mopsy picked that half-hour to debut her new trick on the neighbor's driveway.)

It was very exciting and Mopsy was wildly proud. She put on a surprise show when QB got home and again when Jarv was back from work.

You go, girl.

Me: 2. Flu: 0 (knock wood)

Victory! We have shots. Got the injection for child #2, the high-risk kid with asthma. I feel much relieved. Miraculously, they even set aside a second dose for him to have in a month. Yahoo!

Of course we didn't get it from the pediatrician. That would be way too obvious. The kiddie docs here are long since out of the shot. For some reason, I thought to call the allergist who turned out to be an influenza treasure trove. Any of you desperately looking for a flu shot? Call an allergist. Who knew?

I heard today that schools in NYC were distributing H1N1 shots today. Why do we not have it here? We need that shot now! I really don't understand the politics behind all of this.

But H1N1 is my next battle. Today, I'll just be happy about this one small win.

Flu Frenzy, Round 1

I've won the lottery! Got my hands on a flu vaccine for Mopsy, and it was the needle-free flu mist at that. (That always makes for a happy child.) And it only took about 14 calls to the doctor's office.

(Good old Willows Pediatrics has decided to add to the confusion and panic around town and keep flu shot availability info as secretive as nuclear launch codes. Why the mystery, people? It's not helping.)

Poor QB, since he has asthma, has to have the old-fashioned shot variety. Of course the pediatrician is out of that one, naturally, but his asthma specialist has it -- today, at least. Just hope they don't run out before our appointment on Wednesday.

One kid down, one to go.

Don't Try This at Home, Kids

This wasn't my most brilliant day in the kitchen. I was roasting a pork loin the other day, quite pleased that I'd picked out a recipe a day ahead rather than about an hour before dinner, the way I usually do. I even rubbed the roast with mustard and let it tenderize overnight. I was so on my game.

The next afternoon, I threw some brown sugar on top and popped it into a hot oven. To quote Mopsy: easy peasy lemon squeezy. An unencumbered afternoon stretched before me. I could read. Take a nap. Go for a long walk. The possibilities were endless.

At least they were until I smelled the smoke coming from the oven. Hmm. I had it on the right temperature, but the pan drippings were burning as they hit the glass dish. I had to do something or else the smoke detector system was sure to go off.

So I took a cup of water and poured it into the pan. Bad call. The dish exploded the second the water hit. (Too cold, I'm assuming?) Glass was probably not the best choice of bakeware. And this photo shows the porky disaster that ensued.

I had broken bits of glass stuck all over the oven and pan drippings adhered to the racks. By the time the oven cooled off enough to clean it up, a tar-like goo had melded glass shards to the bottom of the oven. In short, it was a complete disaster. I'd lost a pan, a roast, and decimated the oven all in once smooth move.

Oh, did I forget to I mention that the oven is self-cleaning? Well, I am still down a Pyrex.

As Padma would say on Top Chef, "It's time to pack my knives and go."

TiVo Snafu

So Jarv was watching some football game, San Diego, I believe. I say some game, because they're really all the same, aren't hey? Big guys shoving into each other, throwing a ball around, trying desperately to score in the last 60 seconds. (I know, I know, hold your fire, pigskin fans.)

So, anyway, he had to tape the last crucial 20 minutes so we could put the kids to bed. No big deal. We've got TiVo. And after they were down, he flipped it back on. The last 15 minutes were crucial. Someone scored. The game was tied. It all came down to the last...few...precious....minutes.

Until. The recording stopped.

"What happened," I asked innocently, pretty sure that for once I wasn't to blame. Jarv frantically worked the remote, steam nearly visible from the sides of his head. We don't mess with So Cal sporting events in this house. They're sacrosanct. (Sure, there's bound to be another one airing in the next two hours, but don't tell him that.)

But no. The recording was over. There was no more football to be found. Shortly, he discovered the reason why the DVR had deemed it necessary to change channels. It was programmed to record a more highly prioritized program:

Max & Ruby.

Now, I know this was not funny. Not funny at all. It was the San Diego Chargers, dammit! The last four minutes and the game was tied! But to me, the sight of my infuriated husband sitting on the edge of the couch, beer in hand, looking utterly dismayed at the sight of two precocious bunnies on the TV screen was just too much.

I don't think I bothered to mention to him that Mopsy and I had just programmed that Max & Ruby recording earlier that day. Oops. Sorry 'bout that.

But, you'll be glad to know it was the one where the bunnies set up a lemonade stand and Max decides to sell worms and mud pies. Couldn't be cuter.

Pants That Piss Me Off

Okay, a lot of things get under my skin: people who throw litter out of their car. People who leave their cigarette butts on the beach for the rest of us to enjoy. People who run red lights just because they're too lazy to brake.

But this -- this is really annoying.

Have you seen these new corduroys from The Gap? I was looking forward to finding a comfy pair of cords this season, but it looks like I'll be as disappointed as a kid who gets educational toys on Christmas morning.

I mean, come on, people! They're skin tight and tapered, which makes even a normal-size rear look huge. And then they've produced them in this particularly hideous yellowish shade reminiscent of dog vomit. You'll be glad to know, though, that they're available in size 20. To quote Amy Pohler, "Really?" What bozo at the Gap decided these skin tight vomit colored pants are going to look good on someone who's a size 20? Or a size 8? (I'd bet good money it was a man.) The only people these leggings would flatter are the women modeling them and maybe a teenage competitive swimmer.

Since I'm neither a teenager nor a competitive swimmer, I'm not even going to try them on. Ha! Take that, Gap! (They'll be sorry.) I hope they have thousands of them unsold by season's end and have to unload them for $7.99 each.

And yes, I do have my cranky pants on today.

• 
  

Funny of the Day

My kids recently picked up an expression from some other kids: "Holy Crap!" (Ahem. You know who you are.)

Great. Love it. The amusing part, though, is that Mopsy thinks the expression is: "Holy Crabs!"

I'm hoping she doesn't figure it out for a good long while.

Long Time, No Blog

I've realized there's a strange parallel between neglecting your blog for a while and forgetting to call your friends. The longer it goes on, the more you have to say, and the more reluctant you are to blog/call because it'll take just too much time to catch up. Better to wait for a leisurely afternoon when you have loads of time on your hands. Except, when does that ever happen?

So, anyway, that's my story. I've been a lousy friend.

First thing's first. QB and I finally took our flight to Montauk. (This would be the costly private plane ride that I foolishly bid on at a school silent auction, sure that I would be out-priced.) Jarv hemmed and hawed long enough about the plan -- not liking small planes one bit -- so I found myself a new travel companion. It was a good call. I just don't think Jarv's enthusiasm could have possibly rivaled that of our 8-year-old boy who loves all things that fly.

QB got to sit in the front and actually co-piloted. I thought Captain Bob was just bs-ing us on that. But he actually took his hands off the controls once we were in mid-air and left it to QB. Smart idea? Not so sure. I'm nervous about him manning rollerblades much less a Cessna. ButI lived to write about it.

It was a stunning day for flying and it seemed as if we could see all of Long Island Sound, clear over to the Hamptons. First we buzzed over our house where the whole neighborhood was outside for a yard sale and waved to us from the ground. Then we headed eastward, bumping along as we went. We popped over to Montauk in about 40 minutes, a trip that would have taken many hours by car and ferry. I've decided it's really a waste of time to drive anywhere when you can just zip around in a private plane.

There was just one problem: it was a little bumpy in the rear seat. About half-way through our flight my stomach started to turn and I realized Jarv was right about small planes. (I hate it when he's right.) Then I very discreetly tossed my cookies.

Aside from that, it was a perfect day. QB and I strolled around the town, shared a croissant and sat at a cafe playing a Mastermind tournament. Then we headed to the beach which was spectacular. The Sound is wonderful, but I'd forgotten how calming it is to sit and watch the crashing waves in the ocean. QB set about making a sand castle and, as usual, a new friend.

The plane ride was a highlight of the year, but it was even better to get to spend a whole day alone with my son: no agenda, no errands, no playdates. Just the two of us talking and playing. I hope he'll remember our day as long as I will.

DIY Schmuck

So tired. Tried to refinish our front door for the past few days. Was peeling and splitting. Not good. But project bigger than I suspected. What else is new? In-over-my-head is my middle name.

Sanded my arm off. (Okay, I borrowed a power sander, but still.) Bought wrong color stain, which looked like dog poop. Now, must re-sand and stain threshold. Have 3 coats of stain to do, 5 coats of polyurethane. Each one supposed to dry for about a month.

Right now, the handle is off, the door is naked wood which makes it look like our house is going into foreclosure or something. Drop cloths and paint cans are all over the place. And have my sisters, a cousin, a niece and nephew coming to visit tomorrow.

Why am I suddenly so concerned about the front door, you ask? I have no idea. I do this sort of thing every few months. (Kind of like the garden and the truck-load of mulch back in April. That didn't turn out so great either, come to think of it.) Well, too late to back out now.

Must go rest up for tomorrow. Got me some staining to do.

Random Acts of Sibling Kindness

For some strange, inexplicable reason, QB has been extra nice to his sister lately. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. During the first week of school, QB had library class while Mopsy didn't. Now, checking out books is one of QB's greatest pleasures, but he felt sorry for Mopsy's literary loss. Instead of getting a book for himself, he found one that he thought she would like -- a Chinese version of The Boy Who Cried Wolf -- and checked it out for her.

That night, he sat down with her on the couch and read it to her. She was smitten.

The next one's even weirder. A week or so later, they convinced me to take them to Toys 'R Us. QB has been saving up his allowance for some Lego set or another and wanted to go pick one out. Now, Mopsy's savings were running a little dry. She'd just spent her whole piggie bank -- $6 -- the week before on some nonsense from Claire's. (Clip-on earrings, I think. They broke the first day.) QB -- who counts the minutes until his next allowance distribution each Friday afternoon -- sympathized with Mopsy's plight. He offered to give her his allowance for that week so she wouldn't feel left out on the shopping expedition.

I was dumb-struck.

Whatever magical cloud has blown over our house, I just hope it hangs around for a while.

More than a Foot Fault

I'm a huge women's tennis fan. And people often ask me why I don't always, automatically pull for the Williams sisters, who are undoubtedly the best American players -- if not the best players, period. Last night illustrates exactly why.

Serena was wrong six ways to Sunday. It was embarrassing and shocking to watch. I was ashamed for her -- and for the United States.

I'm confused as to why there's any discussion about whether the point penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct was appropriate. Of course it was. Her behavior was atrocious. It crossed the line about four different times. Shaking her racket at the line judge she said, "If I could, I'd take this ball and shove it down your f***ing throat." And so on, and so on. Is this venom what we expect from our most celebrated ladies champions?

Sure, McEnroe and Connors used to do this and worse. (McEnroe was noticeably lacking in commentary during the flare-up last night.) But it's no excuse. That's not behavior to emulate. And, to be honest, we expect more from the women.

This is the reason I love Clijsters and Henin and Davenport: they're all spectacular players and they are gracious as well. They kick ass on the court and let their performance do the talking for them. They don't talk trash about their opponents or make offensive comments, as Serena once did when she referred to the Russian players en masse as "the -ovas." They don't scream and grandstand obnoxiously after most big points like Serena does. Of course she's a spectacular player. Her speed and strength and pure skill are often breathtaking. But she's never been a very good sport.

After the match was called, Serena gave a press conference that was almost as damning as her verbal assault. She didn't take responsibility for her behavior. She didn't admit she was wrong. She claimed -- unconvincingly -- that she didn't even remember what she'd said. When asked if she wished she had handled herself differently, she answered: no. She prefers to live in the moment, she explained, and not to look back. just 20 minutes later, she'd already let the entire matter go. (I bet the shaking linesperson hadn't.) She also implied that other players have done worse and gotten away with it. For some reason, the officials are always tougher on her.

Oh, and she admitted she probably did foot fault after all. Her bad.

Finally, when asked if she would apologize to the line judge she bitched out, she said, "An apology for? From me?"

So, no, Serena wasn't robbed. Clijsters -- who wasn't able to enjoy winning that final point and celebrating a pure, honest and spectacular win to cap her comeback streak -- is the one who was robbed. Yesterday, I would've been proud to have been a Belgian.

Chatter

Here's what Mopsy asked me on the way home from school:

"Mommy, does God live in the trees?"

Not a bad thought.

Rotten Tomatoes

Okay. Fine. So the backyard vegetable garden was pretty much a complete bust. Yeah, I know I was all excited about it. Cocky even. This was how the conversation with the husband went last Spring:

JARVIS: Why are you spending so much time and money on the garden? Last year all you did was feed the rabbit and deer. We didn't even get a tomato out of it.

ME: That's not true! We got lots of tomatoes. And this year, I'm adding the deer fence. Plus, with this amazing mulch I got, we're going to have so many vegetables, I probably won't have to go to the grocery store for weeks on end.

JARVIS: Sure. It worked out to about $32 a carrot last year. How much was all that mulch anyway? I really don't understand why you had to buy all of that.

ME: (Impervious to his small-mindedness, I ignored him. He doesn't appreciate the value of working your own land, of teaching your children where their food comes from, of tasting juicy tomatoes that weren't shipped from Chili and coated with who-know-what sort of pesticides.)

So, fine. He was right, dammit. All of you women out there (or at least the three who are reading this) must know how much it pains me to put that in writing.

It probably did average about $32 a carrot this year, too. Well, it would have if I'd even grown carrots. Instead we had, yes, a single, enormous zucchini (too tough to eat), a few eggplants (which I'm not sure what to do with) and many, many rotten tomatoes. I don't really think it was my fault, exactly. My fellow local gardeners were all complaining of the same thing. It was all the blasted rain in June. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the deer were still getting in. Something was eating all the zucchini blossoms.

I did, however, grow a fair amount of arugula and basil. Can't complain about that. Every time I used an herb over the summer, I waved it in front of Jarv's face and reminded him that they're $3 a bunch at the store. Probably even $4.50 at Whole Foods! He was pleased as punch. At this rate, I'll have amortized down the cost of the garden by.... August, 2011.

But, hey, I've already bounced back. Can't get one lousy crop get me down. Here's Plan B: I'm ripping out all of the dead vegetable plants and filling the plot with hundreds of bulbs to make a nice little cutting garden in the spring. It will be spectacular! The house will be filled with daffodils and tulips. I'm sure Jarv will understand it's a very worthwhile investment. Foolproof. I'm confident it won't average out to more than $12 a flower.

$20 at the most.