All I Want for Hanukah is Christmas
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Dear Hanukah Harry, The first thing I want this year for Hanukah is Christmas. No offense to my People. I love being Jewish. It's just that Christmas looks like so much fun, don't you think? Anyone who doesn't celebrate it is kidding herself if she says she isn't just a tad bit envious of the hoopla surrounding December 25th. There is a tree to pick out and decorate. There are carols to sing. There is eggnog to drink. There are awful tinsel-covered sweaters to wear.
Harry, at Christmastime, you get to string colored lights on your house and put reindeer antlers on your dog!
Can't I do it just once? For 2012? I promise not to celebrate it for any religious significance, just as the cultural phenom it has become.
Look at it this way. Hollywood has immortalized the Christmas spirit in classic movies like "White Christmas" and "It's a Wonderful Life." They even celebrate the stress of the holiday with movies like "4 Christmases" and "Christmas Vacation." There's "Miracle on 34th Street," and "Elf" and "Scrooged" and "Bad Santa." There's "The Nightmare Before Christmas," "Arthur Christmas" and "The Santa Clause." There's a Home Alone Christmas and a Muppet one, too. Christmas is so mainstreamed, so American! Just like me!
When I tried to think of Hanukah movies, I couldn't come up with a single one. Then I remembered that Adam Sandler, the Patron Saint of Hanukah, had made "8 Crazy Nights" a few years ago, cornering the market on animated Hanukah musicals. But beyond that one, I was stumped. Google was of little help, bringing me to a site that promisingly listed the Top Ten Hanukah movies. Number one on the list was the little-heard-of holiday classic, "Shalom Sesame," in which Grover goes on "an exploration of Jewish traditions and identities."
Is Grover Jewish? Hmm. Did you know this, Harry?
The list fell apart from there, with titles like "Chanukah on Planet Matzah Ball," and "Chanukah and Passover at Bubbe's." Maybe the first hurdle to creating a quintessential seasonal feel-good flick is that no one can agree to a definitive spelling of the holiday. How can we immortalize Chanukah when it's also Hanukah, Harry?
Oy.
In short, if I treat Christmas like one big, over commercialized, jingle-infested Santa mall, can't I celebrate it just this one time?
Pleeeze?
Fine. Moving on.
The next thing I want for Hanukah this year may seem underwhelming to you after the big shanda of my Christmas wish, but here it is, my soul laid bare: I want a second refrigerator to store extra food in my basement.
"I got a second refrigerator in my garage last year, and it changed my life," my friend told me the other day. She actually boasted about it, if truth be told.
If I had a second refrigerator in my basement – or, I could put it in the garage, I suppose - I could buy items in bulk, thereby reducing my carbon footprint and helping Al Gore and the planet. As it is right now, I drive to the supermarket twice or sometimes three times a day in my big stinking SUV. I bet that if I could buy 50 frozen pizza bagels instead of one puny box of 9 at a time, I would be a saner person and the hole in the ozone layer would begin to heal. My kids would never run out of fish sticks or pizza bagels or ice cream, and I'd never have to cook again because all I'd have to do is heat things up or defrost them. I'd spend less time in my car, aimlessly driving around suburbia trying to remember the one thing I forgot to get at the grocery store and more time ranting to the world via my computer. That's what I'd call a win-win.
Lastly, Hanukah Harry, I'd like a personal assistant. It's really hard to keep track of all my little post-it notes with to-do lists scribbled on them. I'd say that 6 out of 10 items get done later rather than sooner, and approximately 1 out of every ten items doesn't get done at all. I would be much more efficient if I could just tell someone else what I need done and have them do it for me.
Think about it this way, Harry: if someone else bought, kept track of, and wrapped my children's 16 Hanukah presents, then I'd have plenty of time to string the lights on my Christmas tree.
Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. Read about her new book Lauren Takes Leave and keep up with the latest from Julie Gerstenblatt at http://juliegerstenblatt.com
A Random Thanksgiving Conversation
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Ever bump into someone and start having a funny conversation about nothing, a la Seinfeld? Well, that happens to me all the time. In this new "series," I am going to re-tell these random discussions with as much accuracy as I can, for no other reason than because I want to.
While walking out of the JCC the other day, I was stopped and greeted by my friend Lisa. She picks up from gymnastics when I drop off for swimming, so we now have a sort of planned-unplanned chat every Tuesday in the hallway while waiting for our children. Here is our most recent:
Lisa: Hi! How are you?
Me: Good, thanks. What's up?
Lisa: I think you should be writing about Pinterest. I'm on there, and like, why isn't Julie writing about this?
Me: Because I'm kind of dis-Pinterested in it.
Lisa: You are? You're dis-Pinterested? I just joined and I think it's so great!
Me: Ah, you just joined, maybe that's why. And there are pretty pictures.
Lisa: Also, it really speaks to my OCD! This one woman collected all her recipes and she photographs the food. It's a great place for Thanksgiving ideas!
Me: Ah, you want Thanksgiving ideas. I don't. I just do the same boring thing every year and hate it.
Lisa: See, that was me and my sister and mom before! We made all this food that no one even wanted to eat!
Me: Welcome to my holiday table!
Lisa: But now I've got all these fun ideas from Pinterest. I've even printed out this thing, it's a Thanksgiving trivia questionnaire and I'm going to put one on everybody's seat. It asks things like, how many feathers does a turkey have?
Me: (Actually wanting to know the answer to this question, oddly enough.) That sounds fun! I think my family should just come over to your house for Thanksgiving.
Lisa: (Not taking the bait.) Also, I learned something else about technology this week. I learned from my younger cousin that Facebook is (insert dramatic pause here) for old people.
Me: Old meaning us?
Lisa: Yes. Apparently, younger people are Instagramming.
Me: Jeez. I don't really even know what that is. Just taking pictures?
Lisa: I asked my cousin if she uses Facebook at all, and she's like, "Yeah...I go on a little bit, every once in a while..."
Me: Maybe that's because Facebook is now the best way to complain about having no electricity, and how hard your kids' math homework is, so...maybe it really has become where old people hang out in cyberspace.
Lisa: I'm telling you, Instagram.
Me: Huh. Well, Happy Thanksgiving!
Lisa: You, too!Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
Current Home Opening on Palmer Avenue in Scarsdale
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This is a snapshot of me. I’ll be driving around town in my car, singing along with Rihanna, making a mental list of things I did and did not accomplish in my busy day, when suddenly, I remember: my sister-in-law’s birthday is in three days and I haven’t bought her a present! Or, I need a hostess gift for Saturday night! Or, I was going to buy a housewarming gift for my friend who finally bit the bullet and moved to the suburbs from the city but I totally spaced and now I have no time to get something fun! Damn!
I yell at myself a lot in the car.
But now I can relax and pull over at the Five Corners, and so can you, because Current Home is here to answer all of our shopping dilemmas. Anniversary gift for mom and dad? Check. Art for your daughter’s hip, tween bedroom? Check. Awesome new serving tray to jazz up your blah Thanksgiving table? Check. This chic, contemporary home accessories store has it all.
Current Home, located next to the Metro Deli at 8 Palmer Avenue, is owned by three Scarsdale women, Michele Brettschneider, Alyson Lane, and Karen Tolchin, and is the evolution of A & M Table, formerly located on the second floor at 1495 Weaver Street. The business began in the spring of 2010, when Alyson and Michele teamed up to bring modern, fresh accents to the suburban marketplace. They started by setting up a showroom at Michele’s home, where items on display could be specially ordered, eliminating the need to house a great deal of inventory and allowing them to test the market. “It started because we felt there was a void,” Michele says.
“There was no place local to buy updated, contemporary pieces,” Alyson adds.
They had an idea, they saw an opportunity and they took it. “We just started! We said, ‘we can do this’.” Michele explains, standing in the almost-ready-to-open, beautiful new space where she and her partners are unpacking boxes of barware. “This new store has evolved from that successful home business.”
I love that. Don’t you just love that?
The third partner, Karen Tolchin, recently joined the venture and helped take the store to their new location. “As the business grew, the 
partnership grew too,” Alyson explains.
So, while they still carry the home accessories that their fans have come to know and love, like agate coasters and bookends, leather trays and boxes, hammered silver bowls and horn serving pieces, they have been able to grow their offerings as well. Current Home is in a bigger retail space now, in a high-traffic area, with an easy-to-see storefront. They are excited to be able to expand their product line to reflect the growing needs and interests of their customers.
Karen, with her trademark enthusiasm, tells me about some of the new offerings. “We’re carrying artwork! That’s our big new thing,” she explains. One prominent artist’s name is Camomile Hixon, who works in…wait for it…glitter. (Yes, glitter art! I’m talking bright, fun, pop-art style graphic prints. She’s toats amayze.) “We also have these custom-made, acrylic bookends for a teen’s bedroom,” she says, pointing to a hot pink pair of peace signs. They can be ordered with any symbol representing your child’s interests, and can be made in any color.
The store has small furniture items, as well, from poufs to bar carts to rugs and mirrors.
Current Home carries unique light fixtures too, some of which are on display in the sleek storefront. “We hope to create look books in the near future, for customers to flip through, of all our favorite items for order,” Karen explains. They often work with designers and decorators who buy items for their clients’ homes, and they also do wonderful corporate gifts and teacher gifts.
The aesthetic of Current Home is edgy, fresh, of-the-moment sophistication, like the home shop on the 7th floor of Barney’s. The store even carries some of the same designers, such as Thomas Fuchs, whose Remains Collection -- upscale barware featuring skulls -- is a favorite. I fell in love with the acrylic items by designer Alexandra Von Furstenberg, like a smoky backgammon set that is as pretty to look at as it is functional. (While these particular items are pricey, the store carries a range of great items from about $20 and up.)
Things in this store call my name. I swear. They whisper “Take me home with you,” when I touch them.
It’s very hard to leave Current Home without buying something. So, I have to know, when will they be open for business?
“We were supposed to open this past week, but Hurricane Sandy delayed everything,” Karen says. “The floors couldn’t come in from Boston. We had no power. We packed up from our old store in the dark, with lanterns! Our children helped out, because they had no school!”
Yes, the owners are all moms, with seven children between the three of them. “We moved stuff over here in our own cars and the kids unpacked.”
Helping mom advance her new business venture? I’d say that’s the best use of time off from school that I can think of. And supporting local moms as they make a dream into a reality? That’s a good use of everyone’s time.
Current Home hopes to be open this weekend, or by Monday at the latest, to meet all of your Thanksgiving needs. Feel free to buy me – I mean yourself -- a little something.
Current Home
8 Palmer Ave
914 723 2462Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
Temporary Housing Now Available for Seniors at the Hebrew Home
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Good news for Seniors without heat: The Village of Scarsdale and the Hebrew Home in Riverdale are announcing that senior citizens affected by Hurricane Sandy can find temporary shelter at the Hebrew Home at Riverdale. Private rooms with full baths in their assisted living facility are available at no cost. The Hebrew Home at Riverdale is also providing hot meals for those in need. Limited transportation to the facility may also be available. For more information contact Deborah Messina at the Hebrew Home at Riverdale at 800‐567‐3646.
A Home Schooling Curriculum For the End of The World (with reading list attached)
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One of the goals of a superb education is to ensure that the next generation – our children -- are ready to compete in a global economy. Upon graduation, will they have what it takes to survive against powerhouses like the Japanese? The Germans? Those darned Sweeds? In the wake of recent meteorological events, I say we shift gears a bit and refine our American educational goals. Forget reading and writing and Singapore math. Let’s just hope that everybody survives.
Fact: My ten-year-old son has missed about 20 days of school for weather-related causes. 12 and a half of those were from “superstorms” or rogue/freak/this-never-happens crazyass damage caused by wind or ice. (That half day was caused by the Halloween storm of 2011, when the elementary school opened for a costume pity-party parade in the school parking lot and then sent everyone home because it was too effing cold and dark to eat candy inside the building.) He and his sister have begun to think that missing a week of school every third year is the new normal, much as one might say that navy is the new black, or that New Coke was momentarily the new Coke. Right now it’s like my offspring are professors at a prestigious university, enjoying their god-given sabbatical.
I am starting to think that my children’s memories of school will be fond because they only attended once in a while and thus looked forward to it with heightened anticipation and glee, much like Laura Ingalls Wilder did during planting season on the prairie. “We really get to go to school, Ma and Pa? For a whole week? Say it ain’t so!””
“Don’t forget your chalkboard, Half-Pint!” I’ll say, as my daughter bounds out of the house, petticoats and braids flying.
You think I’m kidding? When the power goes, there won’t be a chalkboard app on her iPad for long. She’ll have to use an actual chalkboard. And then I’ll start calling dressing her oddly and calling her Half-Pint for fun.
What our children need in order to save them from the hazards caused by global warming is an educational foundation grounded in this very same earth that is now imploding all around us.
Our children need to learn how to wield an axe to cut down the trees that fall into their homes and then use those trees for kindling to heat their homes. Or, perhaps, to build new ones. They need to think and act like scouts without the sex abuse scandals, learning what the word ‘orienteering’ means and helping old ladies across 6-lane intersections without the guide of any working traffic lights. Refine the Phys Ed curriculum to include sandbagging and roof climbing, I say.
Also, globalization is critical, as the next generation will need to learn how to read the Mandarin instructions that come with a black market crank-handled radio or an imported Croatian generator. Our teenagers need to know how to style their hair without product or ionic hairdryers and how to talk directly to people by looking at them face-to-face - because there will no longer be texting to hide behind - and because we’ll all be living side-by-side on cots in shelters on high ground. They’ll need to learn how to walk to school uphill in the snow both ways all summer long. When I say back-to-basics, I really mean back-to-basics.
And so, I’d like to propose a curriculum for the end of the world. This step-by-step manual contains pre, during, and post-apocalyptic teaching guides intended to home school your child in the dark of your very own, semi-submerged house, using your state’s learning standards. It is applicable for grades K-12.
For those of you with gifted children, there are AP and Honors tracks available, at least until those tracks get washed away by the approaching tsunami.
To give you a little taste of what’s in store, attached is the Summer Reading Guide of Realistic Fiction (note: these used to be called “Apocalyptic Fiction” or “Dystopian Fantasy” but, in the wake of Sandy et al, the genre has recently been renamed.) Remember also, the term “summer” now extends from January to December.
These titles can be purchased on Amazon.com; summary content was taken directly from that website.
Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer
I guess I always felt even if the world came to an end, McDonald’s still would be open.
High school sophomore Miranda’s disbelief turns to fear in a split second when an asteroid knocks the moon closer to Earth, the way “one marble hits another.” The result is catastrophic. How can her family prepare for the future when worldwide tsunamis are wiping out the coasts, earthquakes are rocking the continents, and volcanic ash is blocking out the sun? As August turns dark and wintry in northeastern Pennsylvania, Miranda, her two brothers, and their mother retreat to the unexpected safe haven of their sunroom, where they subsist on stockpiled food and limited water in the warmth of a wood-burning stove.
This awesomely depressing trilogy will feel like another day at home with the kids.
The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker
In The Age of Miracles, the world is ending not with a bang so much as a long, drawn-out whimper. And it turns out the whimper can be a lot harder to cope with. The Earth's rotation slows, gradually stretching out days and nights and subtly affecting the planet's gravity. The looming apocalypse parallels the adolescent struggles of 10-year-old Julia, as her comfortable suburban life succumbs to a sort of domestic deterioration.
This blurb had me at “domestic deterioration” and “long, drawn-out whimper.” Feels like life with the spouse who cannot commute to his/her office because that office is no longer there! Fun for the whole family.
The Dog Stars by Peter Heller
A first novel set in Colorado after a superflu has culled most of humanity. A man named Hig lives in a former airport community—McMansions built along the edge of a runway—which he shares with his 1956 Cessna, his dog, and a slightly untrustworthy survivalist. He spends his days flying the perimeter, looking out for intruders and thinking about the things he’s lost—his deceased wife, the nearly extinct trout he loved to fish.
Doesn’t this description make you want to run/swim/paddleboard right past your McMansion and to your nearest CVS for your flu shot, while fishing along the way? (Don’t drive – it’s a waste of scarce gas.)
Trapped by Michael Northrop (To be release on Dec 12, 2012, if there is such a date)
It’s a setup just plausible enough to give you chills. A nor’easter, which will ultimately be known as the worst blizzard in U.S. history, sweeps into a rural New England community, trapping seven kids inside their high school for days. Northrop begins with some dark foreshadowing—“Not all of us made it”— which makes the students’ gradual realization of their predicament all the more frightening. First the snow piles up past the windows; then the water pipes freeze; then the roof starts making ominous noises. What begins as a sort of life-or-death The Breakfast Club (there’s the delinquent, the pretty girl, the athlete, and so on) quickly turns into a battle for survival.
A life-or-death Breakfast Club? Are you kidding me? Best way to die in a book ever. Can’t wait for it. Literally, I can’t wait.
In summary, I’m just working out the basics now, but hope to have the curriculum ready to go before next Wednesday, when a non-fictitious nor’easter threatens to psychologically damage every weatherman by making him question whether he can possibly be that unfortunately historically accurate twice in a row. Until then, stay safe, stay warm, and stay dry.
And read about the end of the world – it’s only fiction, after all.Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. Read about her new book Lauren Takes Leave and keep up with the latest from Julie Gerstenblatt at http://juliegerstenblatt.com
