The Goods

Details: Category: The Goods; Published: 28 January 2013

annhathaway I am writing this during the most hectic week of my life, the second week of rehearsals for the elementary school play. I have been cast as a co-chair of the school play this year, and, as a method actress, I like to fill my role completely. That is why I have dropped everything, everything for my craft.

I'm like Anne Hathaway as Fantine. I'd cut off all my hair and extract a tooth, if anyone on the PTA were insane enough to ask me to do it. That's how committed I am to this production of Bye, Bye Birdie.

During production, I do not have any sort of a life outside of what happens in the school gym, which means I have to write this article frantically and in secret.
I am so into the whole thing that I call these two weeks "production."

Because I am never allowed out and I must be silent while I write, I'm the Anne Frank of volunteerism.

I mean, if word ever spread that I had smuggled a laptop into the elementary school and was writing a humorous essay during this sacred time of play rehearsal, the school board might kick me out and have me redistricted, perhaps to a horrible place, a place without a school play. And then what will become of my performance-loving children? That cannot be.

And so I only click-clack on the keys while the chorus of 90 are singing the big company numbers, which drown out the sounds I make when I laugh from rereading my own pathetic attempts at joking.

If you or anyone you know or love has ever run a school production, volunteered for such an endeavor, or been in charge of costumes, props, or tech for a school play, then you know just how insane I am right now. But, in case you aren't sure if this is you or not, here's a little quiz to take. If you can answer 'Yes' to three or more of these statements, then you have experienced School Musical Volunteer Insanity.

1. I haven't slept in three days because, when I try to sleep, lyrics from Bye, Bye Birdie (or insert name of other musical here) run through my mind in a compulsive loop that makes me friggin' batty. ("Did they really get pinned? Did she kiss him and cry? Did he pin the pin on? Or was he too shy?") The fact that my husband is sleeping soundly next to me seriously pisses me off.

2. I think I told everyone everything there is to tell, say, or do, but I can't remember now because there is just so much to tell, say, and do.

3. Last week I got a trickle of emails from my friends about lunch plans and play dates, but this week, I am getting 30 emails a day from different parents asking me if it's okay that their children wear off-white socks instead of white as per costume requirements. If I say yes, I'm a sock fairy, and everyone's hero. No means I'm a complete bitch.

4. I have not made dinner for over a week.

5. I have accidentally offended at least two individuals, been misunderstood by five others, and strained what was previously a good friendship, all in the name of helping out the school.

How did you do? I hope you scored a 3/5 or higher! Now, here's the tricky part. This quiz has a second section. Same rules. Here it is:

1. I enjoy teaching my children the musical numbers during dinnertime and I love hearing them break into song in the car or at a random place like a Chinese restaurant. (Long story.)

2. I have been working with such nice volunteers and have had fun in the way you have fun when you are pulling an all-nighter with friends in college. You are bleary eyed and crazy, but it's all good in the end when you ace the test. (Or, in my case, get a solid B plus.)

3. The emails aren't really that bad. I just made them sound that way above because I like to exaggerate and complain. In truth, it sort of makes me feel useful and important that so many people are emailing me about socks! My opinion matters!

4. I LOVE not making dinner!

5. And I LOVE the way a play comes together, just the way it should, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in good weather and in sleet, so help me Conrad. I get to play an active role in my children's memories of elementary school, and for that, in the end, I can only do one thing and, yes, I'm going to say it...Put on a Happy Face.

Break a leg, everyone!

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 here.

Details: Category: The Goods; Published: 23 January 2013

blackcat2 Joan Frederick of Scarsdale reports that she has found a cat in the Edgewood area. The cat, shown here, has long black hair and green eyes and is wearing a flea collar. Help the cat get home! If it's yours, call Joan at 914-714-4140 or email her at: jfrederick@HoulihanLawrence.com

Details: Category: The Goods; Published: 09 January 2013

montsign Forget looking ahead and making resolutions in 2013. Since this year will mark my 25th reunion from Edgemont High School (insert gasp of horror here), I'm going to enjoy a little looking back. Like a shrunken and wrinkled grandma visiting the old neighborhood where she grew up, please indulge me as I take you on a brief yet colorful tour of Central Avenue, circa 1980.

One of the best things about growing up in Edgemont was my proximity to Central Avenue and all that it offered. On the strip of ½ mile between Old Army and Ardsley Road was everything I needed for sustenance, first as a child and then as a teen. In the space that now houses Staples was Child World, the biggest toy store my five-year-old eyes had ever seen. It was a superstore before there were superstores, and it competed with Toys R Us. (My parents wouldn't let me go to Toys R Us because it was located in a very dangerous place: Yonkers.)

There were so many dining options for me on Central Avenue. I loved the chicken cutlets and ambrosia salad from the German Deli, and the pizza at Gennaro's. In the same shopping plaza as Child World was a Chinese restaurant called South Seas that served delicious-slash-gross Pu-Pu platters, the kind with the fire in the center and fried everything all around. It was dark in that restaurant, and so the fire really glowed. I ordered it mostly to play with my food, as spinning the wood dish was easily my favorite part of the meal. When I got older, that restaurant became my favorite for another reason: it served Mai Tais and Scorpion Bowls to minors. The drinks were pictured on a laminated menu, so you could see just how blue the Blue Curacao liquor would be before ordering your preferred concoction. With a straight face, one of us would order for the group. "Can we get that with two paper umbrellas, one silk flower, and three straws, please? Thanks." Then we'd giggle into our napkins. The tackier the drink, the better it tasted.

    Alas, the restaurant closed in the mid-1980's due to health violations. But the news was no biggie to us. We could always hang at The Mont.

    Mont Parnasse diner, lovingly referred to as The Mont, was THE place to be almost all the time, especially during biology class and after a big Saturday night cakesdiner party at either Tamir's or JD's house. I'm talking old school here, before the renovations that changed The Mont from a dark, faux-wood 70's time warp palace into the bright, cheerful, glass and turquoise Florida diner it later became. Before it moved to the corner of Ardsley Road. Back then, each booth had a juke box. The chocolate pudding lived in a rotating display case up front and had 'skin' on the top of it. I loved it topped with whipped cream. I also loved fries with gravy.

    Ah, you could smoke in restaurants back in those days. There wasn't even a smoking section; the whole place was just fogged up with carcinogens. I used to smoke Marlboro Lights in a coveted booth, the juke box playing Madonna while I downed several coffees in a row, confessing my innermost secrets to friends under the soft glow of a faux-Tiffany style plastic 'chandelier.' I would arrive home reeking like an ashtray.

jukebox "Were you smoking?" My mom would ask, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Nah, Mom, gross!" I would fake-shudder, pretending to take offense. "I was just at the Mont for hours. You know how it smells in there."

Who wouldn't love a restaurant that could be used as an alibi?

    Most everything from those days is gone now. One of the last hold-outs - besides from Gennaro's, which is still an awesome place for a slice, and not just because the owner remembers me as a high school cheerleader - was Pizza and Brew.

pizzandbrewtrain Pizza and Brew was the place to go for regular meals as well as celebrations. On a random Thursday night after the Greenville Chorus Concert, that's where my family would go. There would be a line out the door as we waited for a table. Need to have a birthday party with the grandparents on a Sunday afternoon? Head to Pizza and Brew.

    The quirky design feature that defined P and B was the train. You had to request your preference to sit in the train, which was, like it sounds, an old-fashioned trolley-like space in the middle of the restaurant. The tables had black and white advertisements on them and there were wooden slatted benches inside a green train with old movie posters overhead. In the 30 years that I ate at Pizza and Brew, I think I only sat outside of the train three times. In those cases, I liked sitting at the old-fashioned ice cream counter, which had, similar to The Mont, fake Tiffany stained glass lighting. But it also used wax ice cream sundaes for décor.
I am so glad that I brought my own children there to dine several times, now that Pizza and Brew is gone. Over the summer, the Rachanelli family that owns the restaurant closed its doors to renovate. Last month, it re-opened as Racanelli's New York Italian.

    I had to go!

    Perhaps because I was walking around the restaurant randomly taking photos with my phone, I was approached by John Racanelli, one of the owners. "Hi! pizzandbrewnew So, what do you think of the new place?"

    I oohed and ahhed as John gave my kids and me a tour or the beautifully designed new restaurant. "Did you make it bigger?" My 10-year-old son, Andrew, asked.

John laughed. "No, it's just funny what happens to a space once you remove a train from the inside of it. It feels a lot more open."

The restaurant mixes industrial-style elements, such as exposed ductwork and original concrete floors with reclaimed wood and honed marble to make it architecturally appealing and very current. Huge sliding garage doors front the space, which can open in good weather. Hints of the restaurant's past are all over the space, from the red and white ice cream parlor chairs in the waiting area to the original signage, now hanging as artwork. Black and white photos of the Racanelli family surround the bar.

John explained that the restaurant, which his father, Martino Racanelli, opened in 1972, was due for a change. "When the lease came up for renewal, the landlord told my father he needed to do two things: add a bar and update the décor. But then my father got sick."

Martino Racanelli passed away in 2011, and, a year later, the family began remodeling the restaurant. "We refocused the concept onto New York Italian and we've elevated everything. It's Pizza and Brew grown up," John said.

I guess, just like me, and after all these years, a lot of Central Avenue had to grow up too. And Racanelli's is a nice destination for a family looking for a slightly fancier but still kid-friendly night out.

But, to be perfectly honest, dear 2013, I kind of wish I could rewind time, so that I could sit in that train enjoying a greasy slice of pizza after an elementary school chorus concert, maybe just one more time.

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

Details: Category: The Goods; Published: 15 January 2013

carriediaries If you are anything like me (and you are, my dear, you are), then you loved Candace Bushnell's wildly successful column-turned-book-turned-HBO hit-turned movie Sex and the City. The fashion, the dramas, and, best of all, the relationships between Carrie Bradshaw and friends had us hooked faster than you can say "Jimmy Choo."

But, alas, all good things must come to an end.

But, where did it all begin? With The Carrie Diaries, of course! In this television prequel to Sex and the City, based on the Young Adult books by Candace Bushnell, we meet high school junior Carrie Bradshaw. The year is 1984. The story begins on the first day of school, three months after Carrie's mom has died of cancer. Carrie, her younger sister Dorrit, and their dad are doing the best they can to get by without her, but they are each struggling in their own ways.

As expected, Carrie (played by AnnaSophia Robb of "Soul Surfer") has a great posse of best friends to cheer her up and keep her moving forward. There's The Mouse, who comes back from summer vacation having lost her virginity to a college boy, and Maggie and Walt, who are dating each other although Maggie is cheating on Walt. It's okay; Walt likes boys, but isn't quite ready to admit that he's gay.

Oh, and then there's the new guy, bad boy Sebastian Kydd, who plays Carrie's love interest. And let's not forget Donna LaDonna, the popular girl at school and Carrie's nemesis. Donna comes outfitted with big hair and earrings and a duo of mean girl sidekicks.

In the first episode, Carrie gets an internship at a Manhattan law firm and life begins to take off for her, as she's romanced by her favorite man, Manhattan. We see Carrie find her sense of style, taking vintage pieces of her mother's and polishing them with her own creative flair, and we see her test the boundaries of young adulthood with drinking, shoplifting, and sex.

It's all very Carrie Bradshaw.

I love love love it.

The 80's music in the background is perfection. The fashion, the friendships, the drama, the city: it's all there. I was hooked faster than you can say "Capezios."
AnnaSophia Robb does an amazing job of filling the spirit of young Carrie Bradshaw without trying to be exactly like Sarah Jessica Parker. There is enough distance between the two actresses to feel like each one is putting their own mark on the character. But watch young Carrie bound across a city street in heels, and you'll see: she's got it just right!

Finally, at the end of the hour, when young Carrie opens a notebook to write her reflections - while seated at her desk in front of an open window in her bedroom, of course - you just might cry a little.
Welcome back, Carrie. We missed you.

Watch it:
The Carrie Diaries
Mondays @ 8 pm on the CW

Read it:
The Carrie Diaries by Candace Bushnell
Summer and the City: A Carrie Diaries novel by Candace Bushnell

Details: Category: The Goods; Published: 20 December 2012

gerstenblatt As both a parent of two elementary-aged children in the district and as a former Scarsdale Middle School teacher, I feel comfortable sharing with you what I know and what I believe about safety. Scarsdale schools do have in place a good security system, which was implemented after 9/11. It works as long as people do not prop open the doors out of laziness or for convenience. Teachers and students also have lockdown practices and the faculty conducts yearly drills with local police.

But you know all of this. You've heard it from Michael McGill and other officials. Rationally, we can say, the doors are locked, the teachers are aware of what to do. But, ultimately, we never really know what will happen in life.

And so that's why I say that I feel as safe as I possibly can feel about sending my children to school in a world where random, unimaginable violence lives.

To surrender to the fears I felt on Monday when I put my children on the school bus would have meant giving in to terror. I refuse to do that.
I do not want our schools to become prisons. I do not want there to be guards outside every door. I want my children, when they are older, to feel free to come and go on the high school campus, provided they don't cut biology class in order to get a sandwich at Lange's. I refuse to let terror rule my life.

That being said, since the school shootings in Columbine, there is not a classroom I enter without thinking, where would I hide the children? I have lived through scary days in school. On September 11th, I drew a map of Manhattan on the blackboard of my 7th grade English classroom and assured my students that their parents, if they were working on 75th street or near Grand Central Station, were safe.

I did not know that for certain. But I needed them to believe it.

On Friday, December 14th at 1:30 pm, I parked outside my own children's elementary school. I had just heard the tragic story coming out of Newtown and entered the Fox Meadow office in a state of distress. I was there to teach art appreciation to my son's 5th grade class. I was crying and needed to sit down. It was hard to breathe. I was ushered into the conference room where I talked with our principal, teacher-in-charge, and secretary. They brought me water and hugged me.

"If you don't want to be at school right now, we'll understand," Mr. Wilson said to me. "You don't have to teach."

To be at school, to teach, to be with my children – there was complexity to my distress. I felt shocked and grief-stricken, yes, but I also felt so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. And I felt safe in my children's school.

In fact, there was no place else I'd rather be.

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