Sweet Blog O'Mine

Category: Life

  • Hang Up the Phone*

    Gothamist has a great post today about how long to wait (or not to wait) before calling someone. My personal take on the matter is that you should call when you feel like calling. Generally speaking, if you both like each other, the callee will be happy to hear from the caller. If you don’t both like each other, or one person likes the other more, then a too soon or too late call may have an impact on someone’s opinion. Similar to the guidelines about who pays on dates, however, each person has his or her own rules about what “too soon” or “too late” actually means. That said, I am often advised by my esteemed council of advisors to chill out and wait in terms of calling people. This is because I am not good at masking my interest, or as a friend pointed out, I “hide [my] lack of indifference rather badly. . . which is endearing, so don’t worry.” Damn straight. In my opinion, the right person for me will not be “scared off” by my enthusiasm, and will, in fact, find it endearing. And on a related note — don’t tell me you’re going to call me if you’re not. I was telling a friend recently that, if a guy asks for my phone number, I assume that there’s a 50/50 chance that he’ll actually call. Call me jaded, but it’s true. Some advice, gentlemen — don’t ask for a number if you don’t plan on using it. Agreed?

    What are your rules about calling someone?

    * and speaking of scary 80’s trivia. . . I used to LOVE this song by Annie Golden, which is featured in Sixteen Candles.

  • Do You Google?

    And speaking of search engines, I have to throw a question out to you all. Have you ever Googled someone you dated? This includes exes, future dates, current dates, etc. What’s the best/worst thing you found out about him/her via Google? C’mon kids, don’t be shy. Tell us all about it!


    logo_sm.gif

  • Ah. . . Schvitz

    To continue, and possibly to recover from, my week of getting in touch with the culture of my people, I took a trip to the Russian and Turkish Baths in the East Village. I had been looking forward to my schvitz* all week. My friend Melissa took me to the baths for the first time a number of months ago. I had no idea what to expect. First off all, it’s kind of gritty. In my opinion, this is not a bad thing, but if you’re one of those germ-o-phobe types, this is not the place for you. It has been around since 1892 — I think it has undergone some renovations, but I can definitely imagine my predecessors walking up from the Lower East Side for their weekly schvitz in pretty much the same atmosphere. The current crowd is a bizarre mix of old-school Russians and random hipster types, with a few of the rest of us thrown in for good measure. You wear a bathing suit, and I learned from my last trip that the less bathing suit you have, the better. Last time I wore a suit with a tank top — this time I went for the full bikini. There are several different rooms, all offering slightly different kinds of heat, and a room in between with an ice-cold pool. In between your visits to the heat, you can plunge yourself into the icy water, or just sit on the side and cool off a little. On my first visit, I tried the plunge, but it was a bit much for me. My favorite room is the Russian Sauna — it’s filled with heated rocks and it gets so hot that you literally have to dump buckets of cold water over yourself every few minutes to make it bearable.

    Most of all, a trip to the baths is just a great way to unwind at the end of a week, taking an hour or so just for yourself or to catch up with a friend. Sometimes we get so harried that we forget to do this as often as we should, especially in a city like New York, where the pace can sometimes border on frantic. And you walk out feeling deeply relaxed, refreshed, and, despite the grit, clean. Thanks to Melissa for taking me there.

    So go — take a schvitz already! Tell them I sent you.

    * At the suggestion of one of my readers, I am going to start including definitions for some of the Yiddish terms that I use, in order to educate the goyim (Thanks for the feedback, Ryan!).

  • schvitz — sweat
  • goyim — non-Jews

  • Good Timing

    I stumbled across a blog the other day called smitten, written by a woman who appears to be about my age, living in NY. One of her earliest posts rang so true with me that I had to share part of it with you.

    You know what I am tired of hearing?
    How is it that a girl like you is single.
    Do you want to know the ugly details or do you want me to tell you that I am not a psychopath?
    She goes on to describe some details about her last relationship, and some details about herself, and then:
    So, maybe, the next time someone asks me why I am still single, they will instead say, Iā€™m glad I got to meet you while you still were.

    I feel the same way. Now, I’m not going to go into any details about past relationships and all the different ways they have had an impact on me, etc. (okay, you can read a tiny bit here, but that’s it), but I’m still fairly mystified by the whole “why are you still single” thing. Why do people ask this? And considering the umpteen years that I wasn’t single, I definitely needed to be single in order to really get to know myself as a person — I don’t think it’s possible to be in a truly healthy relationship without some quality time alone.

    But now? The next time someone asks, “How is it that a girl like you is single?” My response will be, “Someone should take advantage of this good timing. I promise I won’t be single forever.”

  • Smart is Good

    Marriage Rates Rise for Educated Women. “Women with three years of graduate school . . . have bucked the declining trend. For them the marriage rate has actually increased by 3 percentage points, to 86 percent.” Good to know that my 3 years at NYU Law might have helped something in addition to my career. Now I just need to find a wicked smaahhht guy who’s smart enough to marry me.

  • Love’s Letters Lost

    Although I never lived up in Portland, my Dad’s house there still is home to a great deal of my memorabilia — high school and college yearbooks, childhood books, programs from plays I was in over the years. Also, in a drawer, are two shoeboxes, each filled with mementos of a romantic relationship. One of these boxes contains what are, to this day, the most romantic love letters I have ever received. It was very important for me to keep them, but also important for me to have them out of my apartment. I read an interesting article today called Zapping Old Flames Into Digital Ash — now that most correspondence is done digitally, people end up with emails, digital photos, and voicemails that chronicle any given relationship. Especially in an online dating scenario, saved emails can be as significant as those letters I keep in a shoebox (which were pre-internet, by the way). The article describes how purging the digital record of a relationship can be theraputic. Personally, I haven’t really gone as far as to purge all emails and photos of someone, but I have cleaned out a slew of email messages from a few dating scenarios over the years. None of these have been particularly significant relationships, however. I would imagine that, in a situation where I was seriously invested emotionally with someone and it didn’t work out, that I’d like to do something similar to a digital shoebox — maybe burn everything onto a CD and file it away somewhere. I even printed out a bunch of emails from a particularly traumatic breakup a while back and put them into the appropriate shoebox. But regardless of my method of saving — I’d never erase them permanently. Each relationship is part of who I am, and zapping it into cyber-oblivion is not the answer for me.

    What about you? Do you keep digital or non-digital records of your past relationships? Inquiring minds want to know . . .

  • Gefilte Dog, or What I Like About Jew, Take Two

    This weekend, I am off to Portland, Maine, for Passover. Sadly, I will be missing my monthly wine club society meeting — we meet the first Sunday of every month. When I told my neighbor, who organizes the wine club society, that I would be home for Passover, he responded, correctly, “but Passover’s on Monday.” “Yes,” I replied, “but we’re having our seder on Sunday because it’s easier for everyone.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “You guys are changing the holiday for convenience?” “Um, yes.” “How very religious of you.”

    Now, I know that some might categorize me as a bad Jew. I eat pork and shellfish, often together. One of my favorite culinary delights is the pancetta-wrapped shrimp at ‘inoteca. I only go to temple on high holidays. I have a tattoo. I don’t like lox. But, strangely enough, I generally fast on Yom Kippur. I keep kosher for Passover (or at least I make a valiant attempt). And, I might add, these behaviors definitely make me the Jewiest Jew in my family. In my family, attendance at temple is not mandatory by any means, even on high holidays. My Dad always does a bizarre editing job on The Concise Family Seder, our Hagaddah of choice, so that it is even more concise. He tends to edit out pieces of the story and keep in the random commentary. I also think I’m the only one in the family who remembers the Passover story year after year. Yes, it’s the same story. I have even suggested that we rent The Prince of Egypt, just to keep it fresh in everyone’s minds. Oy vey. But — we are definitely a Jewish family, with Jewish values. Every holiday is an excuse to gather friends, family, and strays for a good meal. We give back to the community in many ways. All three kids were bar or bat mitzvah’d (well, the twins were b’nai mitzvah’d together), and I’m pretty sure we all like gefilte fish.

    In other news this weekend, I am making my very last excusable visit to college (with the exception of my brother’s graduation in May). My brother is playing in a steel drum concert at Bates, followed by a Yo La Tengo show. So, I’ll be hangin’ with the college kids. And speaking of Jewish culture, there’s a Klezmer band up at Bates called Gefilte Dog — I always loved that name.

    I’m also looking forward to my second annual Passover seder at Sammy’s Roumanian steakhouse next Tuesday (an official seder night, for those keeping track). Stay tuned, and Happy Pesach!

  • Schadenfreude in TV Land

    Now, I’m not a big TV watcher these days. Sure, every now and again I’ll flip on the tube for a little while, but I’m usually doing just that — flipping. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a good movie, watch something on the Food Network, or even succumb to the guilty pleasures of MTV reality-show trash. But recently, I have stumbled upon a great show — Significant Others, on Bravo. I almost wrote about it yesterday, but then thought to myself, Laren, why the hell are you plugging a TV show? On the subway this morning, I was reading my New Yorker that arrived yesterday, and they reviewed the show. They seem to love it as much as I do. That’s it — I’m plugging the show.

    The show centers around three (now four) couples in various stages of marriage who have entered couples therapy. It is split between their time in the therapist’s office and clips of their daily lives — the things that are actually driving them to therapy. Why do I like this show so much? Aside from the brilliant, improv comedy and amazing talent, I’m pretty sure it’s schadenfreude. Maybe it’s the reminder that couplehood can be just as painful as singledom. I definitely love the theme song (a speed-rock version of the Partridge Family’s “I Think I Love You”). Then again, maybe it’s just because it makes me laugh out loud — for those who have heard me laugh, you realize how loud this can actually be. Who knows? Just go watch it tonight at 9:30. It’s hysterical.

    inner_hdr_tuesdays.jpg

  • Spring Has Sprung

    No really. It has. How do I know this? Because yesterday, I took my bike out for her inaugural spin of the season. Granted, I was freezing, so I only rode up on to Chelsea Piers and back — all said and done about 20 minutes — but I took ‘er out nonetheless. There are other signs — the sudden urge to clean out the closet (not that it will actually happen, but the urge is there), the rumblings of spring and summer travel plans, the desire to go barefoot (or at least without socks) if at all possible. Never mind that it’s not supposed to go above 50 degrees this week. I don’t care. For me, it’s spring.


    110_1030.JPG

    Has spring sprung for you yet? If so, see you on the bike path — I’m the one riding the Cannondale compact (yes, it’s the bike for shrimps).

  • Om

    One thing I’ve learned about myself over the years is that when I start to feel slightly stressed out, exercise, sleep and eating well are always my first remedies. This morning, I woke up super-early, as I’ve had a a lot on my mind lately. So — off I went to yoga. I first started practicing yoga about four years ago, and although I’ve never done it regularly, I really enjoy the calm stretching, the chanting, and the breathing. Looking back to my days at music and arts camp, many of the exercises we did to warm up and cool down were yoga poses, which I didn’t realize until much later. But even back then, and particularly now, I have a great deal of trouble shutting out all the outside thoughts. And then I wonder — is it just me? Is everyone else here achieving inner peace, at least for an hour? I can’t imagine that everyone else is simply dismissing all the thoughts that creep into your head during exercise — what do I need to do later today? why hasn’t that guy called me? are my underwear sticking out? I forgot to call my friend back to let her know about tonight — shit. Oh wait. Inner peace, inner peace, inner peace, inhale, exhale.

    Is it just me? What are your yoga thoughts like? Perhaps if I practice more regularly, this will change. Sounds like a good springtime project. Om.


    om2.jpg