FeeFiFoto Blog

The Kindness Of Strangers: Kind Customer Service

Yesterday my father experienced chest pains while exercising; his cardiologist scheduled him for an angiogram this morning.

We've been through this before.  There's nothing easy about it but that's not the focus of this post.  Turns out The Man From D.A.D. is fine; we all inhaled and exhaled a deeeeeep cleansing breath, and Sweet Talker's Bar Mitzvah is taking place as scheduled, although my father is prohibited from his customary stab at the Electric Slide.

No, this story is about the kindness of the guy who made my lunch today.

I stopped by Panera Bread to pick up soup and sandwiches for five of us who were waiting, impatient and unraveled, at the hospital.  The guy taking my order greeted me in German for no apparent reason; then he began reading my list upside down, mentioning which muffins they didn't have and suggesting alternatives.  I complimented his sense of humor and he goofily declared that his goal was my happiness.  I replied that I could use some cheering up because my father was heading into heart surgery.

His aspect transformed immediately.  All silliness gone, he made sure everything I needed made it into the shopping bag.  (Is this the first time I've walked out of Panera with everything I ordered?  Quite possibly.)  Before handing over the bag he threw in an extra scone just for me, and wished my father the best.

Michael:  Thanks.  You helped make my day.

Wordless Wednesday: How Does She Manage To Sleep So Soundly...

...with all the noise made by her choice of pajamas?

PS: Like the chic haircut? Me too.

Wordless Wednesday: Do You See Anything Wrong With This Picture?

Once More, With Feeling: Holding A Rerun Thanksgiving

My nephew, Stretch, spent the past semester at a strict foreign boarding school, in a sort of Junior Year Abroad program for high school students.  The boys had to wear coat and tie whenever they left campus to go to town; computers and cell phones were prohibited.  (Hey, it wasn't so bad -- they went hiking every day until it snowed and then they skied every day.)

The students were allowed to call home once a week, and Stretch was diligent, calling his parents every week, my parents every other week, and our house three times.  In one conversation with Schpilkes he mentioned his unhappiness with missing Thanksgiving, and asked that we have another Thanksgiving dinner after he came home.  Schpilkes, whose motto is and always has been "Anything for a grandchild," declared that November's festivity was to be only a dry run for the REAL Thanksgiving in Stretch's honor in December.

Bette Davis's Eyes Had Nothing On Cleopatra's: Choosing Eyeglasses For A Child

Found out a few days ago that Cleo might need glasses.  She'd been complaining that she couldn't read clocks so I took her to the pediatrician and they recommended she see an eye doctor.  The earliest appointment I could get was January 2; we have a strict family policy of needing medical attention or appliance repairs primarily during holiday weekends, so the Christmas season is the Holy Grail of inconvenience for us.  In fact, we've hit the inconvenience trifecta this time, since January 2 is also smack dab in the middle of Sweet Talker's Bar Mitzvah Weekend Musical Extravaganza.  We've already chosen three frame candidates so we can zip down the street between Bar Mitzvah festivities to order the specs if she in fact needs them.

I'm sad.  I always supposed my kids would need glasses; I wear them, as does every member of my family, so it seemed inevitable.  But Cleo!  Cleo has THE. MOST. GORGEOUS. hazel eyes I've ever seen, the exact color of gingerbread cookies.  They're irresistible and it's a good thing she's not on the Dark Side, since she can charm me into doing practically anything she wants just by turning those big browns in my direction.  And now those stunning golden masterpieces will be hidden behind spectacles.

Sigh.

This Makes Me Feel Optimistic: "Stand By Me" Video

My dear friend Sam sent me this (Hi Sam! Thanks! Have a happy and healthy new year!)
 

Why does music seem to transcend disagreement? Is it because harmony is stronger than dissonance?

Thursday Thirteen: Things I Look Forward To Every Week, Month or Year

1. The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.  The owners and handlers may be divas but the participants are so joyful, how could you not clear a space in your calendar for two nights every February and bask in their glow?
2. New Yorker Magazine.  I love a magazine that devotes pages to a description of how live lobsters are shipped through the UPS hub in Kentucky, while working in an explanation of the manufacturing and shipping of Louisville Slugger bats to professional baseball players.
3. Maureen Dowd.
4. Metropolitan Diary, because of stories like this one:
   

   "Dear Diary:

   Arriving at work in Midtown a few months ago just before 9 a.m., I glimpsed a man walking uptown on Fifth Avenue. He was neatly dressed in a business suit, walking briskly, carrying a large cup from Starbucks in his left hand. Nothing special about this.

   But under his right arm? A huge live, clucking rooster. No one gave him a second look. Only in New York. (Perhaps that was the breakfast special of the day?) Beth G. Kneller"

5. Going to sleep at night.
6. Bossy -- keeping it real.  Real silly. 
7. Posts by Daisy the Curly Cat, Cleopatra's (and my) faithful blog correspondent.
8. The beginning of vacation.
9. The beginning of school.
10. Massages.
11. Cranberries.  It's not that I'm that devoted to eating them; I just like what they represent.
12. Package deliveries, except for prescription renewals because zzzzzzzz.
13. The Saturday New York Times crossword puzzle, because it's the hardest.

Oh Mr. Bean -- I Love You: Christmas Videos

Thursday Thirteen: Don't Do Any Of These Things

• Flush "flushable" wipes.  Yeah -- they say they are, but they're not, not really.  They don't decompose and they clog up the pipes and then the plumber has to come out and snake out the pipes and it's costly and ugly, and just don't.

• Throw chunks of meat down the garbage disposal.  Remember not throwing in celery because the strings will tangle the disposer?  Meat works the same way, and this type of clog always seems to happen at 10:30 pm when you're just about ready to go to bed but you decide to finish up the last of those dishes so you can wake up in the morning to a tidy kitchen so you throw the last questionable leftover food down the sink and run the disposer and then spend the next two hours cranking that little unclogging thing under the machine and sticking your hand down the sink hoping the disposal doesn't spontaneously turn itself on and induct you into the "Sound of One Hand Clapping Society", and then bailing out as much water as you can get and squishing it into a bucket and finally going to bed and lying awake for another hour seething with the frustration of having tried something you knew had no possibility of turning out well, so just don't.

Wordless Wednesday: Get Ready Because Chanukah Is Imminent

Wordless Wednesday: Even I Can Tolerate This One

To Do List: 100 Things About Me Meme

I saw this on Lynn's blog and, while I usually don't do memes because I find it hard to believe that anyone could be that interested in me, I like Lynn and her blog very much, so I'm linking to her out of admiration for her and her adorable Puggle with the big brown eyes and kissable brown nose.

1. Started your own blog. Duh.
2. Slept under the stars. Yeah.  At night, in a bed.  I think there are stars out there somewhere.
3. Played in a band.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to a charity. Always.
7. Been to Disneyland. Many times.  It's the Happiest Place on Earth, isn't it?
8. Climbed a mountain.  Partly.  A very small mountain.  It was hot.  I had to quit at the halfway point.
9. Held a praying mantis. No, but lots of grasshoppers.
10. Sang a solo. Only to my kids when they were too young to beg me to stop.

B-B-B-Blue Christmas

Thanks to the Deep Friar for jogging my memory on this one:

Creating A Memento Of A Family Vacation: Personalized Photo Book

Remember our trip to London?
Kids!  What Are You Gonna Do?
Now Accepting Applications For The Position Of Grandchild
Teachable Moment
Her Dead Father
Jet Lag + Muscle Relaxers = ZZZZZ

Cleo and I made up a photo album of our trip.

Now.  Here comes what some might regard as shameless flogging of our photo gift site, FeeFiFoto.  If you're not interested in a bit of flogging salesmanship, then feel free to move along, but do come back and visit us tomorrow.

We made a real, hard bound book commemorating our trip, containing 100 pages and somewhere between 100 and infinity photographs of Cleo, me, Schpilkes, The Man From D.A.D., various famous London locations, antiquities, food, the occasional celebrity, and a Rolls Royce, but mostly Cleo.

A Note To Our New President

Dear President-Elect Obama:

This young man wants to interview you.  He presents himself professionally and intelligently.  Please consider meeting with him.  Remember -- it's always good to have the press on your side.

Thanks to Jeanne Sager at Strollerderby

Nutcracker, Rockettes -- Same Thing: Kids Get Confused Sometimes

Cleopatra and I saw the Rockettes this morning.  Actually we thought we were going to see the Nutcracker Ballet but the Sugar Plum Fairy et al. turned out to be a gaggle of Rockettes.  About six weeks ago we invited Cleo's friend and the friend's mother to see the ballet with us; the mother emailed back that they were already going with the older sister's sixth grade girl scout troop, and invited us to come along.  We gladly agreed and she ordered tickets for us.  When the tickets arrived I was like: "Ruh roh..." and Cleo was like: "Rockettes?  What are those?" I assured her she'd love them and have the best time ever and besides she could sit next to her friend and giggle at the gaggle.

Turns out there was some Nutcracker involvement.  One of the skits constituted a mini-version of the ballet with the dancers dressed in furry teddy bear costumes.  The Russian dancers were brown bears with thick eyebrows and stern visages.  The Chinese dancers were pandas.

Cleo wanted to know if the segment was sponsored by Build-A-Bear.

Photo Hunters: Favorite

This one was easy, although choosing among so many options was a bit challenging.  Here's one of my favorite photos of Robespierre, from Halloween when he was in third grade:

 This is one of those puffy costumes with the little fan inside that puffs it up like one of those awesome jumping castles.  Yellow's a good color for him, don't you think?

See more Photo Hunters here.

The Kids Don't Need To Hear My Opinions On Everything: Should We Shield Our Kids From Bad News?

Judith Warner, of the New York Times, has reminded me of something that seems so easy to forget:

"My daughter Emilie, who is 8, cannot get out of her head the story of the Wal-Mart worker who was trampled to death by frenzied shoppers in the early hours of Black Friday...

I’m not sure how Emilie heard about Damour. It might have been at school – where she learns, to my great regret, about events like 9/11 and the Holocaust. Or it might have been at the dinner table, where I fear I may have let my guard down the other night and vented my feelings after I read about his death.

“It’s the end of everything,” is the kind of thing that I just might have said.

I normally try very hard to shield my children from those kinds of feelings. I know I’m given to negativity – some might say, to hyperbole – and I’m aware that such expressions, however annoying to adults, can be toxic for young minds. But these are hyperbolic times. The glow of the election is fading. The economy is tanking. It really feels like the wolves are at the door. And so when a temp worker – the economy’s weakest link – is crushed under the weight of it all, it feels, well, like the epitome of everything. Or did to me.

I should have expressed myself better..."

I'm a whiner.  I'm a complainer.  I'm a talker.  I have a tough time keeping my thoughts to myself, and am remarkably skilled at airing my thoughts to exactly the wrong person.

Thursday Thirteen: The Season To Give

Is it worse this year?  I doubt it.  Every year I see stories about how the food banks are hurting, the homeless shelters are in trouble, donations are needed everywhere.  This year I seem to be seeking out more opportunities to give.  It makes me feel good, it sets a good example for my kids, and it helps someone.  So far:

• The sealed anonymous grocery bag filled with canned and packaged food that will go to some family in time for Christmas.
• The needy family adopted by Robespierre's sixth grade class.  He chose the fifteen-year-old boy who wanted a new pair of sneakers; we found Avia running shoes for half price at Sports Authority, and threw in three pairs of socks.
• The stuffed animal donations at Anthropologie for kids with cancer -- a furry brown horse with a fringy mane and tail.
• Ten dollars to the guys who stand out in freezing weather the Thursday morning before each Thanksgiving selling newspapers to raise money for children's charities.  Next year I swear I'll remember to take the paper so I can wave it out the window at all the other newspaper vendors on all the other street corners who appear concerned that I might not yet have participated.

This Counts As A Wordless Wednesday, Since These Are Not MY Words: Christmas Quizzes

You Know a Lot About Christmas

You got 8/10 correct You know tons about the history and traditions surrounding Christmas. When you celebrate the holidays, you never forget their true meaning - or all the little fun details. Random Christmas fact: The average mall Santa is 5'9, 218 lbs, and 52 years old. The average waist size is 43 inches.

How Much Do You Know About Christmas?