Meatballs

I know that hindsight is 20/20. I get that I had a complaint at my daughters’ camp and that nothing is perfect. But with my hindsight vision I can say that their camp is perfection. The land is beautiful; the bunks are neatly arranged where girls are on one side facing the lake and the boys are on the other; same view.

The bunks are cleaned by a service but there is no cell service, no electronic anything and they certainly want for nothing while there.

In the evenings at the girls’ camp, the counselors have an official meeting and discuss the day, the campers and any situations that may have occurred. In short, the owner knows who was constipated and what that kid ate the days prior.

Not at my son’s camp. In fact, while I used to say my girls’ director was like a Drill Sergeant, my son’s reminds me of a teenager- home alone without his parents for the weekend, who is inviting people over to party.

What makes me say that, you wonder? Well…. I was watching some camp reels from both camps and one screamed, Lord of the Flies. Plus, my son’s bunkmate told his mother he sold something to get coins for the (wait for it) vending machine.

Before you say, well if your son likes it then that’s what matters…. I say, he would like anything!

***I’m done. Not saying another word about it.

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Mall Cop

Today the housekeepers came- this time without the owner. Now, they get $60 an hour for three hours; I know. Its like when the market thought they could charge $7.69 for cream cheese- they have me by the roids.

Anyway, today I noticed the two women were on the main level of the house rather early…and it appeared they were going to leave at the two hour mark according to my Ring cameras.

When I went into one of the rooms they said was finished, I took one look and asked her to come back into the room.

Me: Did you do this room?

Her: Yes, yes, I do.

Me: Did you wash the floors?

Her: Yes, I wash.

Me: (pointing to the open area in the room that has a spill stain) It doesn’t look like you did. …And I also asked you to move the furniture so you could sweep…. and you didn’t do that either.

Well, back she went into that room to clean (lying bitch) and I parked myself in the adjacent room so I could watch. Moments later, she and her helper were out of that room and walking towards the garage door when I asked if she had cleaned the laundry room.

Her: You want next time?

Me: No, I want now. You have 45 more minutes and if I have to pay for the full 3 hours, then I would like you to move things in here and clean it. Thank you.

Needless to say, while the owner of the company does not want to lose my business, I am sorry, at $60 an hour for someone who doesn’t have a PhD in cleaning from Yale…. she should be working as if her boss was here!!!!

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Waiting

Today I had my brain MRI. If I am going on past reviews, I should be hearing good news tomorrow. But every test is a game of Russian Roulette at my expense.

And after I hear tomorrow morning’s review, I get to repeat a few more tests to see how the rest of my body is fairing. And depending on those, two more MRI’s on the 2 millimeters of body they missed.

Typically I am nervousish when these scans come, but I have too much laundry to do and I should be at Mahjongg… alas, I am hold up in bed with my laptop. So…

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What Was That Look?

I’ll tell you. I was learning towards the lace. In fact, I told the maher, “it’s the lace!” But then the Frumas came and I stared at the defining place where one can tell: your hair vs. lace/wig. Keep in mind, both are human hair.

What stood out, and possibly from watching hours and hours of Insta videos of what foreheads look like with lace, was every lace front had the same “triangle” look. While the hair is real and baby hairs get pulled from the wig to resemble as much as it can like one without a wig, at the end of the day… I can always see the poppy seeds on the counter.

So, I looked from the maher to the Fruma to my people… and what we saw was the elephant in the room.

Huh? Okay… think Barbie/Doll hair/hairline … that’s how synthetic wigs look. No matter how $$$ they are, they look like doll hair. Well, the lace started to stand out to me/us like that.

So, this was the look…

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Sheitel’s choice

So much to say. Yesterday I went back to the shekel maher with my mom, other daughter and my friend who thinks she “swallows” quietly while on the phone, despite knowing its a hard eh eh.

It was time to decide: lace or wig. Now, this post is not the time to school you on the difference, but in the spirit of things: Lace is more expensive because the cap which rests on your head, can essentially see throughish to your own scalp/part and NONE of your hair can show. With lace you have to get “baby” hairs pulled from the wig to create a most authentic hairline. Wig: also in the upper $$$$, can have just a tiny bit of your own hair out in the front, to create a 100% natural look.

Now, I loved the color and style of the wig but the feel of the lace. Sure, I could get the lace, have someone put roots in it to create more of my color, get it cut and styled… but once the maher told me that once the “lace front” gets cut, it wouldn’t feel as snug anymore (what I’d liked), it became a matter of maybe it will fit best, maybe it won’t?

If you know me, decisions are the last thing I like to do and every choice is the wrong one. It wasn’t as easy as say, choosing your engagement ring (Jewish men known to have the women pick it out so they don’t start off in the shit house) where you immediately know, that’s the one. Not like deciding which house to buy or should you change your last name after marriage. I suppose it’s like picking a name for your child. Two great names could be the factor and the kid “looks” like they’d respond to either… both parties love both the names and no, can’t use as a middle. Both names are equally amazing but each one uniquely different…

So, I’d decided on the lace. I thought, I don’t know if I will just color the front of my hair over time if its all being covered and if its less snug, so be it.

…And then, in came Fruma uno.

FU: Maher, is it okay if I have a moment with you?

Maher: (looks to me)

Me: Sure!

Meanwhile, I look over at my gallery who are going back and forth with which I should get, “get the most comfortable…” (as if I remember from moment to moment; both feel okay in a diff way)… we all sort glance at Fruma uno’s lace (all orthodox where only lace or fall wigs with bands).

FU: (looking at us goys (since we’re not orthodox)) What do you think? I feel like it has a “bump”.

Me: (looking) (will mine look like hers?) I don’t see a bump…

PG (peanut gallery): It looks fine to us.

Next, she leaves and I switch wearing (forgot which feeling I like best) the lace/wig on and off when Fruma 2 comes in.

F2: (wearing a scarf) Maher, is it okay if I get my “styled” for shabbat sheitel?

Me: Sure

Maher: Okay…

Meanwhile, I drey back and forth to my people, creating havoc from hemming and hawing (7hr+ total with this maher), over I’m just going to get the lace, I can’t be bothered with pulling out my hair and coloring it… it will look fine one the lace is cut…. and then I see…

F2: (wearing her lace) I think that lace is going to look great on you.

Me: (staring at her forehead, noticing the “baby hair” pull outs to make it look realer) Thanks.

Panic strikes me, I look over at my people and our eyes lock on the same thought, I look back at the maher… who is looking at me, knowing that I am once again in the same situation when I took my son to an endocrinologist who was 5’3… and I say:

I’m going with the wig.

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The Pool Jogger

A few weeks ago I ordered a pool jogger thingy so that I could run in place. I remember looking at weighted belts that go around one’s waist and I vaguely recall hubby saying, “another waste of money item.”

Anyhow, I could swear I heard Alexa mention a pool jogger being delivered and all I knew was, that I couldn’t wait to try it.

When I saw it I was a little unsure about it- due to its size, but clear thinking and I have broken up so…. I just kept riding it around the pool. Sure, I noticed the dangling rock that weighted down the seat and I noticed there was no “belt,” but again, I was too unaware to question it.

Fast forward to the next time when my sister and I are at the pool, and I notice my jogger on the edge … hubby seemed to have placed it as some sort of make-shift ramp for bugs. Noticing my annoyance, my sister said she would wash it off for me. “Here, nothing’s on it now,” she’d said.

Well yesterday, I went down to the pool and saw my newly cleaned jogger dangling from the side of the pool again!

Me: STOP using my jogger as some bug pad!!

Hubby: That is not a bug pad, that is a ramp for animals that fall into the pool. In fact, today it held a bird.

Me: YOU ARE USING MY JOGGER FOR YOUR ANIMALS???

Hubby: Do I need to pull up the Amazon order and prove to you it’s for animals?

Me: You sure do!

(Well, I am able to sit on it because it fits my tussy and I have been using it)
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Last Three Slices

Hubby and I play this little game, and I’m curious if any other couples do as well. I call this game, who will cave first?

Almost every time we get pizza, we are faced with the dilemma of should we throw out the last few slices … should we wrap them up, or…why don’t you just finish them?

Now keep in mind, that neither of us should be finishing off anything, but the slices that I’m referring to are from small, individual pizzas … the type our children get, and after two baby slices they get full (lightweights). I could polish off a large pizza… possibly minus 2 slices, so those nuggets could disappear in one bite… like a crocodile.

Anyhow, the other day hubby had his slices, the ladies had their pizzas and I stared and drooled. When the teens left the table hubby said:

Hubby: (Pushing the box of pizza towards me) Here, why don’t you eat these?

Me: (Lying) I’m not hungry.

Hubby: Don’t let them go to waste…

Me: (If you’d get the fuck out of the kitchen, they’d have been gone!) Naw, don’t want.

Hubby: Okay, I’ll just wrap them up.

Me: (It’s been several minutes of this, they’re going to get colder) I could wrap them if you want.

Hubby: Nope, I’ll take care of the kitchen, you go relax.

…Meanwhile, depending on who won the clean-up battle, those slices were swallowed whole the moment the other walked away.

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Alexa, STFU

Well, tonight we all (minus my youngest) sat at the dinner table together after a full day apart and this happened.

Hubby: What smells in here??

Kid 2: It’s mommy’s food!

Hubby: Are you sure it isn’t Bella’s discharge?

Me: (Vomiting) EWWWWW, what’s wrong with you?

Hubby: It really stinks in here! I can’t sit here.

Alexa: You have two new notifications; would you like to hear them?

Hubby: Yes!

Alexa: A box containing KY Jelly Lubricating Gel was delivered and something else.

Me: (WTF! I ask him to fix the shades and that takes years?)

Hubby: (Acting as if he didn’t hear) Are you sure it’s not Bella?

Kid 2: (Staring at me; making a face)

Kid 1: (Look of disgust) Rochelle! What is all that about?

Me: Not sure what you mean?

Kid 1: When I went into the App yesterday all these lubricating jellys came up.

Me: (MF) Well, my vajeen is dry when I walk too much so…

Kid 2: I can’t…

Kid 1: Oh really? Is that why when I came into your room the other night and saw you both wide awake?

Me: Oh sweet girl, that ship sailed a long time ago; dad has a girlfriend now.

Kid 1: Is her name your vajeen?

Needless to say, hubby can use it with Alexa.

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Montage

There are many reasons I chose to begin my son’s montage for the upcoming (May, 2023) Bar Mitzvah; aside from the obvious one, summer is the best time to tackle such a project.

I am happy to report that once I pull the trigger on the logo I’ve created, all I will have to do is add some photos from this year.

Now, I have spent the past month religiously working on the layout, music, editing, transitions, etc. and I must say, I did another fantastic job. Naturally I double checked how I did the girls’ video and while that was well done (IMO), this one is slightly better.

Now I just need to find a DJ to play it.

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Oh, And BTW…

Exhibit: A

Exhibit: I REST MY F. CASE!
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