Every year I am so delighted to see that my best friends still understand these 5 truths:
1. I hate the phone.
2. This obviously still applies on my birthday.
3. You better call me on my birthday.
4. I will not pick up.
5. But I will notice.
Let it be written.
If you have people in your life who understand and play by these completely absurd rules without being told, you are one lucky bitch.
Feeling super grateful as I enter this 36th year– amazing husband who swooped in to do emergency Boog babysitting duty because he knew I needed one last childless bday morning in a massage chair, a bun in the oven that I get to cook without actually having to learn how to cook, the whole family in for Bibby’s famous (passed down recipe, we’ll see how Mom did) matzoh ball soup, a fabulous, bell-pepper sized excuse not to have to go bread-free this Passover, calls/texts/messages from dear friends near and far– no wine, but all the love and allllllllllllllll the cake, both with and without flour (for real. We have 3 cakes. One cooked by Eric and The Boog that might or might not contain actual boogs, depending on how well Eric was supervising).
Happy Passover/Easter, friends! Love to all! Xoxoxo
(loosely related to A Tired, Dehydrated People )
The sisters Lerman know how to spend a bright, sunny Saturday.
My OB sent me to a hematologist, who I saw today, because I tested positive as a carrier of Factor 11 Deficiency, which means I could have an issue with blood clotting…
Hematologist: “So the reason we test your Factor 11 levels is because of the epidural. If you test below a certain level, it will not be safe for you to have an epidural when you give birth.”
Me: “Umm…so then what do I do?”
Hematologist: “Well. You just give birth.”
Hematologist: “That was the end of the sentence. You just give birth. But, obviously, without the epidural.”
Hematologist: “It’s perfectly fine. People give birth all the time without–”
So yeah. I imagined the birth going something like this but apparently it’s going to be more along the lines of this:
May god have mercy on all our* souls.
Eric: “So, like…what are clouds?”
Me: “I hope we see a meekrat.”
Eric: “You mean a meerkat?!”
Everyone’s Africa advice for Eric: “PLEASE do not get excited and pet the wildlife.”
Everyone’s Africa advice for me: “PLEASE do not get distracted/forget where you are/fall asleep/blog in the bush/pee on a lion’s den and get eaten by the wildlife.”
A fair assessment of both our personalities.
“I will not pet the lions. I promise. Yes, I PROMISE. I promise!”
— Eric, in the airport before flight to Africa, on the phone with his mom.
He will, though.
This happens in person too, not just text. Every time.
“Congratulations, you’re white!”
— TSA agent, thus ending my Global Entry “interview,” which lasted 10 seconds and literally consisted of me sitting down, saying “Hello,” and her responding with that one line.
(Ok, maybe it was “Congratulations, you’ve been pre-approved!” But I heard what I heard.)
“Hey, what are ya doing over there, you sexy little caterpillar.”