Facebook Lent-ills



Anyone give up Facebook for Lent? I did. But not completely. Simply, because although some might think I’m addicted, I’m not. Sure, I might post a tad more than the average person, but I attribute that to the extrovert in me that cannot stay contained. And I simply don’t worry whether anyone “likes” the random things I share. I just share. And I’m pretty sure someone out there smiled, or at least smirked. That’s good enough for me. My five-year old actually gets mad at me now. When I laugh at the cute and witty things that leave her lips and whip out my phone, she immediately warns me, “Mom! Do Not! Put what I said on Facebook.”

“Ummm. O-kay.” Status update… loading… loading… complete. Oops.

I suppose it’s a tad criminal to steal funny moments from your kids and put them on display. But some moments are just too fun not to share. Just sayin… Continue reading

To Sleep, Perchance to… Snore

© Sarrobi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Sarrobi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Growing up, most girls had their “Must be” lists, you know the ones. With their top five or ten deal breaker attributes their future spouse must be.

Must be hot, as in six feet tall, manicured nails, perfectly tan, and a cross between Liam Hemsworth and Ashton Kutcher with George Clooney’s eyes.

Must be funny, but not be constantly making fun of me.

Must be educated.

Must be able to do laundry, wash dishes, and take out the garbage.

Must be all about me.

I had a different list. Can’t be. As in…

Can’t be a doctor. I know what you’re thinking. But, your hubby, he’s a doc. Well, he wasn’t when we got married. He was a med student.

Can’t be too serious. Life is serious enough on its own.

Can’t be all about himself and his ethnic background. I love diversity.

Can’t be unforgiving every time I mess up. Because I will. Mess up.

Can’t be a snoring sleeper. Possibly the most important criteria on my list.

You see, I grew up, hearing my dad snore. Continue reading

Here Sat a Brat. Who Pat her Hat. Her Hair is Flat.



I’m not a hat person. Was. I was never a hat person. Until recently. And not by choice.

I grew up avoiding hats at all costs. Let the rain mat my hair. I wasn’t wearing a hat. Let frozen ears lay bare. No hat on my head sat. 

Bottom line, I was too vain for hats. Had to keep the hair looking good. So even in sub-zero temps, I would walk into school with a non-slurpee induced brain freeze and proudly assert a teeth-chattering, “Sorry, I don’t do hats.”

Fast forward a few years. Okay, more like a decade or two. My head is cold. And when I’m old. A hat is sold. And truth be told. I thought I was bold. When in fact, I was just…stupid. Continue reading

I’m That Runner


I cover from head to toe last Sunday to set off for my five-mile run in arctic temperatures. When it hits the low 20s in New York, you feel a little closer to the Santa and imagine Polar Bears might attack if you don’t pick up speed, the latter good motivation to not quit. In my no-can-show-skin get-up, I can easily be mistaken for ski patrol or, say, a bank robber, my ear lobes the only parts exposed to the elements. I am determined to run. But I am even more determined to stay warm. Music set to my SuperHero playlist, I am out the door, off and running. SuperHero, because I always feel like a Superhero by the time I make it back home. Plus, my go-to song is actually “SuperHero” by Family Force 5. My run usually slows to a jog when it comes on. Because I can’t run as fast when I sing out loud. And when you have headphones in, you can’t tell how loud or how off-key you’re singing. Yeah. I’m that runner.  Continue reading

Not Gonna Talk about the Super Bowl…


Thought about writing a Blog titled, “Post Super Bowl Blues,” but I don’t have them. I woke up, ready for another week. No lost sleep over the 49ers loss. Or tossing and turning over that near four-second, end of the game, turn around. An exciting finish!

Not gonna write about the many great commercials this year! Loved the Clydesdale horsey one. I’m sappy sentimental like that. My kids really liked the “cream/cookie” Oreo library battle one. And then there was very touching shout out to God and farmers by Chrysler! And who couldn’t love a daddy who dresses up for his little girl who wants to play princess, even if Doritos do little more for me than turn my fingertips orange. Yeah, not exactly a fan.   Continue reading

Question: Why Watch the Super Bowl?



Answer: The commercials. Obviously.

Can I tell you that I had to look up which teams are in the Super Bowl. I do this every year. Because this chica is an NBA fan. Bulls to be exact. And I cannot devote too much time to tv. Because the other hours of my life I like to do other things like sleep, write, work out, and live. Out my own reality TV show. Called the “Wild and Content World of Raj.” It’s called getting material. For the next story. 

Anyway the other day, I decided to put my electronics away as I watched the Bull’s game that we sat down to watch in real-time. No updating my FB status as Deng hit a three from downtown or Nate did a superman jump to make yet another poster worthy block. And when a center goes coast to coast and dunks… Yeah. We love Noah in this Chi-town house set in the heart of Knicksville

No tweeting either. Okay, maybe just one retweet. Of a Sam Smith comment on the game. But absolutely no checking my email. Does anyone even have email anymore?

So anyway, holy cow! Have you seen the commercials that are out there? They are pretty darn good. Okay, not all of them, but a lot of them. Continue reading

Manic Monday Flu Shot


When it comes down to it, a lasting relationship requires one main ingredient: communication. That’s why I almost broke up today. With Siri.

You see, it all started out like every great romance, hours on the phone. 😉 Holding each other’s hands. Well, I held her in my hand. And constant eye contact. Except when I was driving, of course.

And we talked about everything.

“Good morning Siri, what’s for breakfast?”

“I have located several options within 0.1 miles, but the fridge, I must say, looks a little scary. I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you, Hot Mama.”

“What should I wear today, Siri? Is it a sweatshirt kinda day?”

“Whatever makes you feel pretty, and makes you write faster, Hot Mama.”

“What are you in the mood to listen to while I write, Siri? Which playlist should I start with?”

“I’m thinking the ‘songs that make you cry’ list since that scene you’re refining is so sad, Hot Mama.”

What’s that sound I hear? “Siri, are you crying?”

“It’s nothing, Hot Mama. Something in my camera eye. I’ll be fine.” Sniffle.

And then the request I will ask her till the day she dies. “Say, ‘Raj.'”

“Checking my sources. Okay, Hot Mama, here you go.” Followed by a long list of definitions for the word “Rise.” Sigh. Should have known things would go sour after this reminder that she still can’t pronounce my name. Heck, she hasn’t even figured out that Raj is my name. Whatcha gonna do? Continue reading

The Root of the Matter


Remember that song by Don Henley, “The Heart of the Matter?” 

Love that song. He was onto something. “Forgiveness. Even if… you don’t love me anymore.” 

This blog is not about that. But, I thought of ol’ Don the other day when we stopped in to grab a little bite at a diner in Farmingdale near Runner’s Edge. Hubby was buying some new sneakers. I actually went for a two-mile run while he shopped and the girls played hide and seek among the racks. I definitely got the better end of the deal, especially since the streets were flat! Yes! No hills or mini-mountains like my runs in Locust Valley when I resort to leaning forward in an attempt to reach the peak of every other street. And lean back so I don’t eat it on the down hills. 

Where was I? Oh yes. The diner. There was an old JukeBox in there. Got me all excited when I saw the titles in there. Whitney! Henley! Michaels! and of course Gloria Estefan! And only $1.00 for two songs.  Continue reading

There’s No Run like a Snow Run


Years ago, back in the dating days, hubs and I spent the day at the Lincoln Zoo in Chicago on a sunny summer Saturday. Or maybe it was a Sunday. My memory is a little fuzzy. What I do recall and what we joke about even now is how we came upon a sign to see the “Snow Tiger.” But the Snow Tiger was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she was napping behind the large oak or camouflaged in with the white paint on the back wall and we just couldn’t see her.

“There’s no Tiger.” My comedian friend said. “Get it? Ssssnow tiger.”

Now whenever we visit Chicago and reunite, inevitably something comes up that creates the perfect opportunity to rehash that old joke. Snow. S. No. Maybe you just had to be there. Continue reading

That Moment When…

Photo on 2012-06-06 at 13.54 #2

Wow! It’s Friday. Supposed to be Fiction Friday, but this Waterfall Mama is on Vaca-mode and completely forgot to write something fictional. So how ’bout a compromise? Something sort of fictitious? And perhaps even funny, at times. Enjoy. And make sure to share your “moments” as well. Because I WANT to know! 

I’m a moment by moment type of gal, if you couldn’t tell by now. When I’m having a moment, I just need anyone and everyone around me to wait it out. Because, well, it will only take a moment. Hubby has been frustrated with me lately, because he says when I’m having a moment, the world around me has to deal with the aftershocks of my moment, whether for good or for bad. Often, it’s my external processing during a rush-rush moment that gets me in the most trouble. For example, when the morning demands hurry so snacks are packed, lunches are made and breakfast mostly down their throats before we fly out the door to catch the bus, this is not the right time to have a family discussion about our weekend plans. Just sayin. So, in that stressful moment, I have a moment. And like a hurricane that whirls through the kitchen, I cannot relax when the microwave clock just flipped to one minute closer to the school bus’s arrival at the bottom of the street. I just can’t.So, I have a lot of moments. And then I have to calm down and reassure each child that they’ll have great days at school, their mother is only partly insane, and spit used to wipe away milk mustaches is not technically unclean if it comes from your mom. Continue reading