Sunday, May 30, 2004

In Memoriam

We take it for granted, this life we live and all the people in it. We say we don't, or we won't, but it's human nature. At night when we go to bed we fully expect our worlds to be the same when we wake up, for all the people we hold dear to still inhabit it, for the person sleeping next to us to be there still, for the day to go on as planned, for life to go on. People die, though, and sometimes much too young. Three years ago at just about this time of day I sat in a hospital room with my hands on my stepmother -- I had staked out a piece of her left leg. My two stepsisters, stepbrother, father, and her sister all were there, each with his or her own piece of body, each holding on and letting go simultaneously. She had been just a few days in a coma, and this day her breathing was starting to rattle, her lungs filling with fluid. She died at precisely the instant that the sun set behind the tall buildings on Mission Hill. It was a beautiful sunset, and I give her full credit for it still.

Today we had the girls baptised, so now it's a day for remembering birth and death, coming out and going in, water and fire. I'm guilty much of the time of taking my life, my family, my incredible gifts for granted.

Kiss your people tonight before you go to bed and thank God or the universe or whomever you choose, but give thanks for them. Life is short, and precious.

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Brain Dead

Most people stumble on my site by accident after doing a search on "life in a big city" or "big city life," and are undoubtedly sorely disappointed. Nine times out of ten it is someone from Thailand or Singapore who doesn't really get the witty and sardonic* nature of my blog title. I always feel a little bad for those people. Which is why I was so pleased to welcome the "frizzy jewish hair" search last year, and today I welcome "lobotomy complaints and worries" -- you, my friend, have far more to worry about than I do.

Of course, those of you looking for a naked Sarah Kozer need to GET A FUCKING LIFE. She's not even that hot.



Lyrics are a cop-out, but I'm tired and overworked, and it WAS Bob's birthday and the war has me down. So. This generation needs a Bob Dylan but we don't have one.

I want to tell you stories, good stories, but it takes time to tell a story and I'm feeling awfully short on time. We're all just muddling through. Jack graduated kindergarden (cap and gown, the whole nine yards). Very cute. The girls are geting baptised (s or z?) on Sunday. His mom, my dad, his grandmothers will be in attendance, plus a motley crew of godparents. It's getting hot in Texas. We're moving soon. My sister has come and gone in a flurry of cigarettes, coffee and moving frenzy. She packed up the house for me and touched up the paint in places, showered the girls with love, talked non-stop. My sister the incessant talker. We are hoping, hoping, hoping, hoping against all hope that this place will sell. Anyone want a nice 3 bedroom in central Texas??? Call me. I'll make you a seriously sweet deal. We'll be living on the ranch full time in less than 2 weeks, with all the good and bad that that entails. I'm drowning in work and babies. And tired. Did I mention that? Is this a whiny blog? My apologies.

Monday, May 24, 2004

You Never Ask Questions When God's On Your Side

Bob is 63 today. He wrote With God On Our Side 41 years ago. Scary.

Oh my name it is nothin'
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I's taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.

Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The Indians fell
The cavalries charged
The Indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.

Oh the Spanish-American
War had its day
And the Civil War too
Was soon laid away
And the names of the heroes
I's made to memorize
With guns in their hands
And God on their side.

Oh the First World War, boys
It closed out its fate
The reason for fighting
I never got straight
But I learned to accept it
Accept it with pride
For you don't count the dead
When God's on your side.

When the Second World War
Came to an end
We forgave the Germans
And we were friends
Though they murdered six million
In the ovens they fried
The Germans now too
Have God on their side.

I've learned to hate Russians
All through my whole life
If another war starts
It's them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side.

But now we got weapons
Of the chemical dust
If fire them we're forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God's on your side.

In a many dark hour
I've been thinkin' about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can't think for you
You'll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side.

So now as I'm leavin'
I'm weary as Hell
The confusion I'm feelin'
Ain't no tongue can tell
The words fill my head
And fall to the floor
If God's on our side
He'll stop the next war.

Happy Birthday, Bob.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004


10 lb 11 oz each. Lots of shots, poor things. They took it pretty well but now they're very cranky...

Happy Happy Joy Joy

I'm tired and stressed and don't feel much like writing.

Photo by Brian

It's not always this bad but I couldn't resist sharing.

Poor girls have their shots today.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

At a Loss

It's like the elephant in the middle of the room, this horror show in Iraq. On the one hand, I don't want to write about it at all, because so many others do it so much better, and this has never been a highly political blog. I don't have enough time to devote to news and research and even careful thought about it all, and without that it seems pointless to write about it publicly. On the other hand, it seems impossible to dance around it, especially now with the horrific images of torture at Abu Graib and the gruesome death of Nick Berg, all of it playing out over the internet. I feel sick, and ashamed, and horrified, and most of all helpless.

Monday, May 10, 2004


Okay, so it's a Blogger template. So sue me. One of these days I'll learn how to do it myself and make my own design, but for now I'll be lazy and take what's given to me. I wanted a cleaner look anyway. We'll see about the commenting, though. So far I'm not impressed -- it's about time that Blogger added commenting as an option, but I'm not wild about the format.

Took down most of my sidebar. It was a good place to keep a record of the movies we watch, but I'm having trouble remembering to update it as it is. We did just watch House of Sand and Fog last night, and Lost in Translation a couple of weeks ago, and something else...what was it? Brian? We saw something else that was pretty good. House of Sand and Fog had some fantastic acting but was rather routinely made. It was too perfect a rendition of the book -- the filmmaker seemed to be saying "see? see how true I am to the original?" which is all very respectful but made for a less interesting movie. It artist's stamp. Or perhaps he just didn't have anything original to add. If the shot of Jennifer Connelly at the end of the pier while the camera whirls around and around and around her head is any indication, this guy really doesn't have much to offer the world of filmmaking. We have seen that shot before, buddy. And the speeded up film of fog rolling in and fog rolling out. And the silhouette of Jennifer Connelly in the doorway. And...and...

Lost in Translation on the other hand was brilliant and delightful. Although don't let anyone tell you that Sofia Coppolla "discovered" Bill Murray's talents as a non-comedic actor. Anyone who saw Rushmore (as she must have) already knew about it.

Sunday, May 09, 2004

But I Don't Look a Day over 19

This was my card from Eli. I think it entirely speaks for itself.

Mother's Day

As mothers (and grandmothers) go, she was pretty amazing. Three years ago on Mother’s Day, Polly collapsed in her kitchen. Less than three weeks after that she was dead from a brain tumor. I’m sad that she never had a chance to meet Javier and the girls, sad that she isn’t here to talk to today. I miss her. Here she is with Jack when he was just 10 days old or so; just look at how she loved him.

I’m thinking also of my grandmothers – Grandma Lil who let me live with her for a year when I was 18 and working in Cleveland on an internship. She suffered through my late nights and drunken escapades so gracefully. She had a beautiful, enormous house in Shaker Heights full of wonderful art and lots of books (she ran a publishing company which she inherited from her parents). I’m thinking also of my mother’s mother, Bampy, who I never really felt close to. She moved to Florida when I was young and I would visit once a year. She and my grandfather would always take us to Disney World. Bampy loved watching detective shows on TV and reading sweeping historical novels. She baked fabulous cookies at Christmastime and was always working on needlepoint until her hands gave out because of the arthritis. They had a cute little house with a lanai just outside of St. Petersburg. My grandfather had an orange grove in the back. Bampy made things like Chicken A La King using the Campbell’s Soup recipe.

Thinking of my own mother, too, and wishing there was some way to let her in closer without her stepping all over me. I feel sad keeping her at arm’s length, but it’s the only way I can make it all work. I called her today and wished her a happy Mother’s Day. You should call your mom, too.

Thursday, May 06, 2004


Okay, people, since I apparently have to spell it out for you, that post below, the one with the picture of my incredibly fucking cute twin baby girls, was YOUR CUE to comment with "what incredibly fucking cute twin baby girls you have!"

So get to it!

Wednesday, May 05, 2004

Miles of Smiles

This, incidentally, is what makes it all worth it.

Saturday, May 01, 2004

Too Much Partying

This morning we were out of half and half, and since I'd rather die than drink coffee without half and half I headed out in the chilly nasty rain (in jeans and a Blogger sweatshirt! Thanks Blogger for the free clothing! I'm so glad you suckered me into spending too much money on your now free services!) to buy some. Sac and Pac was OUT of the stuff so I had to drive to the local grocery store. It's a real grocery store, not a supermarket, on a Main Street, not in a strip mall. The floors are made of wood. You can see over the tops of the shelves. And they make breakfast tacos to order. I should shop there more often because just the floor alone made me feel good and human.

But I digress.

So the guy at the counter says "you look tired, darlin'" and I say "I am tired" and he says "too much partying?" and I wanted to leap over the counter and kiss him for thinking I looked like someone with a hangover instead of some old, haggard mother of five. After a few more sweethearts and darlin's I was out of there with my $3.00 worth of half and half (I guess that's why we shop at supermarkets, huh?) and a bounce in my step. Looking hungover is SO much better than looking haggard.