Too Lazy To Write A Book

Get On My Lawn

August 27, 2020 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

For the most part, I’ve enjoyed working from home these past few months.

I do miss the camaraderie and energy of an office, especially the visceral appeal of working with a physically present team. My wife has valiantly attempted to recreate that atmosphere, primarily by hosting her constant Zoom meetings without headphones. In an aural sense, she’s brought her own office’s open floor plan into my living room, and I now know more about her co-workers than my own kids. John, if you were wondering, had a fantastic weekend.

But the warm weather has allowed me to turn my back porch into a virtual office for the summer, and it’s been a pleasant experience overall.

What’s been most surprising, however, is my discovery of this gigantic ecosystem that has lived around my house during weekday hours. There’s an entire world of creatures, cultures and processes that dominate the daylight hours from Monday-Friday of which I was entirely unaware. Some examples:

The family of deer that have decided to use my yard for a daily snack, including three young fawn that are cute enough to star in their own sitcom
The chipmunk that scurries up to my back door each day and stares at me for 15 minutes, hoping to snag a piece of my english muffin
The colorful assortment of birds that don’t seem to mind my presence, and like to greet me with a few songs that I swear sound a little like the keyboards in Gary Numan’s “Cars”
The UPS delivery worker, secretly dropping treats to all the eager dogs outside on his route
And the lawnmowers…the constant scream of lawnmowers, usually maximized right at the moment my conference call begins. Those I could do without.

All of these have represented daily checkpoints to me, a comforting routine of experiences that gives the day some structure.

But one unlikely visit has become the favorite part of my day. I truly look forward to it, and stop whatever I’m doing so I can watch the consistent-but-still-surprising action unfold.

It’s the moment each day when a young boy walks onto the middle of my yard, and watches his dog take a shit.

Quick Notes From Quarantine

May 6, 2020 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

ChefBoyardee_Ravioli_m-min

A few personal (and non-political, believe me I’ve got plenty of those) thoughts and updates on life over the last few weeks. We’re healthy and stable so far, thank goodness, but there’s always something interesting in the mundane.

I’ve been harboring a quiet little secret that even my family has yet to notice. The jeans that I’ve worn nearly every day for six weeks have developed an enormous tear that’s fraying right in the upper thigh / crotch area. It’s providing a nice cooling breeze as the weather turns warmer.

Normally I’d throw them out, but there’s something about this tear that is making me happy. Not only is the timing great (let’s be honest, you’re probably not even wearing pants as you’re reading this), but the location of is nearly perfect – it’s hidden by my legs when standing and just enough on the backside of my pants when seated.

What can I say, I just like knowing it’s there when you don’t. It’s freeing, in a way. It’s like my own private cul-de-sack (misspelling intended), and I’m not changing until I’m literally exposing myself.

Speaking of clothing, my daughter has decided to enlist me as a contestant on a daily game show she’s calling “Guess The Athleta”. Each evening, she asks me to look at my wife’s attire and determine how many pieces of Athleta brand apparel she’s wearing at any given moment.

Since our quarantine time together has begun, the correct answer has yet to be “zero”.

Colossus

February 27, 2020 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

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On a blustery summer day, as I stood somewhere between the bouncy house and the block party’s food table, a group of three young girls sheepishly approached me… but were clearly more focused on my dog Chauncey. They stood a few careful feet away, staring only slightly above eye-level at my dog, who obediently if impatiently stood by my side. After a brief conference, one emboldened girl stepped forward, a cautious advance to establish her leadership credentials. She gazed at Chauncey, her eyes a bit widened, before looking up at me.

“Excuse me sir,” she queried. “Can we pet your pony?”

——-

Chauncey was big.

He was officially a Goldendoodle by breed, a hypoallergenic cross between a Golden Retriever and a Standard Poodle that had quickly become cliched by its status as a suburban designer dog breed. Chauncey was a bit different, bred from a Standard Poodle mother and a Goldendoodle dad, which seemed to elongate his legs. The breeder online listed him as “slightly above average” in size, which would only be true if the average height of a Goldendoodle was similar to a supermodel. Before long, we began to realize that our kitchen table would peak well below our dog’s eye-line, leaving most of our meals extremely vulnerable to direct attack.

No matter. Chauncey became an instant member of the family. My kids, initially terrified of the excitable and nippy pup that we brought home one evening, soon learned to love the gentle giant that grew in its place. My daughter in particular became inseparable from her new canine companion. She wrote elementary school fables about his evening adventures working the overnight shift at Taco Bell, and painted regal portraits of his face that admired his presence and stature.

My Midlife Crisis “Solution”

February 6, 2020 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

In the spirit of over-sharing that is this website, I thought I’d post the text from a recent short “speech” I gave in front of about 100 forgiving witnesses.

It’s part of a cool new project launched by my friend Robin Weinberg, who has an Oral History Master of Arts degree from Columbia and is clearly much smarter than me. It’s called WestportVoices, and it is a collection of local community members willing to share their personal stories and spark conversations. The first theme is centered around stories of Transformation, and most of them are incredibly moving, emotional and inspiring.

My story isn’t.

But Robin thought my current personal and professional changes would make for an interesting segment, so I agreed to participate. She interviewed me (along with nine other much more compelling subjects) and posted the audio highlights online and at the Westport Library. You can visit the site here.

Robin also asked several of us to speak at a launch event at the Library last month, and I thought I’d take that opportunity to update my transformation journey. The gist: my midlife crisis has now officially expanded (mostly around my waistline). Read on, please.

The Music Mentor (Gratitude, Volume 2)

January 14, 2020 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

First, a plug…

Rather than spend my time productively (like writing for this blog, earning a more robust living, or working to convince myself that my shirt collars are tightening because of laundry shrinkage rather than neck fat), I’ve done what any sensible human being with free time and a microphone is doing in the new millennium: I’ve launched a podcast.

It’s called PAST TENS: A TOP TEN TIME MACHINE. It’s a weekly humor and commentary show that focuses on music nostalgia. My co-host David Yas and I travel back in time, to a week sometime between 1964-2000, and revisit the top ten songs featured on that week’s Billboard Hot 100 singles chart. We break down each individual song, sharing some fascinating facts and trivia on the way, and decide whether the song holds up well over time…or, as in many cases, doesn’t.

I’ve always been addicted to pop music, and when I arrived in college I found a kindred spirit in Dave. Now, almost 30 years later, we’ve developed a great outlet to wax poetic about one of our true passions, and foisted it upon the world for better or worse. On PAST TENS, we’re opinionated, maybe a little crass at times, but listeners have told us that they love the nostalgic journey and the humor and energy that we bring to each week’s countdown. You may not agree with everything we offer, but the trip always brings some nostalgia emotion back to the surface. Give it a listen, I promise that it’s worth a try. You can check out all of our episodes to date on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, the Adori interactive app, or by liking our Facebook page for updates on new episodes.

But spending so much time running through old songs over the last few months has put me in a reflective mood. So go through an exercise with me for a moment, and allow me to ask you a few introspective, perhaps intrusive questions:

What is your greatest interest or passion? I don’t mean the people you’d thank in your Oscar speech (congratulations, by the way, on your richly deserved honor), but rather the hobby or subject that you love thinking about/talking about/reading about the most?
Can you remember the person most responsible for triggering that interest in you?

And, since I’ve been thinking about gratitude a bit lately:

Have you thanked that person for sparking one of your life’s passions?

The NICU Nurse (Gratitude, Volume 1)

April 5, 2019 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

I recently attended a workshop that focused partly on the concept of gratitude. If the sound of that already makes you want to vomit, I hear you. When I saw the item on the agenda, I groaned so loud that I had to apologize to the person sitting next to me.

But something got to me that day, and now I’m here, typing an essay with “Gratitude” in the heading. Because I’m either ignorant or possibly a narcissistic jerk, I haven’t properly thanked the people who have stepped up for me over the years.

Of course, my wife, kids and parents are at the top of that list. But they know how I feel (I hope), and no one wants to read about how much I appreciate the fact that my wife doesn’t kill me when I forget to take the garbage out. Which happens weekly, by the way, including this morning.

So, I decided that from time to time, I’d write some stories of thanks, post them here, and (when possible) reach out to the subjects to make sure they see it. Thanks for indulging me (see, this gratitude thing is working out already!).

—

“Follow me to see your babies.”

The nurse stood in the doorway of the operating room, pointing towards the exit. I looked to my wife, sweaty and exhausted after just delivering twins. She gave me a nod of approval, so I kissed her on the forehead, told her I loved her and followed the nurse out the door. Continue reading

My New Story Published On Fatherly

November 14, 2018 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

Fatherlylogo Every now and then, I get asked to write a piece to appear somewhere other than this homegrown and provincial blog of mine. So I hope you don’t mind if I let you all know when I do have something published elsewhere.

Like right now!

The fine folks at Fatherly, the leading digital media brand for dads, have published a couple of my pieces now, including this new one. It’s about how excited I was to pass on my passion for sports (especially my beloved New York Yankees) to my eager and fawning children. Needless to say, things didn’t work out quite as I had planned. And maybe that’s for the best.

Click here to read the story. Hope you enjoy it! I love your feedback, so feel free to write me at michael@toolazytowriteabook.com for your thoughts.

New essay to be published here soon!

My Jewish Food Rankings – The Ones I “Missed”

October 4, 2018 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

satofdavidpie Here’s a news flash for you: if the response to my last post is any indication, it turns out that Jews love to argue about food (among other things).

When I set out to write My Definitive And Absolutely Correct Ranking Of 40 Jewish Foods, I was really just working out my own inner feelings about my “native” cuisine. Instead, and through no fault of my own (or entirely my fault, depending on your stance on sour fish), I unleashed a Hebrew hurricane.

The story spread quickly beyond my small fan base of family members and fake Twitter followers from Russia to a much larger community of whitefish lovers and kasha defenders. True, most people seemed to find my descriptions both humorous and nostalgic, but many took great umbrage with the rankings themselves. The most common criticisms:

I ranked chopped liver way too high
I ranked chopped liver way too low
I ranked gefilte fish way too high
I ranked gefilte fish way too low

So now I’m confused.

Others were too. Steve Benowitz wrote:

Undercooked chicken? Who ever heard of a Jewish mother (or, g-d forbid, your bubbe) undercooking anything? They all learned to cook practicing on brisket, which is always overcooked.

Many wrote in about their own versions of specific recipes (sorry, none of them will make me eat pickled herring). Some added interesting ingredients, like Barbara Lee Silverman’s secret potato pancake addition:

As for the latke, pre-Cuisinart, a little blood from the four-sided grater never killed anyone!

In related news, I’ve cancelled my Passover plans at Barbara’s house.

My Definitive And Absolutely Correct Ranking Of 40 Jewish Foods

September 13, 2018 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

hamantaschen A confession: I’ve always had mixed feelings about the food of my tribe. As a child, I watched my Italian friends dine on deep dishes of all the things I deemed essential to a well-lived life: pasta, cheese, cured meats, and drool-inducing combinations of all three. As for me, I suffered through Jewish holiday meals filled with a mix of foods that could be best described as “interesting”. How did my ancestors get it so wrong?

But perhaps my tastes have changed. Sitting around the Rosh Hashanah dinner table this week, I realized that I needed to do a reassessment of sorts. So I sat down to consider all of the foods I deemed a part of a typical modern Jew’s culinary template. Turns out I’ve underestimated our contribution to the epicurean world. Then again, to be completely honest, some of our food continues to be just plain nasty.

So here goes, my personal ranking of Jewish foods, from worst to first. Keep in mind two things:

Taste is always subjective, your own experience and palate may be completely different from mine, I’m sure your bubbe made a fantastic version of this, and I completely respect your opinion.
You’re wrong and I’m right.

40) PICKLED HERRING IN SOUR CREAM

Read those words again, slowly. Now look at the image. It sounds awful from the get-go and looks even worse. As for the taste…I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would eat this. A white, gloopy pile of mush, with the added bonus of a fishy aftertaste that won’t leave your mouth for a week. Should be served only as a punishment. Just the worst.

39) KISHKE

kishke

What Jews apparently invented when they couldn’t figure out how to make an Italian sausage. You think it’s meat, but it’s really some kind of weird stuffing soaked in fat and stuffed into an intestine. Whether it’s called Kishke or Stuffed Derma (we really could use a branding expert with some of our food names), I don’t get it. Continue reading

Uncommon Ground

July 6, 2018 / michael@toolazytowriteabook.com / 0 Comments

“I hate you, Dad.”

I’ve heard this line more than a few times over the last few years, typically directed at me by my teenage son and most often followed by a dramatic exiting of the room and a house-rocking door slam.

But this time, just before the departure/door amplification crescendo, my son turned around to add an impromptu verbal coda:

“Oh, and by the way, when I apologize tomorrow and tell you that I love you, I want you to know that I’m lying.”

In a way, I kind of admired him for that line. In the inevitable power-grab of parent/child relationships, that statement effectively put our status into a Matrix-like vortex, with its “what is real and what is an illusion?” framework keeping things in doubt at all times. Clever boy, that one.

(Side note: I know that even the possibility of discussing the complications of one’s parenting journey is hair-raising, and that some of you may be shocked that I’d express any concerns at all. Rest assured that I love my son, I’d do anything for him, etc etc. But if any of you think of fatherhood as a non-stop blissfest that provides nothing but constant joy and happiness while love bunnies float magically in the air sprinkling candy dust on your eternally happy children…well, good for you. Call me the first time your teenager tells you to fuck off.)

I’d like to say that every one of our disagreements/arguments/apocalyptic meltdowns are my son’s fault.

I’d like to say that, so I will. They’re all his fault. Glad that’s settled.

But really, I know there are more complicated factors at play. I may not always show the most self-control in those moments (I can actually visualize my wife spitting up her protein shake as she reads this). My choices to elevate a conflict to “make a point” are well known in my domicile. My wife has read every parenting book ever published in the US (and Canada), and has heeded advice from every single one of them. But the chapters on “Choose Your Battles” and “Be The Adult In The Relationship” seemed to slip through my limited cognitive abilities.

So yeah, some of this may be on me too.