The Big O

When I was in elementary school, I got hooked on General Hospital; this is what happens when you have a sister who is 9 years older than you. Most days, I would make it a point to be at home by 3 pm to watch the dramas of the doctors and residents of Port Charles.

In the spring and summer of 1986, ABC started running promos for a new show. A woman sat in a large wing-back chair, wearing a satin blouse that tied at the neck and told potential viewers about her upcoming show. My memory is fuzzy on the specifics, but her message went something like this, "Hi! My name is Oprah Winfrey, and starting this fall, I'll be hosting a daytime talk show. I sure hope you'll tune in."

Oh my Oprah, did we tune in. I've watched sporadically over the years(although recently I'll admit to a near daily habit), read the books and read O Magazine (thanks Mom!). I've learned about how to live in the moment, and more than I ever wanted to know about poop (thanks Dr Oz). I laughed, I cried (it was better than Cats!) and wept some more on Friday when the queen of talk herself got teary as she told us that she would be finishing her show in 2011. It's the end of an era.

I know, I know, she'll still be here, doing other things. But internet, do you know what this means? I only have 18 months to get to Chicago!

Monkey Brain

Most of my husband’s ancestors perished in the Holocaust; his grandparents were each the only surviving members of their family. My family history, or what I know of it, is a Nazi’s eugenic dream: protestant, corn fed blue-eyed blonds from Sweden, Germany and the UK.

My aunt recently made a photo book of my paternal family history, rich with stories about the first president of Michigan University, and my great-grandmother, brave enough to risk God knows what to dress up like a boy to be with her husband on a field visit to Syria at the beginning of the 20th century. It makes me sad to know that Josh (and our children) does not have as much of a reach back into his past because much of it was snuffed out by a megalomaniac sociopath intent on wiping out a group of people simply because they existed.

It brings me much pleasure to think of my boy, my ginger-blond boy with deep blue eyes, ski jump nose and 50 percent Ashkenazi Jew blood as a big fuck you to Adolf Hitler. I’m so happy to be expecting another child who would make the Fuhrer roll over in his grave.

Monkey Brain

I just read about Knut the German polar bear, and how he got smacked by his first encounter with another polar bear, a girl! According to the zookeeper, “It was as we expected it to be. Knut was very shy and the Munich bear was clearly the one wearing the dirndl.” Dirndl?! What the heck-a-dee-doodle is that? At first I thought it meant pants, as in “Well, we know who wears the dirndl in that family.” Silly Monkey Brain, sexism is so last season. Evidently, a Dirndl is a “maid’s dress.” I love it! You go girl (polar bear)!

Monkey Brain

Am I the only sucker for any product that starts with the word "Artisanal"? It just makes anything sound special and schmancy pants. Artisanal cheeses, chocolates, soaps have us all paying a bit more, even in these economic times.

"I'll have the Artisanal toe jam, please." What? It's locally grown.

Monkey Brain

You know what's a funny word? "Hoobastank." I dare you to say it and not smile.