Breakfast In Space

The space was actually our living room in Denver (where I"ll be hanging until my medical stuff gets sorted out) but we DID have a real, live ASTRONAUT c/o Four. Actually, he's not an astronaut yet, but he's got a pretty good chance of it -- at least one in a hundred, which is a million times better than one in a hundred million, like the rest of us.

Luckily, the ASTRONAUT didn't have to rely on his space skills to enjoy an out of this world brunch, created by Four and Brother S (whose chosen nick name, while apt, might seem inappropriate in this context, so we'll just call him Brother S).

So Brother S made two ENORMOUS loaves of challah -- probably four pounds each. Four proceeded to stuff them with all kinds of delights, coat them in eggs and cook them to perfection.  Our stuffed french toast was accompanied by the fluffiest of whipped creams: the first whipping wasn't adequate, so Four went back to whip them 'til it behaved.  (If we're lucky, four might share the recipe on Thursday!)

Finally, Brothers Z and S brueled grapefruit which I didn't eat, but had rave reviews by all diners present.

The total of these parts was an other worldly experience of pure, culinary pleasure.  

For your consideration...

It's award season, and the Princess is hoping to ride the royal coattails of The King's Speech to a dark horse victory in the little-known categories of Best Live Action Short Starring a Dirty-faced Toddler and Best Actress/Composer/Librettist in an Operatic Comedy.

SIX!

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

-Rita Rudner

Happy Anniversary, Mr. One!

Thanks for making me happy, keeping me sane and inspiring me every single day. I'd say I couldn't possibly love you more, but that's what I thought six years ago.

Sweepstakes Fail (or maybe win?)

*actual mailer received by the TD family 

Ask 5

I'm a major fan of the Social Q's column in the New York Times. It's a little bit like "Dear Abby", but much funnier. The thing that sets it apart from most advice columns is that the author, Phillip Galanes, tends to write trite, sarcastic, and *sometimes* downright snarky replies instead of the overly courteous responses that most have come to expect from such columns. Social Q's was part of the impetus behind Five's decision to start its very own question section. That's right. Now, whenever you encounter a sticky situation that makes you question everything you thought you knew, just send us an email (at fivetdsisters@gmail.com) with the deets. We will post your questions with FIVE different perspectives on the matter!

In the interest of full disclosure:

1.The views expressed in answers will be those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the greater TD clan (I was coerced into writing that).

2. We promise not to be quite as cutting as Social Q's Phillip Galanes.

3. We promise that some of the advice will be way off base. But between 5 different--relatively well adjusted ladies--we promise you can expect to get something helpful from at least one of us...Right guys?

4. We promise to accept questions about children, dating, decorating, dogs, fashion, finances, food, health, nutrition, travel and what to do about awkward hugs from unwanted sources. We may not be experts, but that doesn't mean we won't have opinions!

5. Finally, we promise that Five's "Q's" will be highly entertaining...at least some of the time :)

Below are a two of my favorite social dilemmas from the past few of weeks. Enjoy!

*note: In the interest of concision, I've edited them down a little.

Boys in Tresses

We are Jewish but not religious. We have a 2-year-old son whose hair we are not going to cut until he is 3, which is traditional among very religious Jews. Strangers in restaurants often mistake him for a girl. Should we correct them?

S. M.

You’ve thoroughly confused me on the religion front...but to answer your question, don't correct them. We don’t really care whether Goldilocks is a boy or a girl, as long as his screaming doesn’t ruin our dinner.

A Gift, Not My Idea 
My sister is generous and loves giving gifts for every occasion: babies, birthdays, engagements. She asks all of us, her siblings, to contribute a certain amount; and if we feel it’s too steep, she tells us to contribute what we like, and she’ll cover the difference. I think this is a tremendous imposition. Any ideas?
Anonymous


Let me get this straight: Your sister shops for all the gifts and pays for them, and you feel put upon? Here’s an idea: Send her to my house.
Still, you make a fair point: whether and how to gift is your prerogative. So, if you don’t like this communal arrangement, try, “I appreciate all your shopping, Sis, but I’m going to start doing it for myself.”
Be careful, though. As Joni Mitchell sang (about paradise and parking lots): Sometimes, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
 *questions and answers courtesy of Phillip Galanes at the NYT 

Lovenapped!

Dr. P was on call on Valentines day, and as one who isn't all that fond of the day to begin with, I was more than happy to volunteer to babysit so Mr. and Mrs. One could have a much needed romantic night out.

But lucky me, Dr. P really enjoys opportunities to demonstrate his love for me! (barf, I know :-) He took me captive and carried (or bussed) me across state lines to go see Iphigénie en Tauride live at the Met in New York! It was so sweet and so unexpected for sooo many reasons including (but not limited to)

1) I love Opera, but for Dr. P it's something of a snooze (quite literally actually)
2) It's very hard to keep secrets from me (I snoop!)
3) He was indulging one of my long-standing celebrity crushes, namely Plácido Domingo.
(His voice turns my spine to jelly)

I feel so loved, and I know just how I'm going to show Dr. P how much I loved it. Next time he wants to watch football, I'm going to sit down, shut up, and order the pizza.

The beautiful light fixtures at Lincoln Center

Me: Reveling in the wonder of Plácido Domingo's voice
Dr. P: Waking from a lovely nap

Never out of the woods

There is this romanticized concept of getting "out of the woods." We wander, we work, we try for a time and then we will be rewarded for our efforts by the work ending. I thought a lung transplant was kind of like this. Once I got past the first year, I had to take my meds and avoid crowded spaces. If I did it was going to be smooth sailing -- at least for a while. But life just isn't that simple. Just because we do one thing well or get through one challenging situation doesn't mean that we're off the hook. It doesn't mean that the work ends or that there won't be other challenges.

What I have found is how much lighter those challenges are made by having friends and family who support you through the rough spots. Y and I came to Cleveland expecting a clean bill of health and were given something else. I was angry. I feel like I've done my time and I was looking forward to doing some more pleasant time in the coming years. But even pleasant years have challenges -- be they dirty diapers, difficult husbands, challenging social lives, etc. We all have a cross to bear and this whole health thing seems to be mine.

While I might not be "out of the woods," there is more beauty and love inside of them than I could have ever anticipated.