Life is the Flower for Which Love is the Honey -Victor Hugo

Background 

1. Jews eat honey cake on Rosh Hashanah (New Year)
2. Jewish New Year season is now
3. My book editors said not to use numbers unless the sequence is important, but I am having trouble breaking the habit

Honey Cake
I use my oldest cookbook which I think was written before I was even born called Second Helpings. Second Helpings gives vague cooking suggestions. For example, a casserole recipe might be something like: brown the onion, add the beef, cook till done, put in oven, warm when your husband gets home from his long day at the office.
I like the recipes because I find them forgiving, in other words you don't have to be exact (although possibly you may need a husband so please govern yourselves accordingly)
The honey cake recipe is simple and then it says, pour into 10 inch tube pan, which in my mind was a loaf pan although the two are not the same at all.
I pour the batter into a loaf pan.
There is too much batter so I pour it into a second loaf pan.
There is not enough batter to properly bake in second pan.
I am annoyed with Second Helpings until I realize that I mis-read the instructions and anyway I don't have a 10in tube pan.
I do however have two smaller tube pans that may have been Jell-O molds in a former life if you can picture what I'm talking about.
They are either  inherited from my great-grandmother or snagged at a Minnesotan garage sale (?)
Pour batter from loaf pans into Jell-O pans and put in oven.
Wash non-performing loaf pans by hand because dishwasher is still broken.
While drying pans notice burning smell coming from oven.
One of the Jell-O molds has a hairline fracture which is causing honey cake batter to drip out ever so slowly and form smaller-than-a-dime sized burning droplets on the bottom of the oven.
This is not good.
Re-take out re-washed loaf pan that a minute ago was looking insufficient but now is the answer to all my hopes and dreams.
Honey cake has already started to bake around the edges of the fractured Jell-O pan however I believe it is too risky to leave cake in there and wrapping it in tin foil I think will even form a greater mess.
Re-pour batter into loaf pan.
Now have one honey cake baking in Jell-O pan and one in loaf pan.
House smells divine, take cakes out of oven, leave them to cool.
Take sharp knife around edges of Jell-O pan to loosen cake, flip on to plate and -
Honey cake completely disintegrates. Part sticks to pan. Part crumbles. Part falls onto plate.
It looks like it has been baked by a swarm of bees with too much time on their hands and absolutely no expertise in the kitchen.

What Happens Next
I take a pic of the sad, broken honey cake and post it online. I wrap the good honey cake and put in freezer.
I re-wash the pans.
14 year old daughter T is leaving to basketball tournament in the US and asks if she can pack the "cake" up for car snacks. Seems like a happy ending for this pile of crumbs. Sure.

And Also
A few days later I get a message from a Mom that I like but I don't know that well.
She says that she really appreciated me posting a pic of my pathetic cake. She says that they were having a rough holiday season over at hers, and when she saw my cake falling apart she felt a little less alone. She felt like she could get through the holidays without everything being so picture perfect. She said my poor little disintegrated honey cake gave her hope.

What Went Through My Mind

1. I feel like holiday happiness is a lot of pressure to put on one little honey cake so I'm glad mine came through
2. I thought it was interesting and brave of this Mom to reach out to me and thank me for being a failure in the kitchen being honest about how the, er, cake was crumbling over here
3. All she saw was the finished, messy product, she didn't know (until now, if she's reading this) that it had actually been a more complex and difficult process involving fractured pans, a broken dishwasher and the smell of burning honey coming from my oven. 
4. So, it was even worse than I had let on, and the disintegrated finished honey cake was actually the least of it.
5. Which is something I think we should all keep in mind when watching each other's social media. Sure, it's true, but there may be more to the story.
6. And also when someone does something that helps or inspires you, reach out to them. It makes everyone's New Year a little sweeter

Best wishes to you and your families from me and mine.

Timing Part Two

Amy we could have used you this weekend. You gotta hear what happened.

We were at a five star hotel, you know, known for its white glove service.

There for a conference. Very hectic, morning till night, no time to breathe.

Come back to the room during a break and there are five guys in our room. Standing in the shower.

(Let me pause here and give you a chance to do what you will with that visual)

And there's sewage backing up, into the shower, and the guys with white gloves are trying to clean it up.

(Ew. and Oh.)

Smell in the room was kinda moldy, not as bad as you would think, so we just stayed there for the rest of the conference figuring something would automatically be taken off our bill.

It was not.

We paid the bill, but it's been bugging us ever since. This is a top, top, top tier hotel. How could they leave us to deal with a sewage back up and not offering any compensation.

They didn't offer anything? At all?

Well, they offered us to pack up all our stuff and move us to another room. But I didn't want those guys pawing through my delicates. 

(I hear you. Especially after they were pawing through less-than-delicates in the shower.)

Is it too late to do anything about this?

It's not too late at all. You can absolutely send an email explaining what happened and enclose a copy of your bill.

What Should Email Say:

1. I would start off by saying that you are loyal customers of this upscale hotel chain and that you always stay there when you can. You were thrilled to be able to benefit from their service when you agreed to attend this conference.

2. The conference was jam packed and there  was barely any time to breathe. One afternoon you ran up to your room to change and to your shock and surprise there were five guys in your shower fighting with raw sewage.

3. They offered to pack you up and move you but you had no time to think or consider this offer because you had to be back downstairs in fifteen minutes.

4. Also because no one had called/texted/alerted you in any way about the sewage issue, you were very much caught off guard and could not make a snap decision regarding your belongings.

5. In retrospect, you very much wish you had taken them up on their offer because your last night (or two) in the hotel were frankly a little gross.

6. Therefore, you are enclosing your hotel bill and you would like the last night or two taken off as if you would have had a chance to change rooms.

Comparison To Previous Example

• Both are first class and therefore you expect a high level of service from both.
• Composed salad didn't attempt to mitigate damage. White glove shower did, but you said no.
• In both cases you were disappointed with the service, you didn't react at the time, you have some remorse and you would like to know if it's too late to complain effectively

Bottom line
Hotels are more expensive than composed salad (in most cases) and therefore it is understandable that you would feel regretful weeks after the fact. Also sewage is more egregious than grapefruit (in most cases) so the margin for compromise is narrower.

 

Timing Part One

Out for white linen napkin dinner with one of my Fave people.

Fave wants the composed salad but one of the items in the composition is grapefruit. (She has an aversion to grapefruit and a general dislike for all things citrus.)

Fave asks waiter if can substitute something else for the grapefruit.

Waiter says No.

Fave asks waiter if can remove grapefruit from the plate so doesn't have to deal with leaky citrus juices, also smell turns her off and does not want to have to look at pink fleshy fruit.

Waiter says No.

(Hmmmm. I'm wondering if we were Wall Street Men or Expense Account Men, or anything else man-oriented, we might receive a different response.)

Fave shrugs and orders composed salad anyway. I ask if she wants me to get involved. She says no.

As evening wears on, can't help but notice people on my left and on my right eating things that were not on the menu. Also can't help but notice the wide variety of fruits and vegetables in dishes all over the restaurant so why was Waiter so committed to grapefruit. It seems like he could have asked the kitchen to cut a tomato in four considering dinner is costing more than my first car.

Rest of dinner is delightful and as far as I know, grapefruit incident is forgotten.

Except.

About six weeks later, I'm out with Fave and she tells me that she is still thinking about the grapefruit and why it had to appear on her plate. There were all kinds of vegetables on the menu, why couldn't the Waiter ask the kitchen to cut a tomato in four instead especially since dinner cost more than her first apartment.

Is it too late to do anything about it? She asks.

Issues to Consider:
1. On the one hand it's never too late to complain effectively, on the other hand it is kind of too late to complain about a salad that you ordered six weeks earlier.

2. If this is really bothering you, and you still have your receipt, you can write to the restaurant saying  that this has been on your mind for a while, and that you know you should have spoken up at the time, but you were shy/embarrassed/unclear on what to say, and now you would like to have the salad taken off your bill. I think it's a long shot, but I guess you won't know unless you try.

3. If you go back to the restaurant, you can raise your concern at the beginning of the meal with something like: Hey, the other day when I was here, we ordered the blah blah salad and I wanted it without grapefruit. Can you do that for me this time?

4. If you go back to the restaurant and it's very obvious who the manager is, you can say something to her/him like: Thank you so much the service was fantastic this time. I thought you might want to know that last time we were here, we wanted our composed salad no grapefruit and the Waiter gave us a really hard time. It was so unlike the service we normally receive here. (Although this will not change the outcome for you or your composed, it may bring this matter to the manager's attention for the future.)

Listen to me. 
This is why you need to speak up and ask for a correction when something happens. Because if you don't, the incident can grow and grow in your mind until quartered grapefruit turns into a metaphor for your nasty third grade gym teacher and/or your smelly first boss or anything that has ever gone wrong in your life. Speaking up might work, it might not work but at least you will have tried your best and you can move on.

Also.
This issue is covered in extensive detail in Chapter 8 of my new book: "How to Report a Rhyming Physician or Other Health-Care Professional: Consider Your Timing". (Spoiler alert: the rhyming physician does not order grapefruit.)

How To Tell Someone Their Fly Is Undone

Background: Someone I love and cherish has recently come into a managerial position in a retail establishment. One of the employees has a fly that is perpetually undone. Cherish has no idea how to communicate this message and has retained my assistance.

My Advice: Say to the guy Hey your fly is undone.

Resistance #1: I'm not sure if his fly is undone or if there is something wrong with his zipper.

My Response: Uh, ok well you're the one asking me for advice. You said fly undone, I gave you fly undone. If something is wrong with his zipper, perhaps try Hey I think there's something wrong with your zipper, it looks like your fly is undone.

Alternate Response to Resistance #1: I don't think it matters. If you say Hey, your fly is undone and it's actually his zipper, he may counter with Oh, it's actually my zipper, or he may just take care of it without an explanation.

Resistance #2: I don't want to say anything to him when we're alone in the store. I'm a woman and he might think it's creepy.

Response to Resistance #2: Wait till you're not alone in the store. Then say to him Hey, your fly's undone or it may be that something is wrong with your zipper

Resistance #3: I don't want him to think I'm looking at his zipper and if I say something to him, it might be uncomfortable.

Possible Response #1 to Resistance #3: You're right, it is kind of uncomfortable. But it's even more uncomfortable for the customers. If you don't take care of this, customers may be creeped out and leave the store and then you will lose sales because you are unable to tell an employee his fly is undone.

Possible R#2 to R#3: He stands to lose much more than you do. If you don't tell him, he will be walking around at half-mast all day. Just look him straight in the eye and say Hey, your fly's undone.

Possible R#3 to R#3: If this is really challenging for you, and you honestly have no idea how to communicate this message try the sandwich technique where you slip the information between two pieces of bread, like so Hey, Mario, great job stacking the yogurts. Do we have any strawberries in the back? Hey, your fly is undone - please take care of it, and then unpack the cotton candy grapes.

Bad Ideas: If none of the above solutions resonates with you, please do not:

• Post a sign in the break room saying All Flies Must Be Done. This is confusing and kind of weird. 
• Reach over and fix the fly yourself. This kind of gesture can be misconstrued.
• Make a scene out of checking your own fly, and making sure your zipper is done up, hoping this employee will take the hint. You never know when you are being caught on film.

In Conclusion: As a manager of a retail store, you are responsible to ensure that your employees follow the dress code which in this case includes zipped pants. Your best method in my opinion is the most direct approach. If you really can't do it, you may want to outsource this function to a trusted associate. (Get someone else to tell the guy to zip it). If that doesn't work, perhaps consider an employee uniform that does not include zipped pants (Rugby uniform? Catsuit?)

Of Blessed Memory, Mashed Potato Martinis and Trump

Three Years Ago:

Dad over for supper.

Would have been his 50th wedding anniversary with my Mom.

Trade suitably sad and happy stories over table full of leftovers.

In fact, he says. I had a dream about Mummy last night.

Kids stand up to clear table. There is only So Much they can take.

Recounts dream which is in fact nightmare as so much of Alzheimer's is.

I had a nightmare last night too, says 15 year old G, plate in hand.

I dreamt I went to a completely different school, and Trump was there and he was signing etrogs and giving them to everybody.

Whoa you're right, my Dad says. That is a nightmare.

Lesson Learned:
It is a sad state of affairs when the imaginary appearance of the President-Elect of another country competes for nightmare status with the tragic too-soon loss of one's beloved wife and mother and Bubbie.

It is an even sadder state of affairs when the obscure-citrus-fruit-signing, soon-to-be-leader-of-the-free-world, wins.

Also:
My Mom died on Sunday of Labor Day Weekend five years ago. Here's the blog post I wrote when I got up from shiva which remains one of my most popular pieces of all time (click here to read).

How This Relates to Hippocamp:
One of my favourite writers and Hippo-people who I am proud to call my Hippo-sister recently tragically lost a parent. We were talking (over mashed potato martinis) about how she needs to write all the blah blah out of herself to help with grief and get to the good part. I was saying that I rarely, almost never, write about the loss of my mother because while aspects of Alzheimer's are hilarious -for the most part it's as tragic as a chipped nail (which btw used to send my mother over the edge) and for the most part dementia jokes are considered in poor taste. I also told her that in my. mind the story of my mother would be best told as a play but I've never written a play and also who the heck has the time.

She Got Me Thinking Though:
That in between never mentioning my Mom at all and endlessly weeping and wringing my hands there has to be some kind of a way to pay a tribute to her, especially today.

So:
With that in mind, I went looking through my old pieces to see if there was anything I wrote and never published and I found this little number from three years ago and I thought. Perfect.

Another Life or American Crime Scene

A week or two ago I was eating salmon and orzo salad on a porch strung with those Pinterest lights and someone told a story about how Selma Blair's sister was their summer camp counsellor in the late 80s.
Another girl (who is now a woman) from their cabin bumped into Selma Blair in LA went up to her and said:
Are you Selma Blair Beitner?
And Selma was like (ugh)  (autograph request) (ok fine) Yeah, that's me.
And the girl said Your sister was my camp counsellor in the late 80s.
They had a good laugh, reminisced about the olden days and I assume although it was not part of the story took a coupla selfies.

Next day I am at the library interviewing an older gentleman about his genealogy database in conjunction with a project we are working on together when he cracks a joke about his wife.
Oh, Stanley. I say. I know you love your wife. I can see the way you talk about her.
Stanley says. I do love my wife but I gotta tell you what happened last week.
When I was in Harvard Business School I went out with a girl (who is now a woman) named Mollie. Penn Fruits. Don't know if the name means anything to you but her parents were in the fruit business. Went belly up. Used to drive my 56 Chevy from Boston to Philly just to see her on the weekends. Friend of mine called me last week and said. What ever happened to Mollie. So I said. I'm a researcher, I'm going to look her up.
Smart girl. Became a lawyer, maybe a judge, didn't surprise me. Married a guy Beitner. Divorced him. Four daughters. Each one more beautiful than the next. One became a movie star.

Selma Blair Beitner? I ask.

That's the one. Stanley says. You know her?

Lessons Learned:
1. Six degrees of separation are way too many. You can probably get by with one or two
2. Genealogy research started because people were trying to find out what happened to their old girlfriends before Facebook was invented
3. People actually buy those Pinterest lights and string them up on their porches
4. In the right context, orzo can count as salad