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Archive for March, 2011

Breastfeeding Bites. And So Will Your Baby.

posted by Sheva 2:55 AM
Wednesday, March 30, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below. But don’t miss the adorable baby photos at the very bottom of this page!

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Breastfeeding bites

Ah, the heavenly joys of breastfeeding. A small helpless infant, suckling at your breast, while fairies float by and Disney music tinkles in the background…

Wha-? Oh, excuse me. I must have fallen asleep reading The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.

Truth hurts. And so does breastfeeding. At least for the first week. The first few weeks. Hey, for many of us, the first few months are sheer terror, if we even make it that far. I was the most unprepared for my first child’s iron lockjaw clamp on my nipples, since all I had done in preparation for having a child was taking a natural birthing class with a woman my husband & I dubbed “the Bradley Birth Nazi”. She scolded us constantly, and actually yelled at my husband once when he was having trouble understanding her. She had told us in no uncertain terms that breastfeeding was the most natural, pleasant and wonderful thing in the world.

_

Hey – sorry for that interruption. I just fell off my chair laughing.

Within the first few months of breastfeeding my first born, I survived two clogged milk duct infections (fever, soreness, aches, misery – coupled with just having given birth and still not having slept more than a couple hours at a time, you can guess how much fun I was having at that point), weeks of bleeding nipples (sorry, all you men who accidentally thought this blog was gender neutral. I’ll see you at the next blog, ok?); I mean, the pain each time he latched on – my nipples getting yanked, twisted and pinched by the iron vice grip that was his mouth (NO I’m not into that, perv), and the feeling that all the life force was being drained out of me every time he suckled… The Womanly Art. Indeed.

It got better. After countless nursing specialists who all threw up their hands in defeat, my son finally grew out of the nightmare gumming/nursing phase, helped along by a friend who did energy work on him. I survived the long days and the long nights of nursing hell. (Did I mention he had reflux which means he basically projectile “spit up” half the milk he drank after each feeding? My clothes from that time looked fantastic.)

I actually wound up becoming one of those champions of nursing, one of those moms who will just whip it out and serve her boy some mid day snack (UNDER the breastfeeding blanket, thank you very much… I mean ladies, come on. I’ve had 3 kids and I don’t like to see a baby sucking a bare boob while I’m ordering dinner).

My 2nd child was a great nurser from the get-go. And the 3rd? Fine at sucking, but she got a yeast infection in her mouth, tongue thick with a white paste that wouldn’t budge. The yeast made my boobs experience the worst shooting pains imaginable, at all hours of the day & night, until I finally managed to get rid of it. Twice. (Men – seriously, WHAT are you doing still reading this?? I warned you!) So, Ladies, as I was saying… I had to use this purple dye stuff – Gentian violet something or other – to kill the yeast in the end. Horrible.

Hey! G-friends? Where are you going?? I didn’t even get to the part when they start teething…!

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

She's coming for me!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

posted by Sheva 2:00 AM
Monday, March 28, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below. And there’s even an original GrownUpGirl Song to listen too, so scroll all the way down & keep clicking!

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – CH-Ch-Ch-Changes: the BLOG

Had coffee with a friend recently I hadn’t seen in about nine years. This guy was the heaviest drinker & smoker I knew growing up, played guitar and got into fights over stupid philosophical things, and never left home without his leather jacket. He honestly believed that anarchy was the best social and political solution.

(Yes, I hung out with people like that as a kid, and NO that is not what this blog is about. Note to self- write about childhood in another blog.)

Nowadays – my friend? He quit smoking while his wife was pregnant. He doesn’t go out to bars anymore; in fact, he is a part-time stay at home dad. He is planning to move to some green pasture in Utah over the next year to raise his child in a healthy, more affordable place. He votes Democrat and is kind of conservative, by his own definition. He’s in therapy.

I’ve still got one up on him: I changed my name. Both of them.

I used to be Shana Susman. From about age 17 until around 24, I partied like crazy about 4 or 5 nights a week. (I’d go into more details, but I really cringe to think someday my kids could get a hold of these blogs.) I was insecure, needy. I didn’t believe in God. I suffered from headaches, stomach aches, insomnia, and I grinded my teeth.

I wound up in therapy when I moved to LA, age 22, and that 7 year process pretty much saved my life, thanks to my angel of a therapist and my sincere desire to get better and be happy. She encouraged me to write, act & sing, which also helped dig me out of my self-destructive hole… and then I discovered a spiritual system – Kabbalah – that pretty much rocked my world.

I asked for the Rav Berg, head of the Kabbalah Centre, to channel me a Hebrew name, one that was connected to my soul, and he gave me BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin). (BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) was the soulmate of Kind David.) Not Sarah. Not Miriam. Not Leah. BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin).

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – a crazy Hebrew name that has all sorts of cool kabbalistic secret codes hidden within (technically the name means “daughter of seven,” if you’re familiar with numerology or Kabbalah you start to get the idea) – a name that no self respecting American can pronounce. A name that makes every Israeli assume I am also Israeli, which leads to incomprehensible messages on my voicemail every once in a while. (Luckily Israeli Husband can translate.) Also, a name I happen to love.

So I changed it, right around the time that I married… and at that time, I changed my last name too, to Vaknin, which is also unpronounceable and un-spellable by any American worth his or her salt.

Shana Susman became BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) Vaknin.

Over the course of the past 20 years, I’ve gone from hard-partying, ironic & secretly depressed girl, to stable, mostly happy and confident mother, wife, and woman.

Excuse me. Grown up girl.

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

PS I’ve included a song, below – CRADLE YOU – that was the very first song I ever wrote, back when I was digging myself out of a black hole with the help of therapy and creativity. Enjoy!

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Cradle you – the SONG

GDS, YES!

posted by Sheva 11:36 PM
Saturday, March 26, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – GDS, Yes! The BLOG

I went to such a cool high school. Georgetown Day School in Washington, DC. We had a smoking lounge. We called our teachers by their first names. We were encouraged and pushed to think, to voice our thoughts, to be creative, and to get involved… in everything, from good causes (Amnesty International was one of many I remember volunteering for) to sports (I broke my fingers about 5 times as girls soccer team goalie) to theater (we had a black Audrey & 3 white Ronettes for Little Shop of Horrors), to WHATEVER.

Our mascot? The grasshopper. I’m not kidding. But think about it: no school could get away with that unless it was super cool, you know what I mean? Years after I graduated, I actually found & bought a GDS t-shirt with the grasshopper logo at Urban Outfitters. Go figure.

Recently, an article I wrote for the GDS school paper, the Augur Bit (don’t ask me what that means, I have no clue), surfaced on Facebook. It’s dated November 17, 1989, which means I was 17 years old and still named Shana Susman. (It’s so weird how, in the 22 years since then, I’ve only aged 10 yrs!! I love modern science. And bad math.)

Reading through the article, I found that I had as much fun back then writing for public consumption as I do now. So for today’s GrownUpGirl treat, all you GrownUpGirl fans (you know who you are, aunt Nina & that weirdo whose comments I keep spamming but she still won’t leave me alone): here it is… my first published article!!

Not sure what ol’ Bob is up to, or what Neil is doing these days. But believe it or not, Andy Rapaport recently jammed with his old Kingface buddies, according to his Facebook status – over at somebody’s ungodly ancient birthday fete.

And Heaven Kaley – I mean Kevin Haley – is a rising star here in Los Angeles where he just joined the mimetastic Rock band E*Lux.

Long live Cheap Dates everywhere! And GDS grownupgirls & guys everywhere…

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Up All Night

posted by Sheva 12:22 AM
Friday, March 25, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Up All Night

Sister, sister, please let me hold him. I wanna make him stay up all night, here we go! All night long!

Can you name that song?

Boyfriend from camp around age 14 introduced me to that song. And now, it’s stuck in my head, on a loop.

Because I’m wired.

I doubt I’ll be up all night tonight – it’s only 11:13 so I’ll finish this blog, watch one TV show or so, do my before-bed routine, then sleep… and with luck (translation: no children waking me up all night), I’ll get a good 5 hours or so before it’s up time again.

I don’t like to go to sleep at night. I would rather watch TV, surf the computer, or write emails. Or blogs. Sometimes I’ll go to the gym late, though that means I need to shower when I get home, unwind (TV), which pushes bedtime even later. Or do errands – I mean I do have 3 kids after all, & a full time job. Who has the time during the day? Yes, I’m that weird girl who hits Trader Joe’s at 9:55 pm (5 minutes before closing) and then gets to Target by 10:20 to do a good half an hour of shopping there before closing.

The funny thing is, I love to take naps. If I’m tired, on a weekend day, my favorite thing in the world (short of sleeping in, in the morning, which I haven’t been able to do ONCE since I was preggers with my 6 yr old, so you do the math on that one), is to fall into a cozy, comfy, warm, enveloping sleep. Ahhhhh.

But at night? Hell to the no. Especially once everyone goes to sleep. It’s finally ME time. Veg time. Relax time. It’s not such a big deal, but usually I push the envelope throughout the week so much that once a week or so I crash when putting the kids to bed around 8 and sleep the whole night through.

At least I don’t actually have insomnia anymore – almost never, unless I take something caffeinated too close to bedtime. My whole childhood I suffered from terrible bouts of insomnia. I spent many nights from as early an age as I can remember (not that I remember much, see “Memory Loss” blog for details) awake to hear the first birds chirping, the first light rising, and finally, finally, the long-awaited awakening of whatever family member happened to get up first. Mom, usually.

By then, I’d be spent, exhausted, a pale ghost. I’d finally fall asleep and then wake up late, if I could. Then the cycle would start again.

By college, when I was partying like crazy (yes, that’s what I was doing. Yes, that too. Yes. Seriously. Yup. Yes, at Yale, believe me, nerds know how to party too). I was partying like it was 1999, and that just made my insomnia go into an even higher octane gear (if there is such a thing??) and I would go sometimes days or even one week without really sleeping at all.

It only took me another seven years, give or take, before I got help and helped myself and broke that pattern.

But that’s another story.

You know what? All this writing is starting to make me sleepy.

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

HUNG OVER

posted by Sheva 12:50 AM
Wednesday, March 23, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – HUNG OVER the BLOG

Do you ever drink so much that you have a total and all-out blast?

And then get alcohol poisoning the next day?

I’m ashamed to admit that that was a semi-often occurrence for me in my earlier adult life, say from the age of around 17 up until the ripe older but still young age of 27.

Every time I was dizzy and throwing up, I would swear to myself that I’d never do that again. For about 10 years, I wasn’t so good at keeping that promise to myself.

But ultimately, as my life changed, I grew into a much healthier version of my old self (yes, therapy, yes, yoga, yes, discovering God and spirituality, yes to every other cliché you can think of, but hey, if it works, it works!). So that, combined with having 3 kids & the lack of drinking that automatically goes with being pregnant and breastfeeding, meant I had all but cut the stuff out of my life.

Until.

Every heard of Purim? It’s a Jewish holiday – or in my world, a Kabbalistic holiday, where you are supposed to dress up, listen to “the whole Megilah,” and drink. Or more specifically, get drunk.

As I mentioned, over the past 7 years, I’ve been either pregnant or breastfeeding every single Purim, so I haven’t been able to fulfill that last requirement. But this year… I am still breastfeeding, but not much. Time to get drunk, I said to myself!

And so I did.

And I had fun! I danced. I flirted. I badgered my husband mercilessly, and he was a great sport, he took it all in stride and we had fun together. I (allegedly – this part I didn’t remember at all until I got some mysterious texts and messages later “thanking me” for the talks, and then it all started to come back) – took friends aside and told them what they needed to change about themselves in order to reach their true potential, and generally did all the other fun things that you can only get away with when you are drunk and everyone else is either drunk or at least understanding of your drunkenness.

And then came the barfing.

All day Sunday. Heaving. Even when there was nothing left to throw up, I kept throwing up. (Sorry, to those of you who just ate.) My head spun. My skull felt like it was about to crack open. My husband racked up about a thousand Husband Points (yes, we do keep track, men, we have a whole secret scoring system) by letting me stay in bed all day and taking care of the kids even though he was also hung over and had only slept about three hours.

I felt badly that my daughter missed her beloved ballet class that day. I was too sick to take her. I felt stupid for mixing about 5 different kinds of alcohol and skipping the food – my 20 year old self would have rolled her eyes at my naïveté. And I was annoyed at myself that I didn’t remember until half the day was over that I needed to take a particular homeopathic remedy – Nux Vomica for all you alcoholics out there – that rapidly and most excellently erases all signs of alcohol poisoning (along with another 3 hour nap) .

But mostly? I was glad that I had gone a little crazy. Just for one night, and for a good cause. I guess sometimes we have to act like a stupid teenager again to remember why we’re so glad we are not stupid teenagers anymore!

Thoughts?

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Judy Blume and Porn

posted by Sheva 4:59 AM
Sunday, March 20, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Judy Blume and Porn

Judy Blume was totally my surrogate mother while I was growing up.

Gentle readers, are you there? It’s me – Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)!

I actually did a monologue from one of her books as a kid, auditioning for a Washington, DC professional children’s troupe. And I got in.

I mean, who of you can say that you didn’t cry with that Blubber girl, bite your nails with Margaret, and hold your breath along with the rest of Judy Blume’s teenage heroines, as you took breaks from your overwhelming teen & pre-teen days to just lose yourself in a book? I even liked Judy Blume’s early childhood books, with kids who had names like Turtle and Fudge.

Question: Did any of you discover Judy Blume’s other books?

Por ejemplo, Wifey?

Dude.

That book… rocked. My. World.

My twelve and thirteen year old world, to be exact.

To this day I still remember Shep, the sexy man who drove by the protagonist’s house (don’t remember her name, and who cares! She was me, in my fantasy) – and how Shep dropped his pants & masturbated, then leaving her – me – alone again, with the image of a stars and stripes helmet and a naked, sexy man, masturbating for me. I mean her.

Somehow, when I write about that scene, I wonder how Judy Blume pulled that off – making that scene about basically a stranger flashing & jacking off to a woman hot and sexy, vs creepy and disgusting. But she did. That is exactly what makes Judy Blume such a frickin MASTER.

I found my dad’s stack of Playboys hidden in the basement cabinet one time when I was snooping around as a kid. I was pretty grossed out and annoyed that he had them in the house like that. But then again, I had my own secret stash upstairs… my dog-eared, worn from constant re-reading, thick sex novel, Wifey. By Judy Blume.

Holy shit. I’m revising this blog before signing off, and an old, buried memory just surfaced like a fart bubble in the bathtub. That book – Wifey? – originally belonged to my stepmother.

EW!

It’s all coming back to me – how I found it in one of their overstuffed, musty bookshelves, and stole it. I guess I just loved and obsessed about it so much, that I adopted it and it became mine. Now that I remember it first belonged to her, it feels a little grosser than before.

I still love you, Judy Blume. It’s not your fault my Dad & his wife were horndogs.

One last note: When I was seventeen I lost my virginity. Not because I was in love. Because I had read – at age 14-ish – Forever .

(By Judy Blume, DUH!)

Forever… In which the heroine, Katherine (I only know her name because I looked it up once as an adult – believe me, I wouldn’t have remembered because she was ME when I read the book), loses her virginity to Michael when she turns seventeen.

If seventeen was good enough for Judy Blume, it was good enough for me.

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Comments Off

Pardon my French!

posted by Sheva 1:10 AM
Friday, March 18, 2011

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below. And the audio is funny, so do it!!

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Pardon My French the BLOG

WARNING: the following blog is rated R due to graphic language and the joy experienced by the writer as she writes said graphic language.

Cursing. So wrong. And yet…

Can be so delicious.

Generally, I don’t like to curse. Kind of comes with the territory of being a parent. Or a teacher – my younger brother had a finely tuned potty mouth, until years of teaching high school caught up with him.

“I’m Effing tired, dude!” he announced, arriving late off a plane to come visit us – a rare occurrence.

“Effing? Effing” I couldn’t stop laughing. And Brother admitted that he’d gotten out of the habit of cursing so that it wouldn’t slip out in the classroom.

And as anyone who stops cursing knows, (much like quitting smoking, actually), once you stop, you NOTICE when other people keep doing it. And you realize what a bad habit it is, what bad energy those words carry, and what a terrible influence that type of language has on children.

And yet.

Occasionally, when I’m with certain friends who I feel I can really let my guard down around, I’ll swing out a “fucking” mid-sentence, just to really ramp up the impact of my statement. Because for someone who (nowadays) never swears, one little “fucking,” mid sentence, can really pack a punch.

And while I dislike hearing people talk who way over-use curse words, I admit I feel the power wielded by those certain people who really know how to do it. Old pros, who chew and chew and chew, and then POP POP POP! Three bubbles in a row. Or, rather, they put a “mother fucker cock sucker” right where it counts.

My friend is one of those people. Old school. He’s fun to listen to – he says things like, “we’re just riffing here,” and “let’s make some bread,” and other phrases that make me feel like he just returned from hanging at Studio 54 with Andy Warhol. His cursing? Unparalleled. The guy can slaughter another person or an idea (or make it seem fantastic) with a string of choice curse words. And unlike those posers who curse to get attention, my friend couldn’t not curse if he tried.

Case in point: yesterday he was talking animatedly to me about something, telling me about this “mother fucking guy” – and then he stopped, looked at me like “shit, she’s my friend and a mother of three and I know her husband and we go to Shabbat together,” and he corrected himself. He said, “excuse me, ‘fucking guy…”and continued on with his story.

Cursing is so much a part of him that he didn’t even notice that when he tried to censor himself, he accidentally took out the “mother”.

Left in the “fucker”.

Made me smile.

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Six Haikus

posted by Sheva 1:16 AM
Thursday, March 17, 2011

BTW, if you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – 6 Haikus – the BLOG

1:

A breath of fresh air

I’m afraid it’s all a dream

Husband quit smoking

2:

Jesus H – Fingers hurt!

Guitar is fucking HARD-D.

But if I learn? Coooool.

3:

Tomorrow’s the day

My baby will start first grade.

Give mommy a kiss!

4:

Finding time to write

Is like finding breath in death

Transcendental stuff

5:

Amazing thing, life

Just when I’m about to kill

He says something nice

6: Your turn!

Come on… We all need a little more poetry in our lives.

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – 6 Haikus

Boy Talk

posted by Sheva 11:02 PM
Tuesday, March 15, 2011

BTW, if you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Boy Talk – the BLOG

What the hell, man?

I’m a mother. I’m nurturing, caring, sensitive, forgiving… soft. Which is the best way to treat a child, right?

My husband? He can be soft, nurturing, sweet…

Flashback: to my son’s first day of homework for the new year of 1st grade, with his new strict teacher.

So, I’m helping my son get his homework done, we do some good reading together, but when it’s time for him to write his spelling words, he balks. He dreams. He doodles. All in all, he spends almost 45 minutes at the table without even writing the first word.

And me? I’m getting worried, angry, frustrated, concerned. Is this all he’ll amount to? (I know, I know. I’m just being honest here, I’m not defending myself or anything.) Will his teacher judge him, give up on him? Does he lack focus? Motivation? A love for learning? Is he tired? Hungry? Worn out?

I decide, yes, one of these last choices for sure, so when he tells me decisively he’s not going to do his homework ‘right now’, I cave. I give him his shower and some extra time in the water just to chill out & play. I start fixing dinner and think to myself he’ll have more energy, more focus after he eats dinner (never mind that I already fed him apples and Pirates Booty snack).

Then. As I’m cooking – oh let’s be honest, re-heating – I hear my husband come into the dining room, dragging my son with him. Roughly, he forces our child to sit with him. Then, my husband does what in my opinion, he all too often does – he picks a fight with our son. He rough-houses with him, rough-handles him, makes him cry, scream, flail. Which only makes my husband double his effort to even get more control over &/or more of a rise out of him – which one, I’m not sure even he knows.

My husband even pulls me into it at one point – “you wanted him to do his homework, now, don’t disappear!” and I’m stunned because I hadn’t wanted it to go like this, not like this.

I stammer something and retreat to the kitchen. This happens twice. My shoulders are hunched to my ears as I prepare the food.

How could he do this?

Why didn’t he consult with me first?

Why does he always DO this with our son… push him like this?

And finally when my head is about to burst, I hear –

Quiet.

Because my son is suddenly focused on his homework. He is doing it methodically, and doing it well.

He finishes quickly, and shows me what he did. Glowing with pride. Afterward, he is still so happy, he hugs me and kisses me repeatedly.

What the–?

It calls to mind what a good friend of mine, who is a professor in the field of Gender Studies, told me the other night. He is a very liberal, VERY liberal guy. So I was surprised to hear what he had to say about this subject… He told me that most boys, like my son, have been willful and undisciplined, wild and refusing to listen since the beginning of time. So, he asked – what is the difference these days? How did those boys of yesteryear wind up quiet and obedient – in class, in boy scouts, in the army, etc.? But these days we hear endless stories of boys bouncing off the wall in classrooms?

His answer: they were physically disciplined. They were hit, smacked, shaken, screamed at. Teachers, and parents, up until about 30 years ago, disciplined boys like this all over America, with stunning results.

The boys settled down and fell into line.

I am a pacifist. I don’t believe violence is ever the answer. Side note: I actually took a semester in high school with Coleman McCarthy on pacifism, where he wouldn’t give us any grade but A because he thought grades were a form of violence. (Nice work for a student if you can get it)

And yet…

When my husband roughed up my son, they traveled through a very uncomfortable space (for me) of high drama and a throw-down face-off… and then… they settled into an efficient, focused and productive work session.

Like I said – what the hell?

Thoughts?

c/xo

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Boy Talk

I Want My (Primetime) TV!

posted by Sheva 1:28 AM
Tuesday, March 15, 2011

BTW, if you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – I Want my Primetime TV – the BLOG

Can we talk? About TV?

Wait – don’t go! What did you think of that last episode of Lost?

Still here? Whew.

Truth: I’ve never seen Lost. I’m really glad. Because when I get into a show, I get INTO a show. I go deep.

Me and House, for example? We’re lovers. (No need to tattle to my husband – we’re kind of in a threesome, anyway.) Bones? Silly show. Stupid! But I’m hooked. 24? Don’t even talk to me, I’m busy being angry that it’s only 1 hour once a week, and Jack hasn’t had a truly hot girlfriend since the girl who was in Lipstick Jungle went crazy. Fringe? Fucking creepy but AMAZING acting & characters & yes, I’m hooked. Lie to Me? I’m having an affair behind House’s back with Dr. Lightman…

Not to mention all the reality shows I’m hooked on, like America’s Next Top Model (don’t hate me because I’m beautiful), Last Comic Standing (so sue me, I like to laugh), So You Think You Can Dance, and the annoying but impossible not to watch, American Idol.

A year ago before we cut costs here at the homestead, we also had Bravo, Showtime & HBO, so you could have just added Project Runway, Top Chef, Shameless, Entourage and Big Love to that list. (NO I am not into True Blood. Vampires are gross unless they are steamy 2010 versions of 1980 Rob Lowe heartthrobs… yes I’m talking about you, Mr. Pattinson.)

I guess it’s obvious why I’ve never had the time to do a blog before now.

OMG did I forget to say GOSSIP GIRL? Love. Don’t ask me how old I am, it’s none of your business. That show rocks. Usually.

I caught the pilot of Grey’s Anatomy and I already know that if I ever have another baby I’ll watch that whole series on DVD like I did 24, Weeds, and Project Runway to get caught up. What? I have 3 kids & I work full time. Without post-maternity bed rest, how else could I have found the time?

I remember the days of being single, and busy – writing a novel in the evenings, working in an office during the day, going out most nights…

OH – I forgot Modern Family. Run do not Walk to see that show.

And I’d never abandon Law & Order SVU. Mariska, you are the Koolest. Plus my old Yale friend Jamie Waterstons’ dad is so likeable. Wait, which Law & Order was he on?

O, Sex in the City, how I yearn for you! The golden days of yesteryear.

I’d write more, but I need to sign off & finish this episode of The Good Wife.

It’s fantastic.

Cx/o

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

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