Talking on the Radio

Last night I did an interview with SistersTalk Radio.  It was so much fun.  A great interview.  The host was hard on me, which was really good.  She said that in my book, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, I came across racist.

I said, “I’ve been accused of being a brat, of being homophobic, of being an entitled cow, but never racist.”

She said I mentioned race whenever I described a character.  That race seemed to be at the top of my mind.

I think she might be right. When I wrote My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy, I was a new writer. I thought then that I needed to physically describe all my characters.  If one of my characters was black or Latino or whatever, I probably said so.  But here’s my question:  Is awareness of race, racist?

Click here to link to the interview:

Tashi Got New Tooth Brushes with Suction Cups

This is my commentary on the stupidity of blogs and social media.

Lip Service Stories Due Friday, April 2

In Defense of Marriage

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about marriage growing up.  At first I was all for it.  I didn’t quite have the Cinderella dream, but I wanted to get married someday and saw myself with a husband and two or three kids and dogs and cats.  Later I leaned that marriage had its complications. Not domestically, although of course it does, but politically, like that it may have been started so men could own women.  This soured my taste for it.  Then I came out as a lesbian and with its historical muddiness and my own personal rejection from the club, I denounced it.  I said things like, Why would gay people even want to be part of this historically burdened institution.  Why waste our time fighting for marriage.

But now I feel differently.  I was asked a few years ago to facilitate a marriage for a straight couple.  I became a minister online and read a lot of other people’s ceremonies to understand why they would want to commit themselves for life and also to come up with what to say.  What I learned in that process was that the most important reason to get married is not legal or religious, but social.

Now, I’ve learned this from experience.  I got married a few weeks ago.  I think it was mostly inspired by my little-girl self who always wanted it.  But what I experienced taught me much more than what I learned studying about it. Marriage may have had a lousy beginning, but today it is a glorified institution we all should have access to if we want it.

I was cheered like a rock-star; my whole family (like 50 people) flew in from all over the country to be there; strangers beeped their horns when they saw the toilet paper and shaving cream on our car; my flight attendant gave us complimentary champagne when I said we were on our honeymoon; the concierge at our hotel, my friends, the flight attendant, the check out lady at the grocery store, everyone said CONGRATULATIONS! like I’d done something important.

People didn’t seem to care that I married a woman.  But everyone cared that I got married.

Got Married!

Lip Service, Greatest Show in the World

If I Were Her Age, I’d Want to be Friends

Today while Tashi and I were walking home from Sophie’s house, because Tashi had a sleepover, she told me she watched Peter Pan, the real movie, which meant it had actors instead of animation. I asked which she liked better, cartoons or real people and she said, “That’s a hard one.”

She told me Peter Pan was very sad. I asked why and she stopped walking. She said, “Peter came to the window and Wendy was having a party.” Her face got squished up and then she put her hands over your eyes and cried, real tears. She said, “Peter couldn’t go in.” 

I watched her in pain and started to cry too. Then we both laughed.

We talked about how movies that make you cry are really good, even though they make you cry. 

She asked me if Peter Pan was real and I said no. She asked if Mama Mia was real and I said no. Then she asked about the Sound of Music and I said, yes. I think that’s a true story. 

She was wearing hot pink, glittery disco pants, a pinkish-purple, Puma T-shirt and hot-pink high tops. Mima took her shopping yesterday for your birthday. 

She is a mix of super hip and cool and so sensitive and sweet. If I were her age, I’d definitely want to be friends with her.

Big Step

Sebastian took a step yesterday. To the side. He stood with his hands out, not holding on. He stepped to the left with his left foot. His right foot followed. Then he sat down. He is 11 months and 13 days old. He’s a big boy.

For Posterity, the Princess Phase is Over

Dear Posterity,

I realize I’ve been writing post-it notes about the fun or cool or noteworthy things that have been going on lately and not writing them down anywhere, except on post-it notes.  So right now, on the day after Christmas, while my family is at a kid’s birthday party and I am home alone because Victoria took the kids and gave me a pass, I will write them down.

1.  Tashi gave away all her Princess possessions.  The princess phase is OVER.  On the day before her 6th birthday, we cleaned out her closet and her toy chest (which is actually  her whole room) to make way for new toys.  We do this every once in a while.  I talk about how she has so much and how there are many children who don’t have very much at all.  I think she understands this concept because two years ago Tashi and I went to a small town in Guatemala and stayed in a little bungalow and the  woman in charge of the bungalow we stayed in lived in another bungalow right next to it.  She had a daughter named Luna, who was a year or so older than Tashi.  The two girls played together on hammocks outside our bungalows.  Luna and Tashi were playing inside our bungalow one night with two Brats that Tashi brought with her.  They were Teen Brats, not the slinky, sexy, hoochie-mama adult Brats.  Luna loved these Brats. I mean, LOVED.  She talked about how bella they were and once she discovered them, that was it for swinging on hammocks.  Before we left, I asked Tashi if she wanted to give Luna one of her Brats.  Tashi did.  I don’t remember how that went down, maybe Tashi was struck by how little Luna had. Luna had one doll to her name.  But I doubt it.  I probably made a deal with Tashi, which I do often.  ”You give Luna one of your Brats and I’ll let you eat dinner tonight. Deal?”

Deals worked so well for so long.  But now that Tashi’s six, she’s constantly trying to strike a deal with me.  ”I’ll have one cookie and you can have one cookie.  Deal?”

However it happened, Tashi gave Luna a Brat and I was so proud of my sweet, generous girl.  The next year I went back to Guatemala alone and brought Luna another Brat.  A gift from Tashi.

My point about Luna is that we talk about Luna whenever we clean out her toy chest.  So I think she understands that some people don’t have as much stuff as she has.  I worry a lot about this concept and don’t know how to actually teach my children to appreciate all they have.  I’m working on it.  I wanted to donate toys to needy children this year for Xmas, but didn’t figure out how to do that in time. I will next year.  I hope.  I want to.

So the day before Tashi turned six, she was really cool about clearing out and giving away her old things.  Not cool about everything.  She clung to a Barbie head that looks demented, in my opinion.  Not only because it’s just a head, but because it has blue lipstick, which is probably nail polish or maybe permanent marker, and other “make-up” and the hair…I just don’t like that thing.  But I didn’t make any deals about it because Tashi gave away four princess costumes, two sets of wings, two magic wands, three crowns, her Ariel backpack, a Sleeping Beauty bag, plastic glass slippers, and more.  I couldn’t believe it.  My girl is growing up.

There’s more, but I’m tired.

Love,

Andrea

I Didn’t Even Pay This Guy!

My Miserable, Lonely,Pregnancy got on someone’s top 10 list for 2009!   I’m there with Dave Eggers and some guy who won the Booker Prize!!!  See below or go to ShelfAWARENESS.  My Mis would make a great stocking stuffer!

Tonight at Wachovia Bank

Not as exciting sounding as THE IMPROV, but that’s where I’m gonna be telling stories and raising funds tonight.  Don’t miss it.  Wachovia Bank, 2555 Ponce, Coral Gables.  6:30 pm. $35 for the Women’s Fund.  Includes booze and food.

This was my last show, performing with William “Rock the House” Lewis.  Here he is wrapping his belly with raffle tickets for Lauren’s Light.  Twice around William’s belly for $100.  What a deal!

Storytelling for a Cause

Blog to Nowhere and No One

I just logged onto to the back pages of this thing and saw that I had three pending comments. I pretend I don’t give a shit who reads my blog or if anyone reads it at all, but when I saw those three comments sitting there waiting to be approved, I’ll admit, my heart started pacing. Then I read the first comment: “I stumbled across your blog while searching online for debt relief…” I marked it as spam. I read the second comment: “I stumbled across your blog while searching for yeast infection relief.” 

Ohhh. My heartbeat slowed. No one reads my blog. Not even my mom.

Is this Progress?

My mom’s thinking about having a New Year’s Eve party. She asked me if I would come. I made a face that meant, “Maybe, if nothing better comes up.”
She said, “Oh, I get it. If one of your lezzie friends has a party, we’re out.”
She was right.
Now I’m wondering: is this progress, my mom saying lezzie?

Lip Schtick Gets 5 Stars

Here’s my story from Lip Schtick, which deserves more than one star.  It got one star because my very own girlfriend Victoria tried to rate me and messed up obviously and then didn’t know how to change it.  So ignore the star system.  It’s probably wise to ignore the star system on all Youtube videos, since the stars were probably put there by somebody’s girlfriend.  Probably somebody’s girlfriend who knew how to rate the thing with 5 stars. Clearly not my girlfriend.

Lip Schtick was a co-production of Lip Service and The Open Tent.  We created a night of true, Jewish stories told at Books & Books during Sleepless Night Miami. Go to www.lipservicestories.com to watch all the stories.  Let me know what you think.

One of these Things…

My friend, Lauren Beiley, invited me to a Jewish Federation symposium called Women with Muscle. I didn’t really want to give up my morning (because I’m writing a book and I need my mornings!) and so I asked her if she really needed me there to fill up space and if so, I said I’d do it. She said she didn’t need me, but that it might be enlightening. Lauren fills space at my events all the time and I could use some enlightening, so I went.

I dressed up because I know what the Jewish women of Miami are like. I grew up with them. They are fancy. I walked into the private house in Pinecrest in my kick-ass jeans and a tight button down shirt that makes me feel sexy and went straight for the food. It was breakfast time and they had fruit salad and bagels and rugalah. I saw Lauren. She came over, we hugged, she thanked me for coming. I said, “Why am I the only one eating?”

She said, “These are Jewish women. I told them not to bother with food.”

I sat next to a girl I played tennis with in high school. Hadn’t seen her in years. I stared at her heals. Three inches, maybe two and a half. She had nice feet and bony ankles.

I crossed my legs and noticed you could see the monkey on my sock peeking out under the bottom of my jeans. Tashi gave me these socks–blue and green stripes with a red heal and a monkey face on the top of the foot. I realized my socks matched the stuffed monkey on my keychain, which I held in my hand because I don’t like to wear a purse. Other women wore jeans, but not many. Everyone wore a purse.

Most were wearing silky blouses or dresses and high healed, strappy sandals.  And lots of make up.  I put on eye liner and mascara this morning, but somehow I still felt like I often did growing up, especially amongst this same crowd, like an oddball.

The symposium was enlightening and really, at 41, I don’t care who wears what or who eats rugulah. But, does everyone feel like the kitty in bunny ears, or just me?

Morality in Politics

I’ve been on a newspaper reading spree for two days now and yesterday I read in the Miami Herald that President Obama wants to come up with some compromise on the abortion ban in the healthcare bill. He said he doesn’t want funding for abortion to sneak into the bill. 

Abortion is a LEGAL, MEDICAL procedure in this country.  Why is the government, including our president, trying to control through backhanded legislation, what kinds of procedures people can get?  I know the answer is political cow-towing bullshit for reelection.  But it’s wrong.

This is like saying, let’s make sure funding for kidney transplants doesn’t sneak into the bill. The government, health insurance companies, NOBODY should be allowed to deny specific medical services.

Reading the paper is a frickin drag.

Sucky World Sometimes

My friend, Janet, called me yesterday pissed off because the Democtrats have no backbone. She’s a reporter. She deals with this stuff all the time. She was spitting mad, I could hear it in the way she said hello. For a second I thought she was mad at me.

“Did you hear what the House passed on the healthcare reform?” She knows I don’t pay enough attention to the news and this bothers her, but when I said no she continued without saying anything about my living under a rock.

“The democrats are frickin’ weak. I swear I’m starting to respect the Republicans. At least they stick to principal. Democrats are lame. They set the bar so low.

“Democrats actually voted for the bill because it excludes abortion. Government-subsidized insurance will NOT cover abortion. This is the biggest setback for women in a long, long time.
“The problem is all the hateful people who want what we don’t want are so organized. Hoards of people show up in Congress with blood and fetuses on their bodies. They lobby. They raise money. What is wrong with women’s organizations? As far as I’m concerned, they’ve lost.

“And Nancy Pellosi, the Democratic Female Speaker of the House, she needs to be voted out. What good is she? Okay she fought against banning abortion, but she failed. No one followed her. She is not a leader. She sucks!

“There were no Democrats who had the guts or the intelligence to say, you know what, imposing morality on healthcare is wrong! NO one did that effectively.”

“Oh shit,” I said.

“There’s this Democtratic Florida congresswoman, Suzanne Kosmas, who didn’t vote for the bill because she’s afraid she won’t get reelected. She’s a democrat!”

“Maybe she disagreed with the abortion ban?”

“NO, that’s not it. She’s cow-towing to her conservative constituency. I want to call her up. I want to say, what are you doing in Congress? Do you care about actually doing something or just getting reelected?”

“Call her,” I said. “Yes, ask her that.”

Janet got another call and hung up without saying goodbye.

Lip Schtick is Here

The famous Lip Service has teamed up with The Open Tent to bring South Florida…Jewish stories.  True, personal Jewish stories told by real people. What could be more fun?  

Check us out Saturday, Nov. 7th at 8 p.m. @ Books & Books on Lincoln Road.

Storytellers:  Andrea Askowitz (that’s me), Richard Freedberg, Dale Hershman, Mort Laitner, Chaim LieberPerson, Li-Mor Raviv, and Mitch Weissner.

I know it’s not nice to say these are some of Miami’s most loud-mouthed Jews, but they are.  We are!  In the best way.  Show is free!

Shiver Me Timbers

We Got the Swine

Tashi had Swine Flu.  At least I think she had Swine.  Might of well have been Swine, it was for sure the flu.  I know because we spent 5 hours at Miami Children’s Hospital Monday.  I took her to Children’s because I didn’t want to have to wait, like we always do, at her regular doctor. I’m an idiot, obviously.  But they did test her for the flu and did an ex-ray for lung stuff like pneumonia and bronchitis and her regular doctor doesn’t have an ex-ray machine, so I was smart to take her to Children’s. Just that every other parent in Miami was smart like me.

My daughter is a superstar.  She had to get her nose suctioned by what looked like a vacuum cleaner with a nostril-sized hose.  The nurse shoved it in and flipped the switch.  Tashi backed up a little bit and flailed her arms.  When the nurse approached her for a second round, Tashi stood strong.  I was so impressed, I offered to buy her the biggest lollypop in the world, which I didn’t do.

I did go to a giant candy store the next day. They had everything, including candy cigarettes, which I loved as a kid with the powdered sugar that puffed out if you blew on it. But please, those things need to be discontinued.  Candy cigarettes with powdered smoke!  That’s like a candy gun with bubble-gum bullets.  They also had Razzles, which I’d forgotten about until just now. Yum–an acquired texture. Now I’m going to eat the whole pack.
They also had the biggest lollypop in the world. But get this. The biggest lollypop in the world cost $69. Fucking hell. My child is brave, but it wasn’t a butt suction. And even if it was, $69! So what if it was the size of a bike tire.  Instead, Tashi got the extra medium.

Lip Schtick: We Want Your Jewish Stories

Lip Service and The Open Tent have come together to bring you…Lip Schtick, Jewish stories.  We’ll be performing, true Jewish stories live during Sleepless Night.  Submit your own story to submissions@lipservicestories.com AND come to the show, Nov. 7, 2009 at 8:00 p.m. at Books & Books, Lincoln Road.

Here’s my Latest Lip Service Story

The stories are up from the last Lip Service, September 26, 2009. I swear, this was the BEST Lips yet. I know I always say that, but thanks to the audience and the storyteller, this one felt the best. My brother told a story that you have to hear. He was hilarious and adorable.  My Uncle Ron said he was funnier than me.  Thanks Uncle Ron, but I don’t think so. Anyway, Tony packed the house with 150 of his closest friends.

Here’s my story:  It’s an excerpt.  The beginning got slashed, but you can still understand the story.

Come See Me and Support Lauren’s Light

Hello anyone who reads my blog.  I want to ask you for a special favor. I’m the host of a really cool fundraiser for an organization that is close to my heart–Lauren’s Light.  Lauren’s Light was founded in 2002 after the death of one of my best friends, Lauren Feinswog Millin.  Lauren died of cancer at 33.  She had two small children.

Now Lauren’s Light gives support to families with small children, in which a parent has cancer.

On October 8, 2009, Lauren’s Light is having its annual benefit–Lighten Up–and I am the host.  Lighten Up is a night of comedy at the Miami Improv.  Doors open at 6:30 p.m.

Come and laugh and if you can’t make it because you don’t live near Miami, PLEASE click and make a donation today.  THANK YOU!

Click on the invite below to make it bigger.

Comparing Children

They say you should never compare your children. I made this chart of their first year’s progress.

Lip Service this Saturday

Lip Service is back and we got press!  Check out MiamiARTzine.com and read about how Lip Service has become the hottest, smartest, most honest literary event in South Florida.


I’m so proud of Lip Service.  Really, I think it’s great.  Eight stories, eight minutes each by all different kinds of people with a story.


Come to the next Lip Service and see what I’m talking about.  Saturday, Sept. 26, 2009.  @ Books & Books in Coral Gables.

I Wish I had Drawn this First

That’s clearly a picture of Victoria and me with Sebastian sleeping between us.  I’m the one on the left with the feet in my face, except usually the feet are on top of my face.

This essay, Good Night and Tough Luck by Christoph Niemann is on the NY Times website today and it’s so good.  Christoph tells it like it is:  ”After weeks of sweet-talking, serenading, and heartbreaking Ferberizing, we think we have reclaimed our bed.  Until a short trip or a quick flu undoes everything again.”

Damn the truth.

Is that You?

My friend Andrea Stern asked me if this was me…

What Happened to My Budha Baby?

Sebastian is seven and a half months old, but has entered a new phase, which is a total regression. He sleeps like a newborn—nursing every three hours. Victoria’s been bringing him to the bed, if he sleeps in his crib at all, and sleeping with a giant, 21 pound baby who thrashes all night, is not cozy like one might imagine. We’re exhausted.

I’m starting to think he’s taking advantage of us. I would have scoffed at this idea a month ago, as if a baby can be conniving. But this baby seems to know what he wants and knows how to get it.

Yesterday Tashi and I were reading a book and Sebastian grabbed it. Tashi said, “No Sebastian, that’s mine,” and pulled it away. Sebastian cried like he’d been dropped on his head.

Tashi then said, “I’ll give you this book when you turn two, but if you rip it, you can’t have it.”

I thought that was so sweet, but it did nothing to pacify Sebastian.

What happened to my budha baby?

Last night, Pipa and Elsa came to dinner and we made the mistake of complaining about being tired and telling them how Sebastian’s been sleeping with us. Elsa told us about a show she watched where all the pediatric experts of the world have proven that letting your baby cry himself to sleep will make him a confident and self-sufficient. “Sleeping with your baby,” Elsa said, “makes him dependent forever.”

Two days before Victoria brought me an article she printed from the Internet reporting how all the leading pediatric experts had proven that sleeping with your baby creates life-long confidence and self-sufficiency.

I tell Elsa that there’s evidence on both sides.

My dad says, “Let him cry.”

I say, “How long do you think you could let him cry?”

“I could outlast him, I’m sure I could,” he says, like he’s so tough, and I realize my dad is the absolute perfect person to sleep through a baby crying.

“Well, you’re not normal,” I say.

But last night I was hardened, having nothing to do with what Elsa told us. I know the theories, I just haven’t wanted to let my baby cry without going to him. And Victoria is the same way. Last night though, we needed a break. And Sebastian was on my last nerve.

“Let’s let him cry,” I said. “I think we’ll be better parents if we sleep.”

“Okay.”

I put him in his crib. He was on his hands and knees squawking. He looked at me with love in his eyes and smiled that funny smile of his where his cheeks look like marshmallows and his lips turn into a squiggly line and his chin pokes out. But I did’t fall for it. I said, “Goodnight sweety,” and patted his butt.

I got into bed with Victoria and turned off the light. Sebastian started to cry.

“How long do you think we can last?”

“Ten minutes?” Victoria said.

“Ten minutes?! I’m thinking forty-five.”

After ten minutes Victoria went in to tell Sebastian that she is there. That he is safe and that he should go to sleep now. This is what one of the theories suggests—reassure the screaming child.
His cries got louder and more desperate.

“At least he feels reassured,” I said.

We listened for fifteen more minutes. “Should I reassure this time?” I said.

“No way, that backfired,” Victoria said.

Victoria suggested we make love. 
“Music’s too distracting,” I said.

Victoria started to pray. I caught a few words, “Maria…mujer…Jesus…”

We lay next to each other without talking for who knows how long until the cries diminished. Then built up again. Then diminished. Then stopped.

“Goodnight sweet darling,” I said.

“We did it.”

Growing Up

Sebastian at 7 months.

A Hug, A Kiss, A Bicycle

The other day Tashi said, “If I’m really good, can I have a hug or a kiss or a bicycle?”

I tried that line on my dad and guess what I got.

Maira Kalman is One of the Five People I Would Invite to Dinner

I just like her. Read this essay about the beauty and complexity of America. Because everyone I know was (or is) an immigrant. It has plenty of pictures, like I like. Here’s one of Ponce de Leon. Click on Ponce to get to the essay.

Ted Kennedy Dies and Tashi Misses Friends from School

I opened the New York Times website this morning to see that Ted Kennedy died. That’s so sad.  He was probably the most progressive legislator we’ve ever had.  And Obama called him “the greatest United States Senator of our time.” That’s huge.

In my world, Tashi started kindergarden.  All seemed smooth until going to bed last night.  She was already tucked in when I heard sobs from her bead room.  She cried hard.  She said she missed her friends from last year.  She said she’d never see them again and all I could think was, yep, she probably never will.

Interviewed on this Site

Hey, there’s a new website called dynamicfamilycoachingsolutions.com.  It seems really cool because they did an audio interview with meeeee!  Check it out today!

Met a Funny Guy

I’m sorry to report that Wind in Your Vagina is no longer a blog.  That is the nature of blogs.  They come and go.  It was a goody while it lasted.  So now I recommend another blog, having nothing to do with wind.  It’s called www.adamcooperwood.com.  Watch a few of the vlogs and learn some valuable tips about what you can accomplish with baking soda.  Any baking soda will do.  Enjoy!

Home from Trip

Thank you for not stealing any of our valuables while we were gone.  I say that, I mean, I make a big deal out of how nice it is to come home to all of our stuff because just about a month ago TWO of our bicycles got stolen.  We didn’t even have to leave town to lose our bikes.  But I’m not bitching about the stolen bikes, this is really a note of gratitude to everyone who didn’t steal anything while we were gone.  Thank you.

Vacation Time

We’re in New Hampshire with cooler weather until August 15th.  I’m so happy.  But if you’re planning to steal any bicycles, listen, they’re already stolen.  Also Beast will be here, guarding the house.  Beware!

Hi!

Morning Report

I was looking at Tashi’s skin this morning.  It’s perfect:  tan, smooth and silky.  Not freckly like mine.  I said to Victoria, “Tashi must have gotten her skin from the donor.”

Tashi said, “Who’s my donor?”

I said, “We don’t know him, remember?  You’ve seen his picture, from when he was a little boy.”

Tashi said, “I want to see his picture from when he was a man.”

I said, “Me too, but we can’t.  He donated anonymously.”

Tashi said, “Who’s the girls’ donor?”

I said, “Uncle Tony.  But he’s not a donor.  He’s their dad.  We have a donor because we needed a man to give me the sperm so that I could get pregnant.”

She said, “Do you like purple nail polish?”

I said, “I love it.”

What’s in a Name?

Before Sebastian was born I asked Tashi if she’d want to call Victoria Mami if the baby called her Mami.  She said yes.  

The baby doesn’t talk yet, but Victoria and I have been all over the place trying to name each other.  She wants Mami.  So I went with Mama.  The problem is, we can’t ever remember to call each other that in front of the kids.  And Tashi already calls me Mami, so when she calls out Mami and Victoria comes running, Tashi really means me. 

This morning I asked Tashi again what she and her brother will call us when he can talk.  We batted around a few ideas.  I said, “How about Tushi Mami for Victoria, because Victoria has a big butt, and Curly Mami for me, because I have curly hair?”   

Tashi said, “Tushi Mami can be a little embarrassing,” and we both laughed. 

“How about Mami and Mami and if we need to decide, Mami Vicky and Mami Andrea?” Tashi said. 

Smart kid.

Falling Out of Love

Tashi said she doesn’t like her flip-flops anymore.  I said, “What?  You begged me for those.”

She said, “It’s like a divorce.”

I said, “How do you mean?”

She said, “You know how divorces are.  Divorce out of love.”

Windy No More

One of my favorite parenting blogs called Wind in Your Vagina is shutting down today.  I totally get it.  Blogging is a pain in the ass.